Black

Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
We laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn

Ooh all I taught her was everything
Ooh I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything.
Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...

I take a walk outside
I'm sorrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear?
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head
I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning
How quick the sun can drop away

And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything.
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything

All the love gone bad turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I'll be...

I know someday you'll have a beatiful life
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why
Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine?

Too doo doo too, too doo doo


Music by Stone Gossard
Lyrics by Eddie Vedder

The 3 sides of every story

I love her...that's the truth, the only I actually know

She loves him...and who else, in every real story there's an him who's better than you

He loves me...and that could also sound weird but, if you think, it completes a perfect three sides story

I used to work on Saturday night and I couldn't help thinking about her that she was probably out with him, losing herself in his big dark eyes and struggling for his impenetrable distance; I couldn't help thinking about her while I was lace up another print. He was there, where I would have died to be, wasting another worthless night...

Feelings...like a warm breeze in the night sky, while the clouds cut the moon and with dead eyes I stare at motionless stars, captured in monochromatic paintings, regaining a bit of youth, try to save time previously lost.
I'd never had to go away that night, I'd never had to leave compassion behind. Now that I understand all of this I struggle deep within me...
...and I'd wish you still feel the same...

The night of the one

A melody echoing in the distance from an old tired speaker...just a distant memory and the smell of old summer comes close like it was yesterday...like they were never gone away...
She was there, dancing in front of me somewhere far beyond a dream; I can still recall the smell of the cutting grass, the sun up in the blue sky, the feeling that it would be forever...
Damn how is easy but at the same time hard to recall this, how I wish to be able to forget forever...but what will be left of me without this memories?
That was the last time I saw her, the emblem of our youth, I wonder where she could be now after all this time...Seasons have passed by in front of me since then but even now I'm always riding the same feelings of once, always find the right question to no answers, wishing it could have been forever...

To leave is a bit like to die

To leave sounds like to die.

To be gone means to live through the eye of a memory.

When you leave a place that has been like your home for a while, all you left behind is all the people there will remind about you. Memories are the elements by which a man is built of, what you leave about yourself to the others is what make you what you are, more than every possible truth everywhere...
Fragments of memories that slowly build a personality, that slowly build an history, knowing all of this pieces of reality is like knowing ourselves better, like we'd never been able to do in any other way.

But if no one is there, where a soul is supposed to burn?
No one there
No one there
No one has never been...

When the end calls...

Maybe is thinking through different prospectives that makes real whatever you're living and passing by...

The days are gone, sometimes even too fast, too similar one to another to keep a perfect memory of each one...but they are passed and gone...the memories sometimes make you laugh, sometimes they make you cry but isn't this what we all go through to find the other half of this true? And what if there's no true? Haven't you think about that? Never?
Sometimes is hard to say goodbye, sometimes you got that feeling to say "just wait one more minute, just one more" and the words just choke in your deep self...I'm still here by your side, everything is gonna be fine now but nothing is gonna last forever...I never said that and I just knew that you were not gonna stay...

You were crying while whispering those words, is that what we leave when we're gone? When we share a memory we become part of another memory yet to start, when we share a laugh is just like join our souls forever, melting them together, chasing themselves 'til the end of the times...
It's always the same float of emotions, hiding in empty walls while all the unsaid comes to the light and make us wish to be gone...

And even after everything I still wandering where you will be now, if you're still watching at the same moon of once and if you still bear the same sorrows and the same nightmares that had taken you away...if only you were still here...

...and I wish...again...and again...

Keep up the team

La notte del diavolo è la mia festa preferita. Ogni anno mi riprometto che deve essere particolare, ma, escludendo il biennio 2002-03, le ultime non sono state poi cosi speciali: 3 anni passata in cabina a lavorare, quella dell'anno scorso che non la ricordo e quella di quest'anno che, causa la deadline imminente, l'ho passata interamente alla Film Academy a tentare di creare un menu decente e funzionante per il mio dvd.
Mentre vedevo il sole spuntare dalle vetrate della editing suite, ho pensato a questo ultimo mese trascorso tra scuola (figo) e cabine di proiezione (un po' meno)...e ho capito il vero significato di quelle semplici 4 parole che stanno scritte davanti all'entrata della cabina del mio posto di lavoro...
Spronare gli altri a fare del loro meglio, convincerli che non esiste lavoro difficile o che non debba essere fatto, aiutarli a vincere la loro pigrizia per salvaguardare la tua...motivare la gente significa risparmiarti un sacco di lavoro, e per farlo basta sparare minchiate!! Come ad esempio dire al tuo collega che il general manager ti ha detto che è un ottimo dipendente e che stava pensando ad una promozione per lui. Oppure dire al tuo manager che il competente tecnico ha elogiato il suo ottimo lavoro di manutenzione delle macchine, mentre il suddetto tecnico, proprio poche ore prima, aveva maledetto il suo nome...
Risultati straordinari, gente che si propone di ramazzare i piccioni morti sul tetto, lavori completati in tempi record, morale alto, ambiente tranquillo, scazzi ridotti al minimo, applicazione quasi nulla...

Ma forse non è solo questo il segreto, forse c'è un altro lato di questa verità che avvolge il mondo capitalista destinato ad un rapido e inesorabile colasso...un mondo cosiddetto civilizzato, costruito sullo sfruttamento reciproco della forza lavoro, costruito su fondamenta designate da chissà quale forza universale, costruito sull'omologazione, sull'alienazione, sulla speranza che il domani riserverà ancora sorprese...

Ma chi ha scritto le regole?? Un grande diceva che i mezzi sono giusti in relazione ad un fine, ma quale fine è il fine?? Ma soprattutto: se questa magica parola fosse "individualità"???

Il sole poi alla fine è tramontato, il Diavolo ha lasciato il comando alle streghe, il mio progetto è finito e consegnato, non ne sono del tutto soddisfatto ma alla fine non mi posso nemmeno lamentare, un coglione un po' su d'età gira per le strade vestito da Joker e mi ricorda che in fondo poteva andare peggio...molto peggio...

Il mio ultimo mese da proiezionista per ora, cercherò di "godermelo", ma di questo ne riparleremo a tempo debito, meanwhile, Bad Halloween!

September Sun

Summer almost gone, the poetry inside the last bright days, everyone shorter than the one before, colors changing, the girls of Liverpool St. all dressed of the same suit, the romantic September spreads its beauty all over here...

The morning is running fast upon the 242, direction Shoreditch, I can finally breathe again...