Thursday, October 30, 2008

100facial Compilation

oxymorons emotional

I do not know if you feel more anger or resignation to read the news of clashes between students took place in Piazza Navona, in front of police buildings struck by lightning apathy. The resignation comes from noting that now we see the facts as extremely serious what happened yesterday, slipped on without reacting, watching the terrible gap that far for victims of earthquakes in scattered regions of the Middle East.
Yet, already in recent weeks, had denounced the prime minister's attitude, if not of interest, at least expected to participate, as to whether the peaceful demonstrations of opposition to the Gelmini decree were marred by violence between participants. I remember so Veltroni summon assistance for the definition of "troublemakers" that the premier had given to students demonstrators. Today, even doing so with a greater show of force that Veltroni did not have, being able to explain As the Italians might be dangerous words is impossible. Over the last fifteen years, Berlusconi has shown (fully convincing his opponents to borrow attitudes) as communication policy should be packaged as if speaking to a child of twelve years. The byproduct of this (historians will tell you if and how much it was wanted or not) is that today almost the entire world of communications is regressed to the point to talk about itself as a child of twelve years. Now "wise", "exalted", "rowdy", "troublemakers," "violent", "communists" and "fascists" are at last, become blurred and this synonym lexical confusion generated symmetrically inability and lack of will to analyze, contextualize, and ultimately, explain what is happening. Today no one is asked to account for the words he uses, so that policy has become increasingly popular habit of issuing statements, which saggiatone near real-time impact, are immediately accompanied by an official interpretation, authentic. Everything is so removed from any independent evaluation, and no one should ever respond to anything.
a few days ago are targeted advice that former President Cossiga gave to the press to his successor Maroni at the Interior Ministry. The resignation is to see how shabby is now the policy prescription of obscenities: the usual manipulation of public opinion, the usual subjects aware of infiltration or misused, the usual suppression of dissent with the approval of the silent majority and duped. So, back to yesterday, the usual pickup truck drove people who had come a little 'hands, to feel a bit' more important than anything they are and to do their homework, just as others had decided they should do.
things I've seen hundreds of times in Italy.
And the anger? The political struggle of the seventies was for the very idea of \u200b\u200bstate, our place in the world. We spent it with force (up to the excesses that generated monsters, as we all know) to change their social position, ask for a better world and a more just society. Is pursued, that is, objectives, if you do not want to say high or noble, however ambitious, who in every age men of every belief they have chosen to devote his life.
Well, anger is to see that today our political passion will be resolved in a virtually exclusive nell'azzuffarci for the faction to which we have chosen to belong to both successful and to consolidate power. Conversely little or no interest today the contents of the policy, that is what we should consider the ultimate goal of our own political participation.
Italy, today, is an unrepentant playboy, who finally received the fateful call to rise up for a drink, smiles, cheers, climb into the car and goes home to watch TV.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The Diving Bell And The Butterfly

Mission impossible

Sleepy and normal mood, I drove to the office. Usual traffic, the usual tree, usually a dog limping gait, at least until the opening of the cages of that great dog track, which is the GRA. Habit is a comforting companion and we cling to it, especially at the beginning of the day, when there is to win the thought of all the commitments that lie ahead. The light was a
bell'arancione vivid, since the six previous afternoon. In these cases, however, I have been full knowledge of kilometers of autonomy that correspond to the small, infinitesimal space between the bar indicator of petrol from absolute zero. In fact, after a few hundred meters, that's a big green sign indicating that about two thousand yards from where I will find a distributor who practice the affordable price of € 1.322 per liter.
Despite this, I almost did the same to remain standing. No, I had to push the car to get to the gas station. Simply have fallen into a kind of trance , from which it emerged only when the service area appeared tiny in my rear view mirror. I paid a fortune to find in a few minutes another distributor, supplying astronomy figure of € 1.402 per liter. Damn.
The fact that I was hearing music, as I almost always while driving. I remember the final geometric progression of the North, with the tenor sax, the alto saxophone, trumpet and then their ensemble to overlap on two themes as magical as those who only knows how to bring out the old Asti. Even now that I think about it, I get the picture that I always condenses in mind when I listen to that piece: a large meadow on the high, thin air, pungent colors too much for too close to the sky and virgin scents. Finished the song after a few seconds of breath post-coital, I woke up and laughed, of true happiness.
Everything happens to me often when I listen to music. I think it is a mystery, a magic, a gift. The music brings me shards of truth. What me and I can not understand the world through the efforts of my poor dull intelligence, I make it clear to the music. It uses words such as our feelings untold, fill in the emotions directly into machine language.
Thus, responding to an email after all innocent, an honest title "A tough mission ..." , whereby a very nice colleague of mine asked me to give him the titles of the twelve songs in my opinion more beautiful, revealed herself a really hard effort. I took, of course, work at home. I could not run the risk of overlooking something important, for lack of memory sometimes blurred. Reduce the communicative power of music in twelve examples is in itself an extreme exercise, vaulting a bold, reckless stunt and I really do not I could try, at least without the safety net of my CDs in alphabetical order. It was a process of unprecedented violence, the limits of stupidity, having to choose between Fossati and Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon and between Giovanna Marini. But that was the trial and what I did, albeit not completely. I could not drop below 14 tracks. It would be was too painful to select more.
Even more I weighed well not be able to separate all the components that inevitably come into play when making assessments such as these. How much of my choices has depended on what I thought would like my colleague? But how much depended on my mood that particular day? I consider it a new disc or an unknown artist as a gift to be discarded. How much did you weigh in my choices that always gives me pleasure to give gifts? Impossible to say. The fact is that every time you look at a painting, repainting it again. I learned long ago that what is natural and therefore inevitable. So, I accept it, but it makes me angry.
Responding to my colleague, I took my list with the date, place and time of my choices, although aware that this will not be sufficient to save my soul.

Hothouse Flowers - Be Good
Dave Matthews Band - Stay (Wasting Time)
Living Colour - Love rears ugly head
ITS Led Zeppelin - In My Time of Dying
Queen + David Bowie - Under pressure
Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer
Bob Dylan - Jokerman
CSI - Traveling
Vasco Rossi - wonderful ....
Lucio Dalla - Paolo Conte Train
- North
Gianmaria Testa - To accompany
Giorgio Gaber - If I were God
Roger Whittaker - Speak with the liquid