17 songs - My autobiography (6)

2009

One day in late January of 2009, as I returned home after taking Simona to the train station, I crossed Beppe’s car: and he waved what seemed to me a shy greeting, and I quickly returned it.
Relations with the mythical Gran Madre group had also concluded more or less at the end of 2007: one of them (one of the famous boor) told me he wanted to prepare for the Oktoberfest. I replied that I liked the idea and... he was gone. Soon after, I found out that he’d gone to Monaco with his famous old lover (and Southerner, well eh!) and so...
I wrote, I think, two short lines on my blog that, as we said, everybody only read in order to fulfil their hatred (as Silvio would say!) and no one ever commented in a meaningful way. Then I had also written two other lines about the news that my ex, the fool one, was now dating Beppe: and since it was unlikely that Beppe could be seen as a charming man (!) but he had inherited a small house in Liguria... and Roberta always dreamed this kind of house... well, you only needed to sum two and two...
I imagine that the famous friends had resented: you know, truth always hurts. It is much better to state, a few months before the wedding, "that in life there will be those who you really like and would like to marry... but then you have to settle for someone else" – as she said little Barbara.
Oh well, again.

Simona, yep. At the third occurrence of that name, something had finally happened!
The New Year’s was sympathetic: Rome, apart from the Romans, is definitely a beautiful city (!), especially during the holidays. Our two days were nice, although for me it was a bit of a grind but... you know, I can make sacrifices, no problem in regard to this.
A dinner, When Harry met Sally on television, sleeping together, a restaurant with cacio and pepe... the train station and then the other station. This must be love from Phil Collins in a loop in the background while we cuddle in bed. The promise to meet again soon, which would then be mid-month in Genoa at her cousins’ (Cristina, again. Never a thing by chance...)

And in fact, with Cristina from Pinerolo we continued to keep in touch: we told each other about New Year's, then we met again - she had gotten a reddish Persian kitten that was quite lovable! And then she did those considerations about the cat scratching her legs and so she couldn’t wear a dress and... I was suffering, as always. But we kept on having a good relationship.
And later that month there was an occasion of a concert from Sneakers, the excellent Depeche Mode cover band that we had now been following for some years: Cristina also liked them and so we decided to go and watch them. And, since it was in a pub near my house and she practically lived on the mountains and there was risk of snow... I invited her to sleep with me.
And she accepted.
It was a friendly thing, definitely: so much that I prepared myself to go to sleep on a couch leaving her the bed or rather the double mattress. I was engaged and... I planned on meeting again Simona the following week. Or maybe the one after. Or…
As always since 1995, Simona too had changed her attitude rather quickly: from you’re so sweet and I want to meet you in the middle of December we were now to hear her stories with her ex (or maybe more than one... one had called her on January 1st and she had apologized for having spent an hour with him as I turned around Cristoforo Colombo street...)
And now it wasn’t clear when we were going to have our next chance to meet. But Genoa was cute, definitely... except when we went in the shops and I probably looked at those clothes and those things... with a way-too-special eye. As I would’ve said a few years later, obviously something was coming out of me - even though I never said a thing.
So we went to the concert and then to sleep at myself. Cristina too was shocked by the voice of the computer, but still everything went normal (!!)
And then the next day we were going to reach Massimiliano - the horny friend - in his new home in Cuneo. And after that weekend...
...they started two weeks... how to define them? Sweet review of our relationship. I started talking about how she left her perfume on the pillow. And then she replied. And me, again. And the tone changed... as I tried to figure out what Simona was going to do: bearing in mind that, in short, Roma-Torino was a certain distance.

There was a lunch in Val d'Aosta, with my friends from Canavese, and then a ride to Aosta. Me making jokes about the evening dresses on display in a shop window, along with that one friend from Franco that had always looked a bit of a faggot...
Simona, Cristina. One was going, the other was there.
We had a pizza, in mid-January. Then an aperitif, on February 6th. The supermarket. Spotlight by Jennifer Hudson and Love love love by James Blunt. A movie at her home, then another one. Then the video from Love is noise that I had saved on my computer.
"It's late now, do you feel like sleeping here?" she asks me at about four o'clock. I tell her it's okay - even if I have no pajamas with me (!). We lie on the bed, we talk. Then I kiss her, caress her, rub on her. I look at her and, mindful of all the philosophical talk we've done, I say "listen, since in theory I’m still dating Simona... but (as you know) I'm going to leave her, do you think we can wait until tomorrow before... we go further?"
So I stop. We fall asleep. We wake up. Over my head La primavera in anticipo from Laura Pausini. We kiss and we say goodbye, crossing her mom who lives nearby. A beautiful sun in the air.
And so the next day, at lunch with two other friends. I send her a few texts, she responds quickly.

On Monday, world collapses. And not just because Paolo takes me to his umpteenth (and luckily last) shit customer: Cristina doesn’t want to meet me anymore.
Unfortunately there is facebook, so I start writing every kind of things. The same things that in practice I had been writing since 1995, but with a much wider audience.
I don’t understand what happened. That is, I understand that it must be related to the sex thing: I was sincere, the next day I told Simona that we were definitively going to close our parentheses, and she too began to shout something meaningless against me (so I dedicated her a very personal cover of Disco Labyrinto from Subsonica along with Bluvertigo).

I cry. I am back at crying desperately. That can’t be, right? From Simona’s sweetness to her being so far after just one month. And all the talk with Cristina... all the beautiful words... disappeared in one night.
I'm wrong. Wrong, as they sing Depeche Mode: I was born with the wrong sign / In the wrong house / With the wrong ascendancy / I took the wrong road / That led to the wrong tendencies / I was in the wrong place at the wrong time / For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme and There's something wrong with me chemically / Something wrong with me inherently / The wrong mix in the wrong genes.
Perfect, all dedicated to me. And it was so obvious, from day to day. Bursting into tears in front of Massimiliano after a pizza with his new girlfriend, and even hear him say no but that one wasn’t good for you. I thought it too, at the beginning, but then we talked for eight months and...
I cried for five months, especially when they said that she had felt rejected and then as a woman she had suffered this affront in an absolute manner. And so it was my fault: or rather, my dick’s fault, as always.
By the mere fact that it existed, yes.
Years later I then realized that, however, it was perhaps more a matter of a hypocrisy, feigned words, role play... the usual things that deep down I had already suffered many times: that is, Cristina wasn’t really thinking what she said when we were talking of Freudiana from Alan Parsons ("do you wanna be somebody / do you wanna change the world?"), or when it came to keeping a promise, not to betray, not being driven just by sex...

In that time, however, I felt like having mentioned my desire to dress like a woman at carnival, at the pizza from two weeks before had... communicated something wrong: even though at that time we had been joking about it - and she had talked about some of her appearances dressed as a cowboy...
She called me, and told me that my words on facebook had hurt her: I replied, I think, that I had been crying for two days. She didn’t propose to meet and neither me.
I concentrated on the carnival, indeed: and on that twenty-one of February, ten years and one exact day after that first time in 1999, I went to Ivrea with Max and then other friends. And I was pretty, and scared, and I was fine as I put on my lipstick in the car. They took a beautiful picture of me and when I published it Simona banned me - and it seemed right. I laughed - at least! If only I thought that the year before I had been in Ivrea wearing tights and a bra under my sweater...


And I spent my birthday crying, desperately answering to Franco on the phone and telling him it wasn’t right. And he nodded, yes. On March 13 we were scheduled to meet with Cristina, but as she changed her mind at the last second (a thing, of course, she would’ve never done before) I told her what I thought about these behaviors - and she had the courage to point back at me with if people don’t do as you wish then you’re not happy? after I had left her the choice. The usual script, the usual fuck and amen.
Break even from the Scripts and You've got the love from Florence and the machine, and even Lily Allen with Not fair (dedicated to sex, again) and then Fuck you... were the soundtrack of those months. Empty, sad as ever... because it was yet another-the umpteenth time.
I screamed that I didn’t want to return to build, to dream, to think that... and then be disappointed. I was screaming her name and begged her to tell me it was just a joke, that when she was writing emails "hello Sweet" she wasn’t teasing me.
No, it wasn’t a joke, of course.

In late January, however, they had suspended the 105 Zoo for that episode full of jokes about animals. Even that thing didn’t help, and it lasted one month.

Daniel from Bat for lashes was that spring soundtrack: sad, with such beautiful sounds, the dream of a home, the search for my flame.
I used to go into the big office belonging to those scum... wearing a satin camisole and tights under jeans: it was obvious that I had to become a woman... after this latest experience. As always, even in this case my lousy feeling about myself reverberated in the work (although these in particular were already famous for providing a bad service as telephone and internet providers... and at the bottom also as oxygen consumers).
Be the one from The ting tings and Bodies by Robbie Williams: not bad but... meaningless. Sweet disposition from Temper Trap, who tried to give a little rhythm... but with poor results. And Train's Hey soul sister, but I would have noticed it only years later.

Of the reunion with schoolmates in February 2009 I just remember a bad atmosphere, a slew of persons gone-awry (except for a couple) and the vamp from schoolyears - Roberta - who comments on my life with your stories are worse than mine. Indeed.
The little holiday in Trentino with that couple from Riccardo’s circle... nice places, the German language and me in a nightgown, trying not to get caught. And Paolo my partner who tells me that we had to work and that I could‘ve skipped that holiday: considering that our client was not paying the bills and that they had been years since my last holiday... I considered this statement very unhappy. And I enforced my decision to leave him - to quote one of his motto.

Ulysses from Franz Ferdinand, Figlio di un re from Cremonini. Beautiful. If only I had been able to smile. Every now and then from the Noisettes, so feminine, and which I was trying to assimilate.
My mom was getting worse and was losing weight in those months. I had just bought her the decoder for digital terrestrial television, which would become mandatory soon... but she didn’t have time to learn how to use it.

After watching the new Star Trek movie, the reboot (like they say), I set off again for Greece. Pack a dress too and a pair of ballerinas, and the nightgown and earrings. Rhodes, again, always pretty. Lyndos. And finding back the bed and breakfast whose owner looked like Dave Gahan grown old and where I had been two years earlier. The trip to Bodrum and the belly dancing costume - at last!
We are the people, from Empire of the sun, stands as soundtrack of those days: the bells flowers, purple... the sun, the heat. Me dead inside, or rather a dead woman. A bike ride, a climb that crushes me... I come home in the evening and I can’t feel my legs and I turn on the television and they’re broadcasting the film about Marco Pantani! Coincidences, right (!!!)
And some evenings spent outside a restaurant, attached to their WiFi with my new phone, and facebook. New experiences, which I could’ve done without. Buy me something feminine, timidly.
And Magnificent from U2, with that sound that emerged during the chorus and that gave me an idea of demons... who were watching my life and yelling at me. Of voices which were looking at me and, like in a story by Buzzati, shouting menacingly...

I returned from Greece. I went to vote, and then there was Luca’s wedding, the marathon runner. To which I went in suits and with fishnet tights under my trousers...
I cried, I cried in seeing old friends all settled with children... I had had enough. But the fact that Luke had asked me helping him making the soundtrack of his big day had given me pleasure and, apart from his exaggerated love for U2, we put together a nice compilation.

So after that day, I tried to recover. Changing sex, of course, made no sense (and again). Long hair bothered me at all and they were not as beautiful as in my dreams - so I cut them after eight months or what they were.
And we went on with that job and with others, while simultaneously I freed myself even from the odious vermin of that hospital where, as usual, I had worked for seventeen years. I devoted them a cover of Safari by Jovanotti (together with Giuliano Sangiorgi from Negramaro) entitled Statali 
Candy by Paolo Nutini and Nessuno by Neffa still belong to that sad spring: I giganti, then, with Rio along with Fiorella Mannoia brought a little light and slowly everything was changing. Also Uprising from the Muse was a beautiful song.
And then there was Rock and roll train from AC/DC (shortly after followed by Money mate): how long had it been since I hated them in Marco’s workshop! And then the Veronicas with Untouched.

Michael Jackson died unexpectedly in that month of June: it happened on the day when that group of fans from A-ha I had known in January organized a meeting with many friends from all over Italy, and... it was nice - as it would have then been nice the new song Butterfly butterfly (technically in 2010), the farewell to stages (which then would not have been such but oh well!).
I bought the CD from Bad, driven by the emotional wave, but you can’t say it wasn’t worth its money (!)

I realize that there were very many beautiful songs that year! When I got back to... live, or at least to try to, I found myself surrounded by... lots of music!
There was the dance music, from Release me by Agnes that I loved to I gotta feeling by Black Eyed Peas which on the other hand annoyed me more or less immediately. And When love takes over from David Guetta that I devoted to Massimiliano and his girlfriend Cristina, whom he had conquered in those winter months. And then Break your heart from Tayo Cruz and This moment by Nic Chagall.
And then Lemonade and especially Too much TV by Planet Funk, beautiful and suited for so many people... (!) And then Speak English from the always great Fabri Fibra. And Paranoid from the Jonas Brothers and then She wolf by Shakira, which I did like a bit, and then For what it's worth by Placebo, from that album that would have given us many wonderful tracks, Battle for the sun. And then Use somebody and Sex on fire by Kings of Leon, who I loved from the start. And again Automatic from Tokyo Hotel, and also Ayo Technology covered by Milow (from the original track by 50 cent one year before).

I went to Tuscany and Rome, at my blogger friend’s place for a few days: I met both Valentina ready for her wedding, and Alberto and his girlfriend - Simona, for a change! And they made me meet their friend just glimpsed on facebook, Erika. On the way back, it was waiting for me the latest outburst of the lurid and arrogant customer and... it was fun: people who one day shake your hand and make you compliments for the excellent work, having tested everything; and, two days later, threaten you with legal action assaulting you over the phone because nothing works...
How many are there, of such human beings. How much wasted time, talking to them...
On the other hand, if we think about the bad story about Papi and Noemi, in those months... we understand many things. Unless you’re idiots (!)

Of course that was the summer of Empire state of mind from Jay Z and Alicja Keys, such a great song! One day I’ll go to New York, yep...
And then 21st century breakdown by Green Day which would then be followed by the ballad 21 guns, remarkable.

Summer goes by and I had somehow purchased a super-discounted ticket Torino-Cagliari at a price of circa 12 euro return! It had happened after meeting a chick on facebook, my namesake and... since I always wanted to give a second chance to the island, after the customer-bitch... I had told myself it was a good idea.
Meanwhile my mom is getting worse: the weight loss continues... at some point she enters an hospital and, shortly after, they tell me that there's nothing left to do...
On the one hand I can - as I always have - tell with pride that until two weeks before she persisted to go to the market with her legs, and honor to her! Or maybe it was because a man shouldn’t help at home... Oh well...
Too bad, she was just missing less than a month to become eighty. The fact that Mike Bongiorno died a few days before and Patrick Swayze a few days after her is... well, at least vaguely comforting.
And... no, that Saturday is obviously a particular day. Letting some tears out as I see her close her eyes forever... and knowing that we had never had a great relationship for... certainly very extensive reasons... the Appliance, yeah. She never shared anything about what I was doing (and I don’t know if it was because she had once said that she wanted a daughter) and... so basically she had been out of my life for a long time. She appreciated Daniela, centuries before; and she had been the target of the veiled insults from Roberta, jealous of everything. And in the middle... bad stuff, like when she softly said that Nadia was a bit ugly (!)
No grandchildren, then. And I always wondered if she had picked up something from the years of Irene. And of the hidden me weeping and wailing... year after year...
Those hugs (not more than a few in fact) in the famous horrible house that she couldn’t bring herself to leave... they were the most touching things of those weeks. The last hugs, and maybe the only, or almost, in a lifetime: we could have had it all, she sang Adele a little later - and it was a phrase my mom often repeated when I was a child, referring to our family... to my smart understanding, my dad’s ability and no doubt to herself (health, for example, that she passed onto me).
But that something has always been missing. As for me, indeed.

It depends, if you prefer to look at the 90% that was there or the 10% which has been lacking, and what weight you wish to give.

So she died, and that afternoon I had in my head Paparazzi by Lady Gaga: sad and annoying but it happens... (!) not the song, sad, I mean: that one was simply useless (!!)
Organizing a funeral, set the haunted house in a position to do no harm - as I had called it in the past because of some events - and then think about how to get rid of it. And, in the meantime, use the ticket to Cagliari which now seemed very appropriate: and the little holiday wasn’t bad though... the facebook people, as you began to realize, had grossa crisi (big confusion or pain, ndt) - to quote a Great Guy 
Great hospitality, beautiful places, cleanliness order and good food. I partially changed my mind and reclassified some behavior of the natives that I had the pleasure to see in Torino: indeed, as my friend confirmed, in Goni were the beasts (!!). And then the tour ended, having also seen a double rainbow that I imagined to be a message from my mom. Oh, and even yet another self-generating writing on the wall: Daria I love you!

I am back doing new things in my little house: I had learned to build reasonably well some wooden furniture and so, in those months, I complete my kitchen. I happen to listen Soul cake by Sting and Long gone by Chris Cornell, and later Because of you from Skunk Anansie. Paolo, my ex-partner and ex-friend... I see him for the last time a few days after my mother died: he comes to my house because he’s waiting for some money from one of my neighbors and I, too good as ever, even waste a phone call to urge the guy because Paolo is there waiting.
Waste of breath, pearls to swine - as always. In fact, the thing had settled body and soul by his last shitty customer’s side together with some Southerner acolyte (!) and so all together they had some of my invoices to pay off the work done... and the thing would drag on for years. As I hope the tumor to his daughters.
Kidding.
Ah, no, no kidding (!!!)

However, on that occasion Paolo swore perhaps for the only time that I remember (usually he used the quite hypocrite porcozio suitable for rabbits with no balls) when he learned about my mother. Curious, let’s say.

And then you go on with facebook: it seems to be somehow a place for exchanging point of views, meeting people... and exchange feelings/emotions by sharing songs: I remember well a long talk inspired by Lady Gaga’s Bad romance (her career peak, as I said, while someone was mocking the big eyes of the girls in the videoclip...)
And then Just breathe by Pearl Jam, that for once I listened at the right time! And All the right moves by One Republic and the legendary Il libro in una mano, la bomba nell’altra by Negrita... so true, and maybe so censored - as many said. And Be lonely from Mario Biondi, always dedicated to myself, and Three words by Cheryl Cole with Will.I.Am, so sweet.
Sto pensando a te from Vasco Rossi pleased me (strangely) and stuck with me because, again on the usual site, I met a physics graduate chick in Rome who was born on the same day of Annalisa (I never forget details!) and with which it developed a little feeling... one day I told her to give me some extra teaching because I wanted to take up the experiments on cold fusion - and I struggled to explain her that I was not joking!

We also went on vacation in Scotland, with Riccardo, his girlfriend and two others... and it was the end. Seeing people take the worst of themselves - both against the airline, for which reason we were going to stay there and lose our flight, and the people we met during the trip... for me it was enough. I had had enough of certain things: the incarognite (men and women) people who hurt themselves and then get angry with everyone else. Of the arrogant, stupid females, pathetic males.
So, on return, we met again once and then goodbye. Later, Nicola would come to tell me that Riccardo didn’t understand the sense of throwing darts from my blog against everyone, like an old sorcerer.
Incidentally, it was just so! And, although I doubt that either of them ever understood, it wasn’t the arrows of hate or envy or sclera but simply morons of Italian mafia, if Ryanair says not to bring more than 30 pounds why must you put 35, do the usual figure of shit and then get angry as well?
Sorry again, when it’s needed it’s needed (!!!!)
I would love to see their faces now, his, the soft calabresina, the believer lawyer and especially that fuckin woman friend of Riccardo who said "I often saw you depressed".
The next time I will be born in your body and so you’ll see that I’ll be a much better person than you...

For some reason, at that time I had as my phone’s ring tone Doctorin the Tardis by KLF, a track from many years before based on a sample from the Doctor Who show theme song: and I remember when it was ringing in Scotland...

Then the facebooked stuff continued, and so in those weeks I got clunged to Tania, the horrible stalker. But in those early days I fondly remember her asking me "why do you like those beautiful women's clothes?" while commenting on the videoclip Meet me half way by Black Eyed Peas...
Because obviously I was the only sincere person, of that filthy site. You know (!) and so sometimes I also wrote some of those comments as well...
And soon after there was the episode of Tartaglia and the cathedral model at the face of berlu! Me and a few others filled laughter and... scums that ban you (and so they begin the years of battles with internet pathetic fools) because you’re enjoying a crime chronicle.
No, dear, I am happy because I am still hoping that the cancer who has been wrapping around Italy for almost twenty years can be eradicated: in hindsight, it was and it is obvious that you deserve/deserved it all.

In short, on New Year’s Eve I don’t have much to do except enjoying this beautiful red Persian cat - Garfield clone - that I have been given... and so I decide to go to Beaulard for the 25th year. And, during the drive, among the rest I listen to the curious Soldier of love from a renewed Sade.

Daniel, Bat for lashes

Magnificent, U2

Meet me half way, Black Eyed Peas

2010

I often dreamed of my mother, in those weeks, during those months. Then it passed and now... I mean, in all these years, the dream only pops up occasionally. I used to dream her young and it was curious...
Oh, I forgot: in late 2009 had also died Eric Woolfson, Alan Parson’s shoulder: a sin.

I have no clear memories of people and events, this year, if not just a couple: but a lot of beautiful music, which I listened to by lying on the lawn around my house, in the sun and with the nearby radio! Especially when I later completed the log cabin I had built with great care... in that spring. Oh, except learning that Valentina, my Tuscan friend recently married... she was splitting up because she had discovered her husband’s treachery: I was completely dashed and wrote her a message full of wonder.... I couldn’t believe, not her... so nice and tender...
I continued to work in the area of the telephone pigs (!) because another from their clique had been looking for me several times because he liked me (I wonder in what sense) and... later we would’ve made a lot of laughter (!!)
As I said, I was also free, after the correct seventeen years, even from the hospital full of disgusting public workers... I felt free. Being paid for caring about clueless/parasites was a bit like stealing... (!!)
Moreover, between 2009 and 2010 I really earned lots of money, and I remember my tax statements with crazy figures and me going around saying, proud, that I was happy to pay all those taxes.
Pearls to the swines, as usual-usual!

So, let's start talking about some historical gifts by the 105 Zoo: C’ho le pulci from Gino lo spazzino (based on a sample of the good Fabio who curses on the phone while trying to organize an evening) and then Un piccione sul lampione and Esse lunghissima from Depesce now back, really well designed like the previous Carta vetro.
Festa-festa from the Crookers with Fabri Fibra reminds me of a day skiing in Montgenevre with Franco and his newly purchased truck, and on that occasion we also listened to Meno male from Simone Cristicchi fresh out of Sanremo Festival, mocking Sarkozy and his wife in such a subtle way...
And in this period we also listen to We are golden from Mika, nice. And, thanks to Franco and his brother's advice, working in the field, I go on with the houseworks and at some point I begin, in fact, the wooden garden house... after having laid the ground, put down four small plinths... chosen wood... thanks to all of the tips from the old Calabrian man – when he was honest (!)

More or less by April or May, work is complete: and it’s fantastic! Under the blue sky... with my two new kittens (the Persian one day decided to go away... and I was sorry, but he apparently loved his freedom)... and with Virgin Radio which I start to listen regularly!
And so, Ashtray Heart and Bright lights from Placebo, and even The never ending why from that wonderful album we already tasted one year before. And Skinny little bitch from Hole, and... but I realize that I am confusing myself, Rollin' in the deep by Adele: it would not be out before year-end but that song and the entire album were so important to me that they... endorse a bit all of those months. And I want to remember that once I caught a resemblance with Edge of seventeen by Stevie Nicks (1982), a song that I came to know - this for sure! - in those months by Virgin Radio.
And then, again, Sole nero by Litfiba who reconciliated after a decade! Although I was never an exaggerated fan of them, I recognized many of their pearls and... I had been sorry that they got separated: to say, having seen a certain Elettromacumba passing, in those years, had made me a little scare... (!)
Better together, yes: and in summer we would then go out to watch a concert in Collegno and the music and the jokes on the political class would be perfect... as always!

Challenging another stereotype (kidding, almost...) in that spring I decided to go for a ride to Puglia: I met a chick... rather vamp, on the usual site, and then I had some other contact: so I flew, landed, I rented a car, I started to do some kilometers and it was... cute. Apart from Bitonto (oh well, Bitonto!!) the places where I slept were all perfect and the roads and towns (including Bari...) definitely in good conditions: now that I no longer live in the shitcountry (sorry for the spoiler) I realize that going there only on vacation makes everything more pleasant - than having to live in close contact daily, or worse work together.
With the terroni, I say, meant as thieves and gangsters, not like Southerners, let’s be clear (!!)
It is the same reasoning that foreign tourists do when they go to Italy, yep, exactly.

So, I enjoyed listening to my CD from Leone di Lernia, purchased one year before, in his own country; and then Alors on dance by Stromae, remarkable and original, and Rock that body from Black Eyed Peas and even L’amore si odia from Noemi with Fiorella Mannoia, or Belle of the Boulevard by Dashboard Confessional (which I devoted, no puns intended, to the girl with whom we went around one day in Matera). And then, in those months, the curious Buio e luce from La fame di Camilla.

Spring passed. The Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajokull erupted, causing problems in the skies for over two weeks and the stock exchanges, which tentatively were recovering since 2008, suffered a failure: because Greece entered its crisis...
I found the fat Milan girl nearby because she and her friend wanted to see a concert from Yavanna - which I obviously didn’t know - in Torino: so I invited her to sleep at my place one day in order to be able to later go to the concert and... when I saw her, I experienced nausea. Because she was worse than in the picture, that is she was really horrible, as well as her obscene mannerism (which, on the usual site, you weren’t allowed to see). And probably also I wondered why… they all came to me, but I think I avoided answering me or feeling bad: it was a year in which I had plenty to do and didn’t have time for... this crap.
So soon later I tried to run from her, but she just started to stalk me... I endured this for a while, then I wrote two nice lines (in the end, nothing so serious, just a bare minimum considering her continuing persecution; oh well, apart from cutting up the ridiculous plush she had given me!) and, for a change, everyone blamed me. Everyone is indeed an understatement, I would then have said years later: all the stoned unable to distinguish right from wrong, or to say something sincere even by chance (!!)

Mondo, from Cesare Cremonini in duet with Jovanotti, appreciable. Per tutta la vita, again from Noemi, beautiful words. And the newfound Irene Grandi with two pearls: La cometa di Halley but especially Alle porte del sogno, which reminds me of a Tuscan Cinzia appeared again via facebook and with which we also arranged a meeting with more friends from all over Italy in Bologna and it was, for a change, a sad thing: the Italian ugly germs and/or badly aged Italian were all already there...
La verità è una scelta from Luciano Ligabue was in radio, rather apt in that period.

At that time then we happened to listen to, and even go and watch live, a group, or better a duo named Babylonia: and it was a great find! They were a perfect clone of Depeche Mode... but not in the sense that they copied them, rather because they were very similar to them while remaining originals. Well, apart from Ethereal connection that, from the first time at the concert, I felt very inspired by Personal Jesus 
And so I liked especially By my side because it made me feel the strength and optimism of those months ("life is by my side"), and then came the fabulous Myself into myself, well played, well sung and well-written: I made my own videoclips while singing it... I loved it! And I still love it... I'm sick to live in the shadows / now it's time to shine on / and now that i've found myself / oh, i feel ready / to start again / I'll resist the pain / I will break my chains / I'll spread my wings / I'll lift my eyes / up to the sky / and I’ll turn myself into myself.

Shadowland and She fell in love with silence (she.. me ?!) by Lostboy i.e. Jim Kerr in his solo project I quite liked, and the Simple Minds concert we went and see that summer wasn’t bad, apart from the fact that... Jim was a bit aged, overweight and very weak on voice (!)
But it was nice, and their songs were not to be discussed.

And then Inneres auge from Franco Battiato, who amiably mocked the president in odor of syphilis that is Silvio (!) and, again and again, there were so many (too many) people who railed against the song - and not against the pimp!
Sorry, I said song again (!!) And let’s mention Escort 25 from Immanuel Casto, really great and so close to reality (!!!)
Resistance from Muse, worthy continuation after Uprising; and then Stylo by Gorillaz, always original and great, and then the nice Rocket by Goldfrapp. And Stereo love from Edward Maya and Vika Jigulina that... oh well, it could be appreciated; as well as One more lie by Craig David, special and different.

That summer died Dio, the singer (!!!) and so I found myself listening to some of his songs... something I had actually never done: and Rainbow in the dark seemed pretty good.
There was also another death that touched me a lot that summer: no, not the other brother from my mom... I’m talking about the daughter of Niccolò Fabi. It was a shock... I mean, not that I followed his private life, but when I read the news... I couldn’t believe it. That the one from Blasphemous rumours, always he, had struck again one of the few good people on the planet. And so I found myself feeling his pain... I imagined him desperate, with his style that could hardly endure something so disruptive, such a sharp pain...
In fact, he would no longer be him, this I would’ve discovered the following year at a concert and in general in the songs that followed: but we'll discuss this in the chapters to come...
That summer I wrote a small dedication to his child, on one of the walls in my wooden house. It was an unusual thing for me, and someone smiled but, in fact, even Niccolò was something unusual... and he really didn’t deserve it.
So much for the Milioni di giorni, yep.

Tik Tok by Kesha, and my considerations on the umpteenth emerging young (!) and then Dancing on my own from Robyn and Radioactive by Kings of leon; Waka waka sung again by Shakira at the Soccer World Cup and me building a fantasy over that ballet (...) Nothing on you by Bobby Ray with Bruno Mars and even Beautiful monster by Ne-Yo.
And of course the beautiful Even though from Morcheeba. And I want you by Jack Jaselli & The Great Vibes, and then the increasingly great Skunk Anansie with My ugly boy. And then a series of songs from the past that I discovered thanks precisely to Virgin Radio: Weak again from the Skunk, Wonderful life by Hurts, Rockin' in the free world by Neil Young (and that comment I saw the Arabs burn our flag and I thought we aren’t like you, we are the free world) and Love is the drug by Roxy Music and finally The pretender by Foo Fighters.

We kept in touch with that group of fans of A-ha met one year before, and so I listened through them to Butterfly butterfly, in theory their last production before the break. And then some other stuff that suggested me a friend met in that group, including the impressive Timekiller from Project Pitchfork, from 2001.

I spent the summer in my garden just doing things: my mother’s haunted house, I was then able to sell it (although that story deserves a little book on its own, and maybe one day...!) and while the cloud of human plagues otherwise known as mindless commentators on facebook was now perfectly on the run... I even had a chance to meet, thanks to shared friends, one guy that I was actually happy to know, that is the founder of the computer magazine I used to read decades before and who had taught me so much.
It was a pleasant evening, although he didn’t accept the role of a professor I had somehow given him: he was possibly fifteen years older than me... yes, I think. Years later, he would’ve been lost in the usual chaos of that dirty site, and in the usual hypocrisy of the Romans (!!!)
Oh, right, because in those months also the good friend Alberto from the blog was lost... between a joke about your brain which never pauses, eh? and be careful that she could make a legal complaint (referried to that umpteenth bitch from Puglia who just months before had first exposed her sexual positions in a not required chat and then she started, as usual, to insult without reasons)...
He would’ve just been one of the many who enjoyed insulting Berlusconi and the human race, but when you asked him to behave correctly or consistently or take a few standing position in any battle... he disappeared. Typical Italian, typical human.
Alberto for Alberto, I forgot to say that my friend the Jehovah's testimonial (I always loved this definition!) disappeared shortly after my mother's funeral: looks like he didn’t like my blasphemies against the famous hog customer from those months... at which, by the way, he was employed as well (!!!!)

Never mind, in both cases.
Meanwhile, Pietro Taricone dead. No, I mean to say, at least an appreciable news (!!!!!)
The filth of Ruby - who had taken over from Naomi - were on display in the papers but, no, Italians didn’t care. Even Dell'Utri trials was cared by basically nobody. Instead Sarah Scazzi, yes. Yeah, but those were from Puglia (!!)

A couple of trips to the usual festival in Canavese: a cute girl that somehow reminded me of the one from 1985 New Year’s Eve and in my car I miss you from Hana B (poignant) and Andalucia by Doves and Grace by Ed Kowalczyk, and especially the cover from Eleanor Rigby sung by Marla Singer... which made me think for several days about that all the lonely people, where do they all come from?
I didn’t know with certainty and at that time I wouldn’t have known what to answer... in regard to my case.

However, there was then Vip in trip by Fabri Fibra, brilliant as always: Controcultura as a whole CD would be sublime!
And even something danceable, although in lower amounts than previous years: like Close my eyes from Sander Van Doorn/Robbie Williams and Memory by Fragma, which appears to be from 2008 but I've located in this 2010 and, in particular, it has just a flavor of 1994. How not to mention the incredible Uè Ricchio fai Squich by Leone di Lernia!

Then again I made a little vacation, this time in Sicily and, after 22 years since 1988... it happened that I again had a contact with Cristina from 1985 from whom, in fact, I hadn’t heard since 1988. And she wrote... that other pathetic statement remove my name from your story that... really helped me understand what kind of stuff is there in the world. Though at the time I gave it not much weight, and I focused on the friends met in Catania and Palermo... then on that hotel manager who was born on the same day as me but looked fifteen years older 

And, back in Torino, fate gave me at least a little payback! No, not small, in fact: also given the manner in which it happened...
Even with the famous hysterical professor of maturity, I had had one last contact in 1988, when I sent her my first book (Ricordo di due sogni, the one with the dedication that the stupid shit my first love had not liked) and she... had bounced me a note in which she stated she had no time to read my writing. Not bad for someone who had spent years telling you that you were too much of a mathematician and that literature was as important...
So, one afternoon we are joking about old school anecdotes with a couple of classmates, I throw there a our Italian teacher would pull you by the ears, he dismisses my fix, then I withdraw everything and add you're right, she would pull them if she were still alive (the way I was exorcising unpleasant people and events in my life already for a while) and he responds to my knowledge she’s very well... and TA-DAH a few hours later he calls me one guy I know at work and who attended the same school as me, and he tells me that on the newspaper there’s the teacher’s obituary!!!
I run and send an SMS to the friend above, who calls immediately yelling at me and then he becomes sad and silent, when it turns out that, yes, that's her.
I laugh. I laugh, and I laugh. And when someone is talking about divine justice - or wants to try to fuck me - I quote this event... or even that of the famous Gualtiero, seven years earlier.
And then, come tell me that I‘m cynical (!)

Anyway, a few days later her funeral takes place, in that awful place that (again, don’t talk about coincidences!) was also the home of the chick from February from the year before, i.e. Luserna: I was about to go and attend, then I avoid it... but, by chance, I am in that area for work and so my car radio playing Je veux by Zaz brings me back to that morning with a joy... superfine (!!!)
For a further coincidence, our old school began to organize meetings, in those months, and so I took one of these dates to get me a ride and... I felt good: strong thanks to my memory, full of experiences, satisfied!

And... not much else, in that autumn, except more beautiful music: Dead american writers by Tired Pony, Love lost from Temper Trap, Heartbeat by Enrique Iglesias and Nicole Schlesinger (cute), Someone to love by Elisa, You can dance by Roxy Music back again and fit, A night like this from Caro Emerald (which I later discovered to be a gay icon), Loca by Shakira feat Dizzee Rascal was at least passable, although I remember with most affection the version Maccio Capatonda (!!)
Massimiliano’s marriage, that you can’t avoid remembering since it was due on 10.10.10 (as he, proudly, had announced): but as a ceremony, well... men’s clothes were heavier as ever over me. And then most of his friends were really pathetic: just as it was the bachelor party’s dinner a few weeks before.
And then Jamiroquai’s White knuckle ride, good as always, with that special feeling of things to be fulfilled and love to taste, again... And the super-fantastic speckpetevolissima  Tranne te from Fabri Fibra, that would make us laugh and dance a lot in the first few months of 2011.
Oh, right, my Polish friend came and visit me for a weekend and I asked her if she agreed to go out with me dressed: of course only in the evening - I was still too scared. But I seemed to be able to handle it pretty well and she agreed, and it was pleasant enough. In the sense that the lack of brilliance of that meeting was not due to my clothing, but rather to a shortage of shared views on many issues (which would be further increased in the future).
And that tooth so close to the wisdom tooth... that I had to take off due to overcrowding: it was the first time and... you know, it surprised me a bit (!)

I took a ticket to Lisbon, which somehow I had had in mind for several years... and it marked the beginning of a series of pleasant events.

Ah, should we say something about Wikileaks? I have no precise idea even now, and so... nothing.

Rolling in the deep, Adele

Myself into myself, Babylonia

Sole nero, Litfiba

 2011

I remember that I was expecting cold and wet weather, in Lisbon: and instead, as the plane landed, I found... cloudy but relatively mild. So I began to sweat, in that fashion jacket that I had bought, after many years, just because... I wanted to try. Try to be like everyone else: a process which in fact was obviously useless, because there was no reason to become stupid when you’re far beyond fashion and luxury 
And they were four nice days, because in my hostel room I immediately met Nathalie, the Irish/Australian girl who was half my age but stood quite surprised as I told her my age and she commented "but you are my parents’ age and though you listen to the same music that I like"
Oh, well (!)
And then, shortly after, "I don’t know of anyone who, whenever he tells something, specifies month and year"
...
!!
We went around together for a while... a cat probably muffled behind a gate, a few pubs, a few photos, a bit of sunshine, a beautiful (and safe) city, the winter sea. Then she leaved and for New Year's Eve I joined a dinner organized by another hostel, and it was nice. Specifically meeting some Italians and lovingly tease Berlusconi - and above all telling this thing on facebook and be replied "oh why, voting Berlusconi means being stupid?"
No, no. In any case, you’d have seen the gnocchis in a few months, dear Barbara... (!)
But back to the square! The fireworks and Fireworks from Katy Perry broadcast over the speakers and on giant screens: perfect, in the right place at the right time and "baby you're a firework, come on show'em what you're worth".
And just as I returned on the plane... I found myself sitting next to a very pretty girl, certainly young: I sketched a few words here and there; then I saw her putting on her make-up just before landing...
As always, it's not that I was particularly keen in taking chances upon girls, on the fly (in all senses). But... I went to retrieve my luggage and saw her alone and a little angry at the bus stop, requesting information on how to travel to the train station: in a burst of... momentum, I asked her what happened and she said that those who were to pick her up had blown her off, so she was considering going to the station, sleep there and then take the first train in the morning.
I jumped in, as I started imagining her repeatedly raped and impaled with syringes, in that pleasant place which was Milan train station (!!) so, after removing the idea that it was exactly her dream (she didn’t seem to be the type) I asked her where she lived.
"Parma"
"No problem, I can bring you there, it’s on the way..."
I don’t know how it came. Maybe I should have been more so, also in the past, or maybe not. That is, it is not that at that moment I thought of a story with her - and basically it was good because then I found out that she was much younger than she looked (!) but... well, nothing: the four hundred additional kilometers were still cool: we talked about music, about us, Lisbon... and listened to Doncamatic from Gorillaz which, though little known, I find sublime. And Ain’t talking about love by Van Halen, which I had (for a change) discovered since little time thanks to Virgin.
Uma gave me a bottle of port and we said goodbye.
I guess that having looked at those beautiful dresses in the windows of downtown Lisbon... trying to forget about it (again and again), had an impact. On the whole of 2011, that is.

But instead, at the moment, everything seemed to be all right: three days later, still on the usual horrendous site, yet another person came to me to congratulate about my thoughts. That is, in fact, let's be clear: it’s not that it didn’t happen often but, of course (!), it was usually more that italian’s way of acting for which you adore the screamer destroyer. That, however, wasn’t at all my intention because I was talking about ideals, ideas, sensible things... and generally didn’t receive even half a line of response (as we had told at the blog times); when, on the other hand, I expressed comments about customers, filthy ideals of friends and ex-friends... using colorful (!) metaphors then came the insults, or fake circus-like admiration.
Gabriella told me that she shared many of my ideas. Then, after a few days, I threw there a couple of curses on my former coworker (who was going on to let me receive his unpaid fines) and she told me she didn’t agree.
Of course, no one likes to terminate the bad people, but someone has to do it (!!!)
However, it all was forgotten: and we began to write regularly to talk about the Arab Spring and the event Se Non Ora Quando in favor of women (or in disfavour of a certain president who treated them as prostitutes). Moreover, she was from Palermo, and so many topics were available due to this...
Small note: in that month a certain Professor Focardi made an announcement about Cold Fusion... keep this in mind (!)

My body, from Young the Giant, wasn’t bad: curious and original. Then Grenade by Bruno Mars, perhaps his best (or least bad) and especially with a sensible text: I’d take a grenade for you, would sacrifice myself for you. And I also have I want the world to stop now, from Belle and Sebastian, in those months’ collections.
Then came the Sanremo Festival and Gabriella dedicated me Roberto Vecchioni’s Chiamami ancora amore: nice (the song, I mean) and always interesting him. But I appreciated that gesture on her part (!!) she was married with children, but...
I was actually more impressed by Io confesso from La Cruz in duet with Nina Zilli: and, again, it would be a foresight, "ma chiamerai il mio nome, lo so che lo farai / non c'è nessun altro mondo così vicino a te che è così uguale a me / E un'altra possibilità io la voglio"
It would have happened soon. Because I don’t believe in God, but I believe a lot in myself, except for those rare times when I get lost (!)
And, of course, having to choose (visually) between being him or her in that videoclip... I had no doubts. But, oh well...

I had received two more kittens, later in 2010, and these were truly battered: borrowed from a farm of a ruined friend of a friend (!) I had washed and settled them but… one had died one morning, for no reason. And, of course, I had felt very bad; while the other seemed to go fine, tiny but nice and healthy... except for an eye problem.
Oh, and still in January it had occurred the splitting of the 105 Zoo: an event that left me very bad, because it was a betrayal - at least this was the way we’d been sold the story and... I believed in Mazzoli. I hated those three people who not only had gone to the competition but they had gone by that bitter competition: it was a bit like in 1991 or the latest Paolo’s adventures... people who the day before were with me and the next day were together to horrible crap at my antipodes.
The jokes and all that was said in that program in those months were... fantastic! And, as it was right, perfect to exorcise that bad event – which only several years later would be settled back.

There was another high school reunion - two years after the one in 2009, and this time I was feeling a bit better... not that it was important, but let’s say the atmosphere was at least a little better. And of course we were already less than the time before, and it was also going to be the last (as it should). Later Flora invited me to her home, a new small apartment as... pathetic as the previous one: I didn’t say it, but I thought it... and between that and her speeches always between disillusioned and angry... I avoided catching any attempt in avances while we were chit-chatting over her bed on top of which she had painted a starry sky (!) But I remember fondly (so to say) that comment of hers you're too good in reply to my story about the events from February 2009...

Istrice, by Subsonica, acceptable. Born free by Kid Rock and then also Ready to go by Republica, all more or less between late 2010 and early 2011. And then Pyro by Kings of Leon, which I found immediately stupendous!
And, as mentioned, Tranne te by Fabri Fibra. And the carnival celebrations. And the coming of age, like more or less we would say in English (!)
It was probably time. For the mineself pent, I say.
I had mentioned to my famous old gay friend that... in some ways I was more like him than expected, but his reaction wasn’t so good, and this had surprised me. In hindsight, I was not at all like him (or, worse, the other faggots) so maybe he was right. Anyway, I asked him if I could visit him wearing a skirt one evening, and he said yes, and... it was nice. Enough, in short: now I was going out relatively often at evening, but always alone and in the dark...
Then there was the first carnival: those famous old friends between the badly aged and the never grown up were still organizing costume parties... they invited me and I went there in heels and dress. And it was a hit! "My friend has mistaken you for a real girl" and so on, including the ballerinas in order to be able to go for a walk without the burden due to heels... which caused some suspicion rising in another chick.
"Too precise”, she said. Oh, dear... (!!)
And then my birthday: dressed as Minnie, after years that I had dreamed of it, at the Carnival in Ivrea... Perfect, even that evening: with Cristina (my friend’s wife) to support me, and people who wanted to take pictures with me.
And then the International Women's Day... what an idea! It was 8th March and it was Mardi Gras... could it have been better than that?
Short skirt, boots... beautiful music, the strawberry daiquiri which I had adored other times but... finally in the right shoes. Plus some idiots mocking at me, from both sexes, oh well...

And Gabriella smiled, and I wrote that post... telling her how I felt. More or less. We watched a moon eclipse together, via Internet. I changed my car, in that month of February, and she smiled seeing her initials in the new plaque.
Don’t give up on me now, Ben Harper: exactly. I remember with great affection when, one evening, I told her a bit sad in any case we’ll never meet... we're just talking: and she replied then you don’t know me.
She was sincere. And she wasn’t a monster, no.

I had also decided to give me a ride in Asia, not long before: the idea was born from an advertisement for low-cost flights to that continent... which then didn’t prove out real. But now I was convinced and so... passport and go!
I left for Malpensa by bus, after giving directions to a beautiful French girl who was taking the aforementioned bus in the wrong direction (!) and on the flights, both forward and return there were a bit all the luxuries (for once), including Adele’s CD – 21. Which I found very nice: about Rolling in the deep we’ve already spoken, but Turning tables and Set fire to the rain (by me renamed into set fire to yourself, to be used as expletive) and also Rumor has it and Someone like you.
And then... Lovesong. Lovesong? Like that one from 1989?
Not like, rather really a cover, in a beautiful almost acoustic version.
By now, the spoiler is almost discovered.

The trip was nice, Malaysia wasn’t bad whereas Indonesia, so islamish and with little knowledge of English language... a little less. I met two friends from an electronic forum in Penang and Kuala Lumpur, and then a chick that had seemed nice and friendly but then she was far less live in Jakarta. We even did those little things together.. and frankly, I could’ve done without. And not just because I never felt like the typical man: just because... some things make no sense, even though she was pricey. But her head... and then, what about projects?
It has to make sense, even sex. Reasoning women-like, yeah, and to which I stick completely. And in fact I loved those big warehouses full of clothes and those typical complete clothes (sari or what they were, including the Arabic headdress). I bought one to give later to Gabriella and of course I tried it on... and she asked me if she would have had to also draw herself the third eye!
Airplanes by BoB with Hayley Williams of Paramore was of course perfect for those two flights lasting twelve hours each - airplanes in the night sky / use a wish right now, wish right now...
And, shortly thereafter, I also discovered the sweet All I wanted and... naturally I stuck on it a bit of Irene’s photos and prepared a videoclip which I put on my Youtube: just like that... in the sense that the lyrics were perfect, poignant to right point... and also the video was so!
Oh, I forgot: in a hotel in Penang I watched for the first time a Justin Bieber’s videoclip. I pass on what I thought (!!!)

Meanwhile, there was also an earthquake in Japan with its radiation leakage from Fukushima.

Then, in late April I found the courage to go out during the day, for the first time! It was nice... although reconsidering successively those photos I was still pretty horrible. And, of course, after a few days I lost my cat... that one from the spring before, who was so sweet.
The two things were connected. And they would have been again and again.

So comes May, and she and I are keeping on writings things and we wanted to meet in mid-month, and for a case, it will be May 16... but with twice the years, and I smile at the idea (!)
Just can’t get enough, from Black Eyed Peas - and the beautiful version by the Zoo Tutti stanno sotto Gibba. And Don’t break this heart of mine, sung by another from that radio that is Rosario with his Flabby - Mario Biondi style. And then Uberlin (Berlin!), from the always fantastic Rem, and I also find here Solsbury Hill, a marvelous song by Peter Gabriel. And the curious and hushed 1000 dreams by Miss Kittin & The Hacker, which peddles me the friend of the A-ha group.
Bin Laden was killed in early May, among the other things.
Rise above, by Reeve Carney in collaboration with Bono and The Edge, is another song that takes me back to those high flights.

Physical, and also mental.
Gabriella alludes to the idea that she would like to have one third child. With me. It remains the only time... in my entire life, in which this idea was vaguely hinted at.
Meanwhile, we reason about what to do and when to meet again: we were good together, and so...
But... without that one from Blasphemous rumours you could not... or rather, you could live well, right? And so... I receive that comment on my blog.
Looking back, I can almost accept that basically I did everything myself. That is my mind, which dreamed… that: torture, suffering, perhaps atonement... and then it created a reality of its own, again. Or, rather, I had this thought in the following years, along with seeing what I really wanted to be, as a father or husband I wouldn’t have been much, and only brought problems.
While, on the other hand, today... or rather after the things I've seen in the last few years... I think I'm simply of a different breed. Perhaps sexually, but surely as brain and ethics: and even Gabriella, despite the words, would not measure up.
And of course not even Daniela: who wrote me one day, saying that she had read all my blogs and leaving a greeting while signing herself as strawberry - like that old famous carnival.
Heartbeat. In fact, not so much for her as she own self, rather at the thought that this was another of the famous dazed commentators bar-sports-like. Or worse (and like it would then have showed up sadly true) both at the same time (!!)
I reply her, in a generic mood. We exchange a few emails, I talk about the music from those years, of what I’ve done in the meantime... and she answers me. All normal. 22 years, but like it was yesterday, or nearly: and as for the shadows concerning how we had left... boh.

Meanwhile, I go down to my mother’s village, because we have to to share the inheritance from our uncle who passed away the year before; and, half way as I am, I am almost keen to continue to Palermo but... on a wall below my aunt’s house they appeared the words I love you Dany.
Yeah.
The stock market begins to collapse, in early June. I know why, everybody knows it... but this won’t help in the shitcountry: only Caparezza (along with Alborosie) sings Legalize the premier.
But I also know that... when Gabriella could've saved me, to use a recurrent formula in English songs, the world collapses like and more other times I've been in love: ...because I'm twisting fate. My mind is not ready, and it rejects everything.

I'm back home. I meet a kind of writer from a village near mine and her editor - two of the many disgusting people from that area (he, moreover, from Pisa!!) and I watch a pathetic more-than-thirty-years-old who describes feelings as a twelve years old. And her parents even make her compliments, pushed by her friends and publisher. To which I will shortly after deliver my Filadelfia Experiment, just completed, and - despite the agreements - he'll never even comment on it. This one deserves an event Breivik-like, to quote the times (!)
Raggamuffin, Selah Sue. So far away by Avenged Sevenfold. And Stand by Lenny Kravitz and Rivincita by Marracash with Giusy Ferreri. And The adventures of Rain Dance Maggie from RHCP, a bit repetitive. And above all me singing Lovesong in my car along to Adele, and I make a little videoclip starring myself...

We decide to meet, of course. Another sunrise, in the words of Planet Funk. It took a bit of time and now it has passed: so, on that twenty-fourth of June we fix our appointment and walk a little and then drink a beer. And she doesn’t want me to take pictures, although she’s not aged that much (of course, she was lean and remained stunted but...  )
I tell her about my mother, and she is sad: I believe the thing is mutual, yeah. She talks about her sister, her grandchildren... she isn’t married, she has lived with someone, especially the last eleven years. Dunno, as I see a picture of this guy and she will speak to me (a little, and I can understand why) about him... I will smile. Bitterly.
We say goodbye, gently touching our lips.
I arrive home and I'm shocked: twenty years... what a thing, even for the one who’s a Time Lord (!)
We reason about many things, and continue to write. I insert in my playlist of the moment the old Waiting for a star to fall from Boy meets girl, which in 1989 had remained only as a brief background of some evening. I take some old photos, and apply over them some thoughts: and she too seems to think sensible things.
About me and her. About the world - and reality - a bit less...
However she goes on vacation with her parents and we set an appointment upon her return: I, for my part, have arranged to see Gabriella in Sicily at the end of July and... I still believe in it. There will soon be the Red Diaries’ manifestation (Agende Rosse, ndt) in memory of judge Borsellino, and she has bought me one...
But I prepare a videoclip with lots of photos from me and Daniela and I mount it on the tune of Daniel from Bat for lashes, almost unconsciously willing to give some value on that song so beautiful but so tied to the tragic memories of two years before. I'll show it her... and she doesn’t seem to grasp much of the nuances, but overall she likes it.
The dream of home... a home in your eyes... and Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I'm at home again...
The most important songs were telling me that I had found my home again. After two decades - not bad.

I go to Gabriella’s, now quite convinced that there isn’t much future between me and her... the actual reasons i.e. the distance, her husband and... things like that are undoubtedly important, but of course it’s much more Daniela. And I have mentioned it, playing on the recurrence of the twenty-two, since I had been in Sicily the year before. She grasps something and isn’t happy. But my mind takes care of it: the stock markets are plummeting, just as the plane which takes me back home, and for the only time in my life made me feel chills, over Liguria... the little kittens that my cat had given to birth less than two months before suddenly disappear from home...
And then she tells me that her husband discovered something between the two of us, and then I say openly that I'm going to continue to meet Daniela and so... it all ends.

At least, make it worth: so I smile, and Daniela laughs, listening to Non potete capire from Fabri Fibra... more and more spectacular! "Dio non esiste e tu amico mio meriti di meglio!" "Vi distruggerò, non potete capire"
Prophetic, in many ways!
And then there is also something danceable, like Save the world today by Swedish House Mafia or Hello by Martin Solveig ft. Dragonette and also Beautiful people by Benny Benassi. Ah well, and even Moves like Jagger by Maroon 5 with Christina Aguilera, beautiful beautiful.
Alicja comes to visit me again, this time along with her husband: and so we walk around the lakes and then I accompany them back to the airport.

The only ten days of pure happiness in my past... say 15 years, take place in that early August. Everything perfect, everything relaxed. We will get together and live in our country home, as she had mentioned on that August 24 (!) 1990 in San Marino and I had taken it as a threat (!!)
We go out, we laugh, we talk. Valle Stretta and Ceresole, again. We make love and there is good understanding between our bodies, as always - as she would tell with an expression sounding negative to me, months later.

But... something is wrong. And it explodes on the day when I mention having children and she comes out with CIA injects microchips in all newborn, don’t you know?
Years later... at times I wondered if I were not to imagine everything. Words, phrases: the famous Truman Show, in fact. That is, when I told this story... to many people, even her former acquaintances, they all tumbled from the clouds.
But, fortunately in this case, there was and there is facebook: and you can easily check how many mentally ill people are crowding this (damn) planet...

That is, in the months before she had alluded to the Powers of the world, to lobbies more or less Jewish... but I had moved the discussion on the problems of capitalism, on its many distortions... And when she mentioned the reptilians, or imaginary planets X and UFOs... I would smile and minimize. Of course, when she insulted Gorbachev calling him the servant of not-sure-what, there I had become angry: and no! don’t touch Gorby! And had she not been a poorly-grown-old as a bit all of them... even she would not touch him, who had lived with me the years of Gorbachev - and the good he did in the world.

Instead, CIA. But also not being able to watch a science fiction film because Hollywood exploits aliens discoveries made by US army to build on stories and make fun of everyone. Really, you wouldn’t believe. But it wouldn’t be me, otherwise.
I knew that they existed conspiracy-theory fans, but... I was hoping they were away from me. But instead ©
That is to say, even with Gabriella they had come out some theories: money, lobbies, programmed obsolescence, the obvious September 11... but, in fact, they were theories. To be discussed, keeping our minds open, but... without overdoing them.

And instead, in fact.
Thus, the tenth anniversary of September 11th I spent it in Asti festival, alone and with my eyes swollen with tears. Because, of course, after that speech about children... I hadn’t been able to stand. Again to me, I said to myself. And yet no future, I told her. And then I had been crying, and I felt a deep disappointment.
In fact, what happened was.. disruptive, but mostly annoying: it was like if I had prepared for years to see her again correcting all my mistakes... and now she sucked. I had been thinking for twenty years to that ending in Superga and to the son of a bitch from Settimo (sorry, I don’t know if it had to do with his mother), and then to our history, to those three years... yes, like indeed I always thought about all of my life. But you see, inside I was quite convinced that I had made some mistakes - as well as she - and that if I had had a second chance (remember Io confesso...) I would’ve come ready to our rendezvous: I would’ve apologized for my mistakes, accepted her apologies and, in case, we would have restarted from scratch...
Accrued, not rotted.
That's the difference. Now, six years later, I realize that, chromosome or not chromosome, love or no love... there was no hope that things could go in the direction dictated by the logic that I had imagined.
Not on this planet, not with humans. But it would take a few more years, yep.

And so, Days are forgotten from Kasabian... so raw: it was all forgotten, for a second time, simply forgotten. And Love get out of my way by Monarchy, to mention some dance music, and The Prince & the old lady shade by Peter Murphy, when I wanted to joke a bit on us, and the little dumb who apostrophised me in an ill manner with "why, do you think of yourself like a prince?"
Me, quite, but you certainly are a dark shaded old lady 
In late August I went to watch Niccolò Fabi in Carmagnola, an outdoor concert: I had dreamed of going there wearing a miniskirt but then... I wasn’t in the mood (and I wasn’t ready yet). And indeed I wouldn’t have had that strength... And the concert was perfect... but seeing him so sad and aged, made me re-think how much he must have suffered. The whole atmosphere was strange, indeed, that evening: the support band were remarkable... and sang some rather special tracks, which unfortunately I never found again.
Then again Drive, Ed Kowalczyk. Oh, incidentally, I want to reveal one secret: the evening of Saturday, September 10, I burned in my garden that lingerie set of hers that she had left at my place, after making some photos, for... I don’t know why. I rejoiced greatly when then she came to ask me and even made the joke that maybe I wanted to wear it... but instead it had been simple voodoo (!!)

They died Steve Jobs and Marco Simoncelli, in that autumn: and I had Gabriella, with which we were to write back after some time, smiling as I posted a photo of me with an apple in my mouth. About the motorcyclist is not that it mattered much but I remember the laughter more or less black humor style that flowed on the usual sites (!)
Ah, right: even Amy Winehouse, but in the summer.

We continued to see each other, with Daniela. At times it looked like something could be built, while at other times she sounded delirious, and frankly, I was not bashing her. Just like she was no longer making herself beautiful for me like the first time - and, like all humans, she even dared to deny that it was so. She quoted Brucerò per te from Negrita as if it concerned us "with that videoclip showing photographs in frames" and I used to look at her with disdain, because I didn’t want more nostalgic things about her - I had already accumulated a lot. I wanted, I would’ve wanted, to build...
In some cases, I dedicated her The bitch came back by Theory of a deadman, perfect! Which then, actually, in retrospect, would have been perfect as well for Roberta, years before (!). But above all, it was a cover of The cat came back, a song from the English folklore... which, knowing my love for cats, had devoted Tania the stalker the year before.
Everything making sense and connected, yep.

October, I work in my garden as always... Italy is going to default. We meet, from time to time we make love, but - just like twenty years before and as always - I can’t stand meeting that way.
I find again here a pleasant cover of Shake the disease from the always very good Hooverphonic, dated 1998. And even God and Satan by Biffy Clyro: interesting for that phrase I talk to God as much as I talk to Satan ‘cause I want to hear both sides…
I go out relatively often, during the day and around my area, dressed: and it makes me feel good, I like myself and I like the feeling; and one day in September I go to Torino, in my old neighborhood... wearing a yellow dress to the knee... and I feel good. And I stumble into Nicola and his son, and my heart explodes with fear but he (naturally) doesn’t recognize me... and I can only smile.
Nothing ever by chance.

In late October we meet one evening for a romantic dinner and we make love and it's nice. Then a few days later, we organize a similar thing but... she doesn’t want to have sex and I (who often struggled to see her wearing back her clothings which I actually yearned were mine) I suffer... all I've always suffered: my role, my having to try, my having to accept for her to decide, my hormones. As well as the pounding rain that lasts forty-eight hours and that, because of my nice inconclusive neighbors, is ruining my little house in the garden.
I collapse. I write that I want to die. I go out in the rain swearing against the evil god that makes me always and only hurt. So, for a while we don’t write ourselves: but that one from the Depeche song is still there and so, as I try not to stay at home alone, I meet on the usual horrific site another homonym of Daniela, who wants to go to a Halloween party... and the evening turns into yet another nightmare - I've told that story several times under the name of After hours, like the famous movie from 1986 (!)
This story too, as I tell it, provokes laughter and incredulity: well, of course, when your mind is to create reality... anything can happen. A little like in Inception - coming soon... (!!)

I feel sick. In early November I decide to take a tour with a lilac coat that I had recently bought and that of course I had no chance to wear (even on the night of Halloween, passed downtown along with two other mussels from the famous club, vaguely dressed as witches): so I get ready and go to the truffle fair in Rivalba, where I had been several times in the past. And, first I step in Rosanna's house and then to Superga, then at the the famous Salle and again in my old neighborhood in Torino. But it’s night, and I just get a little bit of fear. And I make a few photos, though dark. I even find myself under Cristina's house, the famous old ex-advisor, on the hills and... I walk quickly in front of their house: and then, upon returning to the car, Regina veleno by Rezophonic (a rib from Prozac +) and... I start to cry. That is, perhaps not externally, because I was afraid of ruining my make up (!) but inside...
Regina veleno è come un animale che è stato ferito, può solo far male / Regina veleno si sente mancare si volta di fianco, inizia a vomitare / Regina veleno non crede a nessuno e nessuno le crede, nessuno le crede.
Me. Yep, with the aggravating circumstance that I’m even a transgender. And I have un cuore piegato, ghiacciato, malato e paralizzato, che potrebbe dare miele quando viene più dolce del mare... but they never let it out.

I'm still sick. I decide to tell about me to Daniela: I buy her a present and step by her house. And, of course, I only make things worse...
Imagine if one with a head so narrow, she could understand... if she could understand that which now, finally free as a man or a woman, I call the grandeur of my mind! She smiled about my nice pictures (I was also in Pinerolo and by my former partner’s house wearing heels and a miniskirt, a few weeks earlier) and then she bothered to ask me if therefore I had lied to her while I was making love to her.
And then she even mocked openly about me when I suggested she could accompany me sometimes in those clothes.
Obvious: you love craps, not the good ones who love you...

Now, years later, I don’t know if I really loved her, in that 2011: I do know that, in fact, it was all a further Truman Show... fueled yet (also) by the fact that even in Sicily, after having made love to Gabriella, I had imagined myself taken with force or humiliated in any of my fantasies. And sure enough it had happened - as always. Daniela was just a figment of my mind: she was to remain confined in her time, with her small ideals (I smiled when she told me that she had taken one single flight in her life: I was certainly unlike the filthy banker living only to travel but... at least a minimum, I mean) and her even smaller life spent for 13 hours a day in dirty Volpiano.
The following year I commented then that the problem wasn’t that Daniela had returned, but that there had never been anything decent after her...

But November brought, if nothing else, at least one good thing: the fall of the pedonano aka Berlusconi!
That November 12th, just a day after 11-11-11 that would’ve been horrifying to conspiracy believers (she said that the mad, that number one was Masonic) and making me smile... it was celebrated - as I promised - with a bottle of champagne and a video in style New Year's train on youtube! And then came the further comments of Italian stoned pigs, among which the most enjoyable was thou hast nothing to laugh in your two square meters kitchen (!)
I, in my house over three floors. I, who wanted to live in a decent place. I, who wanted to pay the IMU tax. But had to share the air with mafia beasts and assholes.
Sorry for the holes. But Goodbye malinconia, in fact, for the great idea by Caparezza to involve Tony Hadley from Spandau Ballet and... for some reason, this link between Hadley and Puglia I knew it was already there. Dunno, maybe due to Nicola: an elongated face typical of Puglia, as well as Tony...
But, well, technically they were seventeen years! And I had promised to berlu... immediately after Irene, that he wouldn’t go beyond his seventeenth year of empire... and behold, it happened! And it gave me, if anything, a bit of confidence (it also has to be pointed out that Gabriella had gone married in 1994...!)

Which, anyway, wouldn’t have been much of use.
In December I went to my Southerner cousin's wedding (!!!), at which I had been invited in June: looked like decades had past... the famous inscription was still under my aunt's house...
I hated that dress and that tie for the umpteenth-once again, and I envied the girls with their heels and their stockings. And, somehow, I even asked myself how a perfect fool like that one could have found a girl so good and so stupid to believe all the rubbish and falsehoods that his mother (my most false aunt and potentially Camorra-close, like my mom called her) had foisted on various events of the past.
Well, basically, since we’ve just talked about Berlusconi, it isn’t difficult to understand... (!!!!)
Then I set off on a long ride to Italy, to meet girlfriends and friends I had found on facebook that year: Teramo, Ancona, Imola, Pavia... and it was pretty enough. Over the Apennines Radio 105 couldn’t be received, so I changed channel and I stumbled by chance upon Radio DJ where there were the three mutineers... and I wished then more bad things (!)
I kept on thinking about Daniela and so I probably lost a chance with that chick of Teramo with which we used to talk about music but not only... The Smiths, in particular. But, in any case, it would’ve been useless. And not just because I was sleeping at night in a nightgown when I had a chance: and in that Teramo hostel there was Ora by Jovanotti on television, and it was hot...
I went back home, dodging the pork customer’s branch - the famous brother who seemed less shit but no - who phoned me continously even though I had explained him that I was to stay away only ten days. I went at Daniela’s home, we spent a couple words.

On Christmas Eve I asked her if she wanted to go to the Sacra di San Michele on foot and she seemed very happy and accepted. Then, after twenty minutes of ascent she began to complain that she was tired and that it had been a bad idea...
I filled her with insults. As always, since 1995: they changed and gave freak out after less than one month...
In all those years I had learned that all males used to describe their women exactly like that and so I had started to wonder how they managed to accept it and... after having filtered out more obviously fake reasons... I realized that it was just a matter of sex. Which to me obviously wasn’t that interesting or at least not as much and so... I could not.
Fortunately, after another bit of time I realized that there was more - in some way more important. But we'll get there in the future! Let’s just mention, because it was serious (but not for her) that Daniela had reneged the promise to return to Serre-Chevalier, the place where we had been happy in that famous spring and that basically defined and united us. Or Fabrizio who had told me why don’t we go and have a pizza, then he was gone, and when I asked him explanations... he had responded I'm an artist and I have the right to change my mind, and when we met (stroke of bad luck!) at a pizzeria in Giaveno he said it’s all due to internet fault - after making his debut mocking me in front of her. Face like their ass, like always, like everyone: needless to say I haven’t seen him since then.

So they passed Nothing but love for you by Axwell and Called out in the dark from Snow Patrol, with which I fell in love from the first moment! I don’t know why... to some extent it was the phrase this is your life, this is your time in which I also heard a this is your decision's time... and I was trying to figure out where to go with my girlfriend. And then those girls dancing, so cute... how it all would’ve been nicer and easier if I had been born like them.
It was setting up a year, or rather two years, to panic: Daniela told me she was going to spend New Year’s Eve at the seaside (notice the non-coincidence, in the same place from the infamous Beppe’s aunt legacy  ) And so I decided that I could spend it in my proper shoes... and I left home around nine, while she mocked me with an SMS that ended with bye, cinzia...

The nice Reaching out from Nero, with that sample of Out of touch by Hall & Oates, accompanied me on that ride into the mountains. Along with Read all about it with Dolcenera and Professor Green (fantastic!), Constant now by Deus (the eternal present which I always hated... as I wrote in Promesse) and Something for the weekend by Ben Westbeech and Titanium by David Guetta ("I'm bulletproof"). I had been looking for a place Tra gli dei, as they sang Subsonica with Club Dogo and... I didn’t find it. And Little white dove... that is, me, was back with her wings on the ground - unlike Dirty Vegas sang.


Stay from the Hurts belongs to 2011, but I discovered it later!

Non potete capire, Fabri Fibra

Io confesso, La Cruz

Pyro, Kings of Leon

 2012

She immediately phoned me the next day, because she wanted us to go for a pizza: I accepted the invitation and, at her explosive joy and sweetness, I replied coldly why did you leave me alone at New Year’s?
She had no answer, or rather it seemed natural to her that there was nothing wrong, so I told her to go f* herself. Nothing wrong in treating me like this: obvious, right? since you just want to be mistreated (or abused).
Too bad, because even in eating pizza together we had a good understanding (!)

I began to despair, for real. That is, as if you could make a scale of despair...
I left my house one night with a knife in my hand, trying to find a place to slit my wrists. I took a picture while I was trying to hang me to the floor beams. I tried to fill the interior of my car with exhaust gas, using a pipe connected to the muffler...
No eh, it couldn’t always be just tears, this damned life: even finding Daniela again and seeing her head-broken, no! And losing Gabriella because of her... As I then focused, there was nothing that could distract me from her: except for Time. Or Love, or rather a Love Suspended in Time. Daniela could have been returning at any moment, but instead she appeared exactly that month... just to scuttle the only sensible proposal that I had received in a decade or more.
That the one from Blasphemous rumours was fighting against me, it had always been clear, but well... this was too much, really! I wanted to meet him in person and punch him! That’s enough...

Needless to say I wasn’t able to do that... and I only recently added Daniela did not deserve it. That I sacrificed myself for her, I mean (!)
But I cried and cried. In late January, for two weeks, there was a freezing cold: I feared for my little car and also for the house heating, like the caring hydraulic guy wrote me one evening.
And it was of course the cold inside of me which took material form outside. Stocks, again, despite the horse-care by Mario Monti: people shouting to sell all bank stocks, because soon there would be nothing left...
The Concordia ship sinking – Itagly’s metaphor but not only (passing over Schettino). Me winning two tickets to a concert in a nightclub in Milano to Radio 2, but then I don’t go because of the bitter cold... it was nice, however, the program entitled Popcorner: I wonder what happened to Adinolfi...
I listen to M'abituerò from Ligabue and try to overcome even the latest blow: I'll get used to stop thinking about Daniela... again, like twenty years before. Then Somebody that I used to know by Gotye: the song would also be nice... but I still can’t listen to it, even today. It reminds me of Daniela... let your friend collect your number and you didn’t have to cut me off – it was more something happened the time before rather that now, but...
And it also reminds me of Flora. We still used to phone ourselves, from time to time. Desperate at the idea of being alone (I had also planned to go to Florence to watch a concert from Negrita with Valentina...) I passed by her house two or three times, in those weeks: to check if, maybe, it was finally time for...
But when I heard her raving about that kind of apartment, about her horrible friend (another case of friend with benefit, I believe), and that at 45 she didn’t know the price of a packet of pasta or some kind of biscuits... I abandoned it all. That cat, the way she asked me to shoot pictures of her with the poor (and unsympathetic) animal.
It was the last time I saw her, and I do not mind. She, her government job which you could not criticize, and her nostalgia canaglia (yes, moreover she loved Al Bano) for the high school and the whole past life without joy.
Hers, exactly (!!)
I mean, not that I was much happier. But at least I wasn’t stupid.

For Carnival I went to a torchlight procession in Beaulard, of which I learned by reading a sign on New Year's Eve evening: and, in short, it wasn’t too bad... even though I wasn’t in the clothes that I desired.
When we stand together, Nickelback – which has always reminded me Days are forgotten by Kasabian: we must stay together... And then Lullaby too, of course. Let’s go on like this, hurting ourselves... (cit.)
In those days when I was searching for the strength to... kill myself, I made a videoclip celebrating my whole little house... now complete with furniture and everything and so empty, desperately empty. And as a soundtrack I used The death of you and me by Noel Gallagher now solo or better with High Flying Birds... perfect: the death of you and me, yeah. If only Daniela had cared a bit about us: no, actually she still did care... but she was there only to hurt me, as always since that famous year.
You get bored, she apostrophised me when I said that, as from my forecast ever since, I could now afford not to work. And I would then reply that she on the other hand was wasting her life commuting and believing in phony news, and that eventually she reminded me much of my ex idiot co-worker - she had also known for twenty years before. And then she got angry... truth always hurts 
Look around and Monarchy of roses by Red hot chili peppers were two very good songs, worthy of their best production! And they remind me... other human cases, like that friend from the carnivals of one year before, and in summer she had invited me to her birthday... in January and then in February she suggested we meet, I agreed, then she changed the day and I accepted, then she changed day again, then again... at which I sent her to hell by saying she deserved everything that happened (divorce, a previous man who mistreated her...) and she, poor thing, as always became angry.
Filled with courage, these humans, really (!!)
And in that same period I met another anorexic (!!!) among the blood donors... and then we started meeting each other, from time to time. Another torturer, I would later say.
Why do you come here (by Hal): why do you come here? Yep.

Around my birthday we start meeting again with Daniela: nothing special, nothing particularly better than before. Me at her house for dinner, who set Panama by Ivano Fossati (strangely restored from a remote past) as ringtone of my phone... Me looking for a free WiFi and she tells me that she hopes there are none because she doesn’t want electromagnetic waves to ruin her health.
Too late, it seems (!!!)

It lasts a little, and then one night I shut the phone on her because I’m fed up of half things, again and again.
Little talks by Of monsters and men isn’t bad. And Drive by from the Trains, very nice, with a nice rhythm and beautiful lyrics.
Ah, and then there was If I had a gun still by Noel Gallagher and... it reminds me of one guy who wrote me he devoted it to me because I was always angry. Yeah yeah... (!)

In April I meet, after thirty years or more, the relatives on my dad’s side! For a moment it finally looks like a good thing coming out of the usual horrible site, but... soon we’ll understand that it is not. Some time before I go and visit one of those who I knew were living in Milano and she owns a bungalow in a camping in Val d'Aosta: I collect many compliments (as always, by the brain-damaged mussels without a life) and the stunning revelation that my dad used to wear dark glasses in the evening or at night... as I often did in the discos!
And then, by the twenty-fifth of April, I go to Bolzano to meet other cousins: obviously our aunts all died... they tell me a bit of things, some people I don’t remember at all - especially the other one which looks crazy about me and who has an adopted son who seems escaped from a Chechen training camp (!!!) - but instead I do remember the pretty blonde... she tells me that she remembers she used to take me in her arms, she shows me a few pictures of her parents, grandparents...
By the way, exactly one year before I had gone to that village nearby Padua from which my dad came - as I was returning from my famous customer in Ferrara.

Nothing. Nothing to add, I'm always feeling bad. I decide to even go in Greece, and this time it will be a continous challenge with the cell phone to see if Euro explodes and everything collapses... there will be elections soon... Even Lucio Dalla’s death at the beginning of March is linked, in my mind, to the MIB returning to 18000 level...!
You can understand that I'm hurt by the faces I have in the photos. I meet a girl who speaks almost only German... again, in two different cities! La mia valigia, from Litfiba - and my flights. And then I make a videoclip together to a pregnant cat who approached me, and in the video I am teasing Daniela and that microchip thing. Inside, I'm crying... but I can try to laugh. Like when I am back in Ceresole and film airplanes in the sky and the trails they leave, and here I make a video while I despise them using my voiceover...

In May there is an earthquake in Emilia. They die, among other things, Scalfaro (remember, the only bulwark against Berlusconi, too good for Itagly) and even Whitney Houston.

Glitter and gold, by Rebecca Ferguson, and then Only the horses by Scissors Sisters. Everything blurred, everything understated: even Superfuture by Gary Go, which in theory could talk about me (!) and be auspicious. Or maybe it was the usual teasing by the one from the Depeche Mode song...
At the time, sometimes I walked into the church, when I was touring with my right shoes: and usually it happened some (further) catastrophe... and so I became scared - or swearing - at the thought that I had no place in the world... either as a man or as a woman, even in the house which should accommodate everybody...

We began meeting each other again after her SMS in June, exactly on the day that I went to Ceresole (and, out of my car, I had in my mind Norwegian wood by Aaron English band - a wonderful mix of Beatles and Led Zeppelin) and it only served to give me further pain... reaching for the point in that July night when I thought what if I take a knife and kill her while she sleeps? I couldn’t stand anymore, imbecility and the search for friends with benefits performed by idiots. And her.
Then I didn’t do that. But a few months later, it was out Siamo morti a vent’anni from Il Cile, which reported an image very similar to this one... (!!)
In July, if nothing else, I went for a ride to the mountains wearing a flowered top and a green skirt (and ballerinas, and matching nail polish) which made me feel... divinely! Those were perhaps the most beautiful picture I had ever done... until then, of course! And that outfit entered straight into Mele a metà!

Again, she wouldn’t be there for the holidays, so I went again in Tuscany where, in theory, I used to feel good and I would have relaxed but... among the stocks collapsing again, the battered camping (the same as in 2002, because the nicer one was full) and then feeling so out of place... and the bad idea of keeping in touch with her via phone... I felt pretty bad. The only nice memory remains that video devoted to my twenty-seven years spent in that camping - that one from 1985.
A dinner with Valentina and her friends. The Olympic Games, passed quietly. Photos, more or less useless. Kill the DJ by Green Day, nice and pretty similar to Panic station by Muse from the following year, and then We found love by Rihanna with Calvin Harris, and Calling (lose my mind) by Alesso. And PES from Club Dogo. And the sad (for me) Satellite by Colapesce and Meg (from 99 Posse) that made me cry at the thought of... staying on the beach making love, something that hadn’t happened in twenty years.
By the way, Donna Summer died that year and in fact... on my way to Tuscany passing by Bolgheri and thinking that sending a souvenir photo from twenty-three years earlier... could be a nice idea, the radio was playing This time I know it's for real. And I sent an audio message to Daniela - wasted.

Because, in fact, upon returning home she came to me one evening to specify that our history was not doing well and that she would leave me. Oh really? I thought, rationally. But at the time I allowed her to give me a sarcastic kiss on my cheek... for which I swore revenge. Every time I listen to Blow me one last kiss by Pink I think about it... and I imagine a punishment for her ("you will pay for your sins / you'll be sorry my dear").
Who, after all, had already been punished enough: mostly for her stupidity. In fact, our last reason to quarrel, a few weeks before, had been the story of the demented from 1985 who wanted me to remove her name from my tale... and Daniela had said I was wrong to get angry at her. Of course, the same person who decades earlier had said how stupid that Cristina not to get to date you...
But, we know. And besides, it was also obvious that, in terms of ethics... we weren’t much at ease: because of the famous story of 1991 she hadn’t talked that much (and I could accept it after all) except making me smile at the thought that when she was with the famous swindler, talking about me was off-limits (!) because he was angry. Truth always hurts, we know (!!)
And, after all, no one had ever called me right, just to make me feel they had a minimum of ethics, if not Laura - my girlfriend in 1992: she had commented why some people don’t just die?
The minimum, and also basically all I could wish for: knowing that people by my side me were able to distinguish right from wrong.

Obviously not Daniela. Who, however, let us recall, didn’t exist for real (!!!)
I learn only now that Martin Fleischmann, one of the discoverers of cold fusion (announced, as we know, March 23, 1989) died August 3, 2012: i.e. when the mad decided to leave. Never again I will use the word coincidences (!!!!)


However, I was back at crying. Or rather, the shock was so strong that in fact I sublimated everything and started doing something else: dressing like in my dreams and go taking a ride in August, and then cook my mother's lasagna in the right shoes. Arguing with usual infamous customers, like the one who woke up after three months of his delays and on the day before I left for vacation, he showed up at my house and ordered me to finish that job. How many things I told him - and still do (!)
And, here, Gabriella as well, from the top of her facebook, said that I was wrong. I wonder when will people learn to be polite...

After World War III, I guess (!!!!)

Caparezza sang Kevin Spacey, a nice idea. And then there were other dance tracks such as Don’t you worry child by Swedish House Mafia... don’t you worry child / see, Heaven’s got a plan for you... yeah, right. And I met a girl of a different kind / we ruled the world.
If ever it was, it didn’t last long. Just enough time to think at the words by Dolcenera in Ci vediamo a casa and complain....

September, october. Hall of fame, again by The Scripts, perhaps their most famous song but which I didn’t like. Un angelo disteso al sole by Ramazzotti, acceptable, after all this time. Back in Ardeche after twelve years... and complain, yet, on the border with France. Go to the cemetery with a skirt (as indeed I had done the year before) to visit my parents. Burn it down and Castle of glass by Linkin Park and the curious Sono così Indie by Lo stato sociale.

And then the fall. Sleep alone, as always, by Two Door Cinema Club. Pizzas with friends, including that occasion when (curiously) Franco breaks himself an arm cursing against something. Skyfall by Adele, who possibly want to overdo it and from there begins what I call her hasty end. Brendan's death song by RHCP. Try, again from Pink, remarkable, and Receive by Alanis Morrissette. Whistle by Florida, that would’ve even been fun. Man of simple pleasures by Kasabian, pretty. And of course Una buona idea and Elementare by Niccolò Fabi, the sublimation of that pain dating back two years before: mi basterebbe essere padre / di una buona idea I found it pathetic - for the first time one of his songs gave me that feeling. Elementare... it was sad, of an abyss of sadness: elementare come un bacio in una favola (the one I had been lacking for ever, even if in theory it was such a simple thing); and la sensazione di essere immortale di chi ha perso tutto and then quella stanza in fondo al corridoio, quella in cui quando si entra tutto quanto è buio / così afferra la maniglia, respira, chiude gli occhi, apre la porta e tutto è li… perfect… Perfect description of what he must have felt.
I hadn’t many tears left, in that period: however, those words...
For quite a while of time I tried not to think about what had happened in that last year.

And try to do anything else. To the tune of The celestials by Smashing Pumpkins I went to Eliana Monti’s center… to smile about how you can pay some money (and not only) to find love. Of course, I flew over it, but I spent a couple of hours telling my stories, and I enjoyed that (!)
In the end, Marina Rei’s L’errore, strangely not much played around (gettonata, ndt, like you’d have told decades before), was really well written: Credi davvero di essere il solo / a volerne un milione di possibilità? and la conseguenza naturale dell'errore / è dubitare che l'errore in fondo ci sia stato mai. Including her quoting Battisti.

However, the end of 2012 approached and even the supposed end of the world as from the prophecy: Caparezza joked with another stroke of genius, that is La fine di Gaia, and I wrote an email to the crazy conspiracy theorist, teasing her. It was also the last time I read her reply.

If anything, Obama had been reconfirmed. And the Curiosity probe had arrived on Mars! Moreover, Neil Armstrong died, in that year.
Oh, and let’s remember the story of Malala, a Pakistani child: horrible, but at least a happy ending.

I also wish to remember The veldt by Deadmou5, out in May 2012 and become a beautiful constant of 105 Zoo. And, to give some positivity to these pages so full of Ruin - as sang Cat Power - add that Marco Mazzoli’s birthday falls on Irene's name day (!!!!!)

Drive by, Trains

The Veldt, Deadmou5

Satellite, Colapesce ft. Meg