17 songs - My autobiography (7)

2013

For New Year’s Eve I decided to go to Istanbul, another city that I had been wanting to visit for some time and about which I had spoken in summer with a friend of Valentina’s.
I left watching those DUEMILACREDICI (two-thousand-believe-it, ndt) printed slogans in Caselle airport, and... it was obvious to me that that one from the Rumours was still fooling me: or, as now it’s more clear, that I had not much optimism in store...
The town was nice (and full of cats) and I wandered back and forth several times: it was cheap but it was organized quite well... then, yes, people didn’t speak much English but ok. And it was more or less safe, with quite lots of police: in hindsight, you would’ve even said too much. And remember that where I step... something happens (see, later, Taksim Square in May of that year!)
I spent the night of the thirty-one, or rather part of it, in a disco-pub: where I wasn’t amused at all, thanks to the dreadful repetition of Gangnam style by PSY, and the fact that I couldn’t even get to make me a photo with some gal or some guy. Besides, I had also found myself talking with a young Kurd who wanted to go on to win (note, not to just play) in Las Vegas...
Some ideas on humanity had started being very clear (!!)

I kept on going around dressed, mostly in the evening, near my home town or somewhere nearby: boots, snow... it wasn’t bad. I wrote a post which was meant to be a little fun and at the same time sincere, talking about men I had liked... and in practice it was just Tom Cruise and Corrado Guzzanti 
And then another post, inspired by I follow rivers by Lykke Li: after that ride I had been thinking Can I follow you? please... and I had dedicated it to Irene or at least to a few people that were worth to follow. In order to build together something great...

In January befell those two things... strange, which would then lead to the events of 2014, but at that time I archived them in more or less the usual Italia-like chaos. Including Berlusconi being back again and again, who promised to remove taxes and almost won the election, again and again. You really needed a lot of courage to still promise what couldn’t be promised, after 2011. And it took a lof of courage to vote for him (!)
I wrote a big swear sentence against the pedonano on one of my house wall, and some beast of Satan sent me brigades – at which of course I didn’t open.
It began to be very obvious, what to do - even if a few years late.

I see you from Jutty Ranx I've always more or less associated with I follow rivers, but only for some sound similarity: this one in fact, rather than talking about dreams and ideals... tickled at me other fantasies and I was immersed into them, and enjoyed them...

Some carnivals here and there, now even in the daytime and friends’ home... telling now more or less openly that it wasn’t just a masquerade, but always stating I'm not gay... for some reason it seemed an important detail (!)
For Valentine's Day I was obviously alone, as always: and, if nothing else, David Bowie sang Valentine's day in a pretty good return. A return consisting of a series of remarkable tracks, in fact.
And L’amore è un’altra cosa, yep, as she sang Arisa since the year before.
Oh, I forgot: Gazebo (that Gazebo!) was in concert in Avigliana in those months and I went to see him: his voice was still there and his songs as well but... that environment filled with poorly aged and his way of acting as a dated playboy singer... left me a bit so.
Oh well.

I decided to go to London for my birthday. But I was bad, I started to feel really bad: I almost missed the outbound flight because of an unusual queue at the highway (during which the radio was screaming My name is stain by Shaka Ponk and it made me feel like a stain) and then, on returning, because of the excess of zeal by that customs officer who told me, with beautiful calm (cit.) to throw away a too big gel tube (!)
A toothache started a few days before tortured me for the days spent there; the weather was crap... and even meeting Alicja wasn’t particularly fun. In the norm, let’s say, apart from a few jokes on Women's Day.
But I remember with pleasure those jokes exchanged with other Italians, related about going away from the shitcountry and emigrate to London: the hassle for Berlusconi and the pope... and soon they both would be gone! And Pope Francesco, in his little, has at least a little sense – I thought it right away and I still think it.

Pompeii, by Bastille, but especially Things we lost in the fire and Laura Palmer... were perhaps the only good thing about those days. The poster from Bad blood in the underground (another significant title... was my blood bad?) and then I was the match and you were the rock / maybe we started this fire... obviously dedicated to Daniela. And all the things we lost in the fire and do you understand that we will never be the same again? The flames… turned to dust all that I adore... (after all in the video you can read the date August 8, 2011...)
But also, and above all, this is your heart, can you hear it? The night was all you had, you ran into the night from all you had...
I started feeling lost. Beyond any... thing. If you had your gun / would you shoot it at the sky?
You can count on it, of course. To that one from the Rumours...

I went to visit my cousin in Milano, being in her area for work: in December I had also gone to those in Bolzano, because in Trento I had participated at the so-called awards of a little writers’ contest, to whom I had sent my cute (!) Ex post facto.
Then the girl from Teramo found herself coming to Torino for her brother’s wedding, or what was it... and so we went to Superga and then a little around with me in the shoes that I liked - especially the famous lilac coat. And between that little trip and carnival, I gathered many compliments, so many cute phrases...

Quite the opposite of what was like everyday life: the famous neighbors and builders, that after four years hadn’t even started to build a small house in which we had put some of money each (because in 2009 it seemed you could trust them... but you know how people end...)
A former client asked me to prepare a device... that should have been installed at the Venice Biennale! Venice, where I hadn’t returned since 1981 (the school trip) and where we had decided to go in 1989 with Daniela... and then we had done nothing of it.
So, thanks to this, I ended up going twice in that city... and I cried. Inside out. Desperate... I began to be really desperate: I wrote a little poem inspired by Nobody's home from Avril Lavigne and there I inserted all the girls I had (or had not) had... and the idea of my empty house was destroying me.
I started (again) to idolize Daniela, and that image of love we had had two years before. That sucking, that epitome of stupid things... it was all I had had in my life: and what good had been there twenty years before, was now covered with disgust. I wanted to castrate myself, I wanted to die. I tried to take the hormones found in the usual hospitals where I worked, but with relatively poor outcomes.

La morte non esiste più, sang Baustelle... but I wasn’t convinced – on the opposite. One day (the reckoning song) by Asaf Avidan I always associated with Somebody that I used to know... and that one day baby, we'll be old / oh baby, we'll be old / and think of all the stories that we could have told was destroying me. We come running by Youngblood Hawke was pretty and full of energy. Heaven by Depeche Mode was a bit subdued and for Die young from Kesha... I was a bit late, now. Possibly mine by Common Mama is a nice little thing from those months, and I find in these playlists also Glory box by Portishead, otherwise known as Give me a reason to be a woman... so deep and touching, which at that time I made mine for several reasons. And which, I discover now, dates 1994 or better, as reported by Wikipedia, January 2nd, 1995...
End of night by Dido, a bit repetitive but good as always. And Cigno nero by Fedez with Francesca Michielin.
My head is a jungle by Wankelmut with Emma Louise: yes, my head was, in a positive sense. But maybe not at the time...
In fact, I felt closer to Up in the air by 30 seconds to Mars... This is a portrait of a tortured you and I / is this the end? I've been up in the air... / stuck in a moment of emotion I destroyed. Up in the air, chasing a dream so real. Is this the end I feel?... You were the love of my life... I'll wrap my hands around your neck / so tight with love, love, love...
Needless to say whom I was thinking at. Day and night, waking up crying in the middle of a dream with her (or even of generical solitude)...
I was sinking. Falling to pieces, as she sang Sia with David Guetta in She wolf.

Tangled up by Caro Emerald was a bit more cheerful, and so the mythical Get lucky by Daft Punk. I loved All about us by Jean Elan and Cosmo Klein too and Where I stand by Lostcause with Fabo, which was somewhat similar. Daylight from Maroon 5 I found very similar to Payphone and Bonfire heart by James Blunt was acceptable. Safe and sound by Capital Cities was original and appealing, and so it was Can’t hold us by Macklemore. And then there was the curious The sun by Western Disco. And Killer from Baby K with Tiziano Ferro, brilliant in its own way... and that battle of the sexes, I didn’t want to be on the side of him (straight or gay it didn’t matter).
All gray, although there was often the sun in that spring and then in summer. And despite the wonderful Too many friends by Placebo, from that perfect album which would later be Loud like love: my computer thinks I'm gay... never a thing by chance, as we underlined with Roberta from Abruzzi.

I went to Venice for a second time, and on return I almost cried all the time, looking out the window and trying not to get caught by the two from the other company. As if that weren’t enough - but in the end it was fairly obvious - in those weeks I started being stalked by a chick on facebook... curiously exactly from Venice and… ugly: not only ugly, but she resembled well the stalker from three years earlier. And even our dialogues didn’t shine... I remember those long useless phone calls like a torture...
I put my hands over my ears, yep, like the child from La la la by Naughty boy: I wanted to get away from it all, I didn’t want to hear anything more about those words, that life which meant nothing... and on the damn site people pitied me - or, say, tried to cheer me up. And then there was We will save the show by Viola (Violante Placido), wonderful! We will save the show, we will let everyone know we’re so happy...
It could have been me and her. She, who? But it would have been right... I deserved it...
Instead it was all so unfair. You will never know by Imany, touching, obviously dedicated to Irene. And a trip to the mountains and seeing Stellina written on a log with a date (I think 1994)... and rethink at Daniela - when she was healthy and used to call me by that nickname. And Love me again by John Newman, and inside I was screaming can you love me again / I need to know now / know now, can you love me again?. And even things a bit more normal like O 'vient by Clementino or Don’t call my name by Raphael Gualazzi, or La razionalità by Velvet with that curious and interesting videoclip: not exactly happy but with the senior scientist... and l’aria che ti manca se le storie non finiscono come volevi tu...

Drew, by Goldfrapp: beautiful, for crying rivers of tears... and make me once again (or maybe for the first time seriously) realize that I felt things differently from males - but also from many women. To the others those sounds didn’t seem to say anything... those sighs... In early July I returned to Ceresole and... after eating alone in a restaurant while at the next table a large family was laughing and joking, I went out and burst into tears and for a moment I was about to throw myself down a rocky path... I recorded those thirty seconds of desperate cry with my phone...
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went home and told me that the next weekend or in short as soon as possible I would be back there to get it finally over.

And... at some point something clicked inside my mind: I told myself that I had cried enough and it was not that I could spend my days like that. And that I was to do what I wanted to do since ever...
It wouldn’t then work out exactly as I had imagined... but it was a necessary step.

Thus, although many believed that I was really off to throw myself into some crevasse, I actually got dressed and put my makeup on and returned to Ceresole, but this time wearing a summer dress... and it was the first time I went that far in those clothes. It was a wonderful day: photos, landscapes, bare feet into the grass...
And Summertime sadness by Lana del Rey (remixed) accompanied me blaring in that tunnel... and I was happy: it had to be a song about suicide, as I had read in the comments, and instead it had changed meaning. Kiss me hard before you go / summertime sadness / I just wanted you to know that, baby, you're the best... maybe she was Daniela, yes, but I now no longer cared. About those kisses.

In late August I went to meet the doctors in order to finally start the path to change sex: I was… thirty years late,. but before I simply could not. Without the latest tricks... I would’ve never been convinced.
And I began to tell my friends: let's call it outing or... let's call it going to say that carnival was not just carnival.
The results were, more or less unexpectedly, quite sad, as I always told later: from about forty people who I regularly met... a quarter of them disappeared or simply showed themselves disgusted, a half more or less decided to bear this big joke, and only two or three gave me support. And... well, this is not the place to go into details... but the explanations they provided were curious: the disgusted ones were disgusted... by sex issues (which shouldn’t even concern them) while the intermediate insisted with you just have to find the right person. So, from all those years of my despair, I wonder what they had understood.
Well, it was beginning to be quite clear - what was inside people’s head. But it would take some more little time...
Oh, and don’t forget you are too strong / too bright / too brave to be a woman. Yeah... especially when said by women (!!!)

I remember that month of September with a... sweetness that finally I felt my own, I felt I could express: showing pictures without fear, going maybe sometimes (even if with many fears) to the home of a couple of friends in my right clothes... And at home I listened to San Francisco by Foxygen and... smiled: hormones, still caught a bit on the sly... they made me feel good. And Formaldehyde by Editors, who had followed A ton of love... I liked it a lot and also hummed, dressed in my car. And ditto for Reflektor by Arcade Fire.

I began those visits and more or less they confirmed to me that everything could be completed in two years, so I was late but... at least now I had begun. And I remember with a smile the first nice phrase that I heard from the psychologist: attraction and sexual identity are two very different things.
At least this point had been set: the point which had always held me back.

There were the Arctic Monkeys and, once more, I realized that the old wouldn’t listen to anything new: so when I still felt a bit lost... I was thinking about this detail and... I put my soul to rest. Indeed Do I wanna know and Snap out of it were almost unknown... yet they were beautiful!

Andreotti died during those months (always too late, you could comment on it), and even Margaret Thatcher.
Oh, and Snowden, and the massacre in Boston...
Merkel wins, and even the Democratic Party in Italy.

In those months I opened a facebook account as a woman - or girl, with a little effort (!) and began using it to practice...
About it all, almost: chats, tips, pictures... And, yes, it was all right to me, apart from courtship... or some scoundrel who came to ask you if you were a real woman (!!)
But all in all, it wasn’t bad. I had a new kitten, since summer: a white Persian treasure, with whom I had already done a bunch of photos, and it was fantastic! And finally, after more practice, I began to see me pretty...
Which thing, of course, almost no one understood. My outing went on... as well as my visits to the various doctors: in short, it seemed a sure path. Of course, from there to being not alone, or better, to find intelligent people... there would still be a long way to go... (!)

I was singing I need your love by Ellie Goulding stressing that in another life I would have liked to be born like her! Because I liked a bit all of her songs, in those months.
And then there was Instant crush, still by Daft Punk (here with Julien Casablancas); and also the great and intelligent Giorgio by Moroder, and Lose yourself to dance. And Sirens by Pearl Jam.
And Thank you very much by Margaret, nice and feminine. And Moya with Come and get it, ditto. Or Dispari by Marta sui tubi or Il genio (obviously self-dedicated, despite Fabrizio and others...) by Marlene Kuntz - two groups of which I was never too fond... but in this case they were two good songs.
Reload by Ingrosso was fantastic... to dance at home, but now I had started to do it again, from time to time. And New town velocity by Johnny Marr was remarkable. And then there was DNA by Empire of the sun, very beautiful again (although again rather sad) and Il sale della Terra by Ligabue, and Let her go by Passengers, which finally I was able to devote with detachment to my ex’s or almost.

In early December I went for a ride at my friends’ in the Marche where I had been two years earlier and... I brought with me a double wardrobe, because I was going to try and go around in the right clothes: and it was a bit of a mess... but I managed it! And for the first time I went into a restaurant, and a bar... and I liked it. And, apart from some human case, all and everyone accepted me in those shoes: or better in both, since they had already known me before.
Ghost gunfighters by As animals and Grazie Johnny by Patti Chiari are the two songs... curious, which remind me of that trip: as I wrote to Nicola, I was a woman from quite a little time, and I already hated all of those bags! But I was actually joking, especially because I had to take a double luggage.
Yeah... not unexpectedly, Nicola was one of those who had taken my outing at best - and only in small part I thought it was due to the hypocrisy of his famous being everyone's friend. It was quite logical that, since he used to be undoubtedly a sensitive person, he could understand me: since the days from Careless whisper... although with some differences. And curiously, I was to make me rather more problems because... the name I had chosen was one that had been famous for him; but that person wasn’t at all connected to my story, I knew for sure, and I had that set out immediately.

Per sempre by Ligabue... thankfully, no longer concerning me: beautiful pictures, beautiful words... but quiet: cosa sarà mai portarti dentro solo tutto il tempo… per sempre, solo per sempre, c’è un istante che rimane lì piantato eternamente…
Somehow I felt that I was no longer to feel any kind of emotion: I would’ve settled my body as it always had to be... and I would be left alone. Forever, in fact.
Also Scream my name by Magic box, it wasn’t bad. And Without you by Y'akoto, very sweet.

Thanks to a friend’s wife, I got in touch with two girls who wanted to change... like me. That is, in the opposite way. And we met in early December... when those sharp operators from the pitchforks movement (other Italic rubbish) were blocking the roads and I went downtown for the first time dressed... and, in short, some very interesting chats would result in order to understand me better. And even some foolness, as it was logical.

New Year’s Eve was organized with them and other people, and I would’ve gone in my shoes, wearing a dress recently bought and which was really beautiful and original! And so I was pretty pleased... some other dinner, some other chat... here's aunt Cinzia... but I was always alone. And at Christmas I was in my car, again lost on a mountain, to make me photos of my maked-up eyes full of tears...
I was, and I was going to always be the Black Swan like in the movie with Natalie Portman, as I told the psychologist one day, after having finally watched the movie (which thad always intimidated me): the one who saw things, who hated herself, who was also a bit crazy...

But we still remember with a laugh, the black guy who went around hitting people in Milano with a pickaxe (!) and especially that video I devoted to berlusca after his victory in February... saying so many little nice things: and a guy recognized me in a pizzeria and he complimented me... and it was fun!


Oh, Il mio amico Arnold by Fabri Fibra belongs to this year and I have discovered it only in 2017: fantastic and intelligent as ever - and then Arnold (Gary Coleman)... another very bad joke (as we said) by the one over there...

Summertime sadness, Lana del Rey

Formaldehyde, Editors

Up in the air, 30 seconds to Mars

 2014

New year’s Eve wearing a beautiful dress wasn’t much: I tried to ignore it for some days, because now I had two friends male/female (how difficult it was and is using double pronouns in these years... how annoying!) but then, as the days went by, it became obvious to me. In the photos I was pretty gross, which was (still) quite logical. The place had been an unlikely crappy cafè. Talking to people we met on that night... it always left a strange aftertaste: were they women or men... as it was logical, something was never quite right; but my dress, stockings, heels and being able at last to speak about my age-old problem with a fair amount of freedom... it wasn’t bad.
Thanks to an admirer  met on facebook, I listened to Sail by Awolnation and it looked brilliant to me!

We kept on going out together, me Marian and Giorgia: there were ten and twenty years between us... but as always, in many ways, I was the most beautiful woman (!) or at least the most beautiful person: especially against Marian, the older, because Giorgia (then called for Gio... opening a door towards her future sexuality) had a pretty face. And two beautiful breasts - but at that moment it didn’t matter, and indeed we joked upon that!
Moreover, Gio was on average more positive and optimistic, while Marian was usually sad: over time (and not even much)... we would’ve gotten an idea of what mental delusions could run in this chap’s mind. Obviously skipping her origins (!!)

So, in fact, I had an opportunity to mention and then tell how I had always felt... clothes, emotions, thoughts... and the absurdity of having sex in one body and wishing to be in the other: both of them (already lesbians, then somehow a bit further from my situation) had always felt just like me and... not only, for the first time, I could talk about the real me, but above all I could hear the equivalent experiences of biological women (another adorable definition...)
Walk, walking: Valentino park, a brewery, a Chinese restaurant... clothes, makeup, t-shirts... I felt good when I was out with them! And other friends... those who had expressed support or at least not opposed... sometimes I met them too, with different clothing depending on situations.
Of course, not everything was always pink and flowers. Go gentle by Robbie Williams reminds me of some sad chats with Marian, some dark days; and The monster by Eminem with Rihanna... hurt me because of the idea that we would’ve been monsters, in any case: in fact I had seen pictures of Marian coiffed like a girl, and she was obviously more credible - and cute - than as a male. And the same would have been told about me...

In late January, I was crying. And one day it came a strange letter... that I kept aside for a few days. I was convinced it had to do with denouncing the crappy italish disgust on youtube, that is Berlusconi... But I had other fish to fry.

My fantasies were decreasing. Talking with Gio and Marian helped and maybe even for hormones or simply the view of a future finally set straight...
I even began to have some mood changes...: and I never knew if it depended on hormones or just on... fear. When I went to buy a female ski suit, in those weeks, the chick from the store asked me a few questions too, and I went out and began to cry...


The stock market continued to rise and, when we went to eat a pizza together, me and Nicola... me wearing my beautiful red dress with flounces... we joked that it had returned to three years earlier. It was beautiful: as he looked at me when, a bit hesitant, I opened the door, then the pizza... not being able to avoid joking with the waiter in a pizzeria I had known for decades saying it was just carnival... and that joke on you stay there so I approach with my car, so you don’t end up with heels in the mud...
I adored him. And, even if it had no sense if not for our old friendship, I wrote in my diary that if he had taken my hand and kissed... I would have liked it.
Tu sei lei, from Ligabue, yep - was dedicated to me, at last!

As they say (and I said as well), sometimes we are undecided about making a choice that is absolutely necessary for our own good: thus, it happens some disruptive event and...
Thanks to this event, in fact, I learned German - exactly twenty years late...
In mid-February finally I went to pick up the famous letter at the post office... Oh well, of course, the details are available in private (!!!) but, anyway, I found myself convicted done and over (and final) because of a fraud committed on internet... thanks to an identity theft: which I had reported one year earlier and which, apparently, no one had cared about.
I began to swear in several languages, and then embarked on a long tour with lawyers, courts, postal police, other police... only to be bounced: it’s like that, what do you want to do...
Some friends told me this is absurd. Others never seemed to understand what had happened, because I already had other problems and always spoke so much... (!)
It was sunny in the square of the village which will soon disappear (!!!), on the day I read the letter: and I had Untouchable by Nick Howard over my head, very beautiful!


And S. Jimmy Zoo festival in that year was again very high level: Diglielo Popi, E’ tutto okay, A Chieti a Chieti... exceptional, musically good and with lyrics to roll on the floor laughing! And also the friend from Ancona who came and visit me for three days at the end of March - and led me around in my shoes, as she had done in December - she also appreciated those pearls. Then there were Milky Chance with Stolen dance or Invisible by U2, heavy as it was the usual thing but with that title added. And then Stromae with Formidable and Tous les memes that appealed greatly to that other chick in the 2007-2008 group: they came to dine with me for my birthday, she and her partner, and... again, the photos didn’t go very well. And then also Life is sweet and L’amore non esiste, unfortunately very heavy (another chick used to like them, that Federica who had agreed to see me in my shoes after a few delirious and... in hindsight everything fits): the trio Fabi-Gazzè-Silvestri unfortunately was losing in freshness and earning in sadness with respect to the original Niccolò. Or maybe, as we know, he was in a condition a bit so...

Russia invaded Crimea, just to make some mess. And at the same time there had been the Winter Olympic Games in Sochi... with a dangerous (or savory, depending on your point of view) taste of 1980 and the Cold War...
The psychological visits continued, along with other tests: which, for a person who had never actually seen a doctor in the latest thirty years... it was unusual. But I was there, I was doing my queues and I agreed to talk about why I did those exams... picking up (almost) even some solidarity. Apart from the semen analysis: I had thought about it, with the idea of freezing my semen in case that in the future... but that ritual was tragic. Or tragicomic: the closet, porn magazines, the small bottle... so much for me who were dreaming of skirts, bras and pads, always.
I walked out of that hospital with the certainty of having seen my future fading, namely the fact that I would’ve never had children.
I cried, and cried again. I bought some other outfit and tried not to think about it - the plan was still standing and of course I had no hesitation.
The Perturbazione, rising star of that year's Sanremo Festival, accompanied us during those months: Gio and I went to a couple of their concerts, one with free entrance and one thanks to the tickets I had won on the radio. That Erika tu eri l’unica was so brilliant - and thankfully reminded me of my pseudo-ex 2008 only to some little extent... (!!!)
Oh, and then there was Lorde, first with Royals, then with Tennis court (fantastic final sentence we look so pretty in the pictures) and therefore also with Team (we're on each other's team). And Eez-eh by Kasabian, always good. And then the Rather be by Clean Bandit with Jess Glynne who I adored greatly, and within a few months they would have resulted in Real love - perfect love song, which of course has earned a place (thanks to a tasty anachronism, the only one) in Mele a metà!

But, first, there would be other events. Marian had gone insane rolling back words she had said and promises she had made, just before Carnival: Gio was on my side, because the mad Puglia gal had also raved against her... and so we laughed together! "I belong to the finer things" had written, this brain-damaged and stoned minger (!!) So we continued to meet, to talk about the visits, the future and the things we had always kept inside: and for her it was a relatively new thing, to compare herself to a biological man (!) who wanted to change sex.
She was passionate (later you’d have said stuck on) with Noemi, and she knew not only the recent Bagnati dal sole but also a bit of her entire discography. And then, curious coincidence, well set also with those Yavanna that four years before the monster from Milano (!) and her friend had me meet at a concert: and so we started following them, often... and they were pretty, devoted to a type of undoubtedly original music. A little medieval-like, a little quasi-Accappella covers of famous songs (I remember Bjork’s Army of me)...
In short, it wasn’t bad: when, months later, Gio would complain that my playlists in my car were all the same... I would have thought the same old thing. That is to say, that people usually rave and don’t even realize what they says or do...

More dinners, more pizzas. More tears, like when the doctors told me that according to them I was no girl and that I should devote myself to some psychological care for my loneliness... Maybe it had helped me mentioning the particular way I felt time and the absurd stories that I had lived – especially after 1994.
In retrospect now, I can almost think that, in a sense, they were right: that is, if people are shit, it’s not my fault nor my chromosome (!!)
But in that moment... I came to think that I wanted to die. That I'd had enough: of being sad, lonely as a man or a woman and... everything. Gio was there, gave me little kisses and wiped my tears... but it wasn’t enough. Hold on to me, as they said the Placebo.

And one day, after listening to yet another mockery from lawyers and the like in relation to that story above, and expressing some strong words and swearing on the usual horrendous site... some shitty police came to my home and took me with them (!)
And, in fact, it was again May 21st and... it couldn’t be a coincidence. Considering that the letter had arrived on January 22nd (!!), and the rest... I'll tell you in a little (!!!)

So I lived two weeks among... human wrecks (not those hospitalized, but I mean the self-styled doctors) and realized a number of things. I feel like shit for a while: then listen a few times to their theories about you’re mad at everyone because you want a sex change and so... I say "but go to hell, you shit!"
It was almost enough (I emphasize almost) that all the filthy human beings I had encountered in my life were to automatically feel superior to me just because they were proud of their genitals – while me not: they did suck but... they were convinced.
So enough. I decided that I'd finally move away from shitcountry - and that I would’ve cared about the gender issue later.
Your wish, by Talisco, cute; and then also L’ovvio by Frankie Hi-Nrg, very well studied (as always). And then Let the night from Dirty Vegas and Stardust from Mika together with Chiara.

A trip at the home of the famous two friends in Cuneo... and discovering that the famous Massimiliano was actually disgusted by my look and above all he blamed me for what happened with the forces of disorder. A dinner at the Chinese restaurant on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of Tiananmen, and me giving Gio a photo of the famous boy in front of the tank and tell her to hide it inside a menu (!!!!)
I choose a destination: England, Germany... I decide to go for a ride in Austria, to begin with: at Gio’s questions (I am not talking to anyone else about my decision, as more or less everybody share the line he’s crazy because he hates his body) about my goal I answer any home past the border will fit - and she laughs heartily. Her cripple friend, the toxic and deficient lazy, is not available to bring food to our cats for a couple of days and so... we leave with the cats in tow!
And it's funny: Addicted to you by Avicii and then The chamber by Lenny Kravitz and Waves by Mr. Probs remind me of that trip, and also of when that pig sardinian lawyer who was supposed to fix things comes and tells me that it is just like that, he too (and adds some other nonsense).
So Prayer in C, Robin Schultz. Heard for the first time on a mid-mountain road in Germany... and adored: and immediately it became my mantra against all evil ones: that is, I pray and you die (!)
Even today I listen to it when I want to make myself strong! Don’t think I could forgive you...

I returned to those places more or less once a month, joining some visits at the famous cousins in Bolzano and, after the third time, I began to get an idea of the places, the cost and feasibility of a transfer. It’s curious because I would never have thought it was possible: it was a common talk, like everyone did, in lurid shitcountry... but after seeing those who were to enforce the law... not giving a fuck and treating you like that, now it had to be done. And after all, in fact, it was a journey that had begun with the famous socialists from the 80s, continued with Berlusconi, with parasites public workers... and the various mafias. In addition to ethics in the shoes of a little everyone, over there.
Logico #1 by Cesare Cremonini was again pretty, and Maps (or maybe it was Animals?) from Maroon 5 always a little repetitive (exactly!) but it reminds me of Gio and her new girlfriend, whom she had known at the time in which we were a bit far from each other; Scrivimi quello che fai by the continously fantastic Velvet with Fabrizio Bosso just reminds me of my search for a house, a bank and... for the first time after some of months, without her: Roma era più bella con te... (her origins were in Rome and she used to tell things to panic about on its outskirts) and me checking the Stock exchanges every two minutes (!) and then Meanwhile, up in heaven by Kaiser Chiefs on which I sang they're waiting for you and devoted it to all the nice little people from those months (!)
I had in fact begun to regularly comb through the local newspapers from the places where lived people who had hurt me... and every time there was a dead man I was celebrating! And I still do today... and it’s so pleasant... (!!) think for example to the mayor's mother from that little town...
And then there was the cute No rest for the wicked again by Lykke Li, who made me think (as a follow up to I follow rivers) about if I were the damned who would never find peace. But not in that moment, when I had a dream to be realized.

Ah, I forgot, I attended the gay pride, that summer. For the first time in my life and... as I had imagined, I had nothing to do with with them: in fact I went there bourgeois, as I liked to call myself me when I was dressed as a male and... exactly, going with the dress that I wished wouldn’t have had the slightest sense. Lost in the midst of fagots, exaggerated transvestite and various other idiocies.
It wasn’t another carnival I was looking for: I was looking for a real life... even though at that carnival dressed as Tinkerbell few months earlier I had made quite great and appreciated!

And so, She moves by Alle Farben (another German DJ): it was me who was moving, in fact! And then Let me down easy by Paolo Nutini and Angel in blue jeans by Train, and even Easy money by Johnny Marr and Earth is the loneliest planet from Morrissey.
And of course the aforementioned Real love!

Renzi had taken the presidency of the council for a while and I liked that: although now I didn’t care at all... I used to believe that a person vaguely decent was a welcome change.
I was much more interested in Germany winning the World Cup, and when they pulverized Brazil we were in Innsbruck with Gio and... we laughed a lot!
Oh, and meanwhile we started to hear about Isis and Ebola. Why not? (!!)
And then Robin Williams had died, and this was a shame.

I was shot a wonderful picture on a bench, one day in September: that bubble skirt, white and pink T-shirt, a nice smile... I still love that picture today.
And I met a guy, again on the ugly site, a few months before. Toro’s fan, funny, smart enough (in the sense that he didn’t write nonsense...) and at one point he asked me to meet. But I couldn’t do that: not so much for the idea of dating a man (on which I was still pondering...) but because I was too embarrassed. Especially I didn’t know how to explain my situation. But then he insisted, I still denied it, and when he got angry because I was acting... I decided that for sure I wasn’t that kind of woman, or person. So I mentioned him about me, and he said that I looked like a nice person and that he didn’t care about anything else.
Then a pleasant friendship began and I had another person who could support me in that changes phase - not those that I would’ve imagined... but, for now, others, more important!
I remember that day with a dress... maybe already too short and the shoes with a small heel. And the walk, my terror which slowly passed... also thanks to his "I can imagine" comment to my stories, then the pizzeria in the valley and the fact that in the end he didn’t pay for me - which however, I was convinced, he would’ve done had I been a real woman (!)
But it wasn’t important. On the way back I mentioned to him about what had happened with the idiot from the scam and all of that... and he seemed to understand, even better than other old friends.

We continued to keep in touch here and there and to meet. "Today you’ll see me... in other shoes", I said when we had arranged to have a beer and I had had no time to prepare myself. And he would then comment I saw you in both looks and to me you look like a good person, no matter what.
So, I began to love him. No, just kidding  Carlo was relatively old and a little run down and then, of course, realistically I didn’t like men: though there were many talks, strolls, until we got to that trip in November when I signed for the new house and he came with me because he wanted to leave Italy too for business issues. He, who by the way had lived in Ireland - and, interestingly, had had a bad time in there.
When the beat drops out by Marlon Roudette is the song that brings me back to him: with you, I found a new way to live / I see an alternative...
I smiled, thinking that I could really, maybe over time, be his girlfriend: but, in all cases, those words were really nice, including when the lights go out / and the morning comes / will you still be there? And I just wanna know that feeling's in your heart...
It was a nice trip: he obviously (!) was more for the music from ‘70 and ‘80 and so we had some long talks, meeting us at the rock of Led Zeppelin and Joy Division, the progressive... even Ultravox... I used to show him my thought that the sounds from certain songs were just too old for me to appreciate them, like early Beatles or the Rolling Stones, and at one point he understood the concept and agreed with me.
And then I had him listening a bit of my stuff (!) like Cost is clear by Skrillex, about which he commented that it wasn’t that bad. And of course we agreed on more communistic themes such as China Town by Caparezza. And then there was Blame by Calvin Harris with John Newman, who was posing all the sadness of that song of the year before, and Counting stars by One Republic (which in fact had been around a while throughout the year) that I loved so much for its energy!
And then, again, I made him listen to City boy and Crazy something normal by Donkeyboy, to whom I had been introduced me by the same friend from the old A-ha group. And My type by Saint Motel, again so tied to those months. And then there were also The party line of Belle & Sebastian and the simple We are beautiful by Panzer Flower, and even Fade out lines by DJ Avener.

And, that night in the hostel, we started that conversation that... as I have defined in the coming months, was more meaningful than seven months of psychologists (from my dick, ed  ) and chats with childhood friends (from my dick/2 !!): we went out for dinner, then walked for a long time... it wasn’t cold... and at one point he made it clear to me the only question that remained after having opened myself for a year and given answers about the crazy situations that I had lived for twenty years...
"I never talked about my problem, either with friends or with my girls... but I'm sure something was to be perceived, otherwise it couldn’t be explained..."
"Well, you know, women have their sixth sense" he commented, and I smiled answering "fair! In fact, I have it too!" and then went on,"so it is likely to seize even your smallest hints... gestures, jokes about a piece of clothing... generic comments more female-ish than male standards..."
"If you’d been gay, or if you had told about how you felt from the very beginning, it might have been better: instead, this way they were helpless... and began to behave, as you say, like mad... because they couldn’t understand a thing!"
Fantastic. No, I'm serious!

So, it stayed as the soundtrack A million little pieces by Placebo, which contained among the other things that "I'm leaving this worried town" that I dedicated to the horrendous shitcountry. And it was beautiful, sweet, perfect as a bit all of their production: that CD was one of the first purchases that I did as I arrived in my new homeland.
And We exist by Arcade Fire was still dedicated to the places where I had lived for years: because now it had started a war that I was going to win, and so I imagined all those "good persons" who were down on their knees begging and praying me that I don’t exist, but instead I did exist. And consider that I didn’t even know that the real theme addressed by that song was homosexuality... nothing ever by chance, I know very well!
To strenghten the concept, I inserted into one of those playlist also the legendary Intimacy by Lynn Van Hek from the soundtrack of the film Terminator... (!) whose Jajajaja I usually sang over like Diediediedie (!!)

One last pizza with Nicola - me in the right clothes and in the pizzeria where we had been dozens of times and which now I know I can deal with - and he asks me, "if this is goodbye" and I say that it probably is, but not my fault.

And so we come to the day of the move. A ride with a big van and the friend who helped me move almost everything I had: Matteo, whom I worked with for the past twelve or more years, and then finally the final departure - with my trusty little car and my Persian cat!
On that day, or rather that night I had in mind Hozier’s Take me to church all the time... and it struck me as curious: but it reminds me of that fridge heavy on the stairs and then fix everything in the van and then go...
Forever. Obviously. Or rather, as I have always said, promising to return when just a slight memory will have remained from the Italians... (!!!!!)

At year end, I was listening to Begin the end (whose videoclip with the sad crossdresser I’d have discovered only much later…) from the CD Loud like love Placebo in my new living room and... I was happy! I had it done, a little late and with a little suffering... but now it was all right! I expected that Carlo would pay me a visit, as he had hinted, so that he could too think about a transfer. Of course I couldn’t imagine (or perhaps, in this case, a little yes) that the guy from Blasphemous rumours had targeted him as well...

Special mention, in that autumn, for the return of the three mutineers in 105 Zoo! It was beautiful, they gained something (and we all gained too): but, as I said, with forgiveness coming after the apology, and heads bowed.
And for Sarah Connor (singer), of which I saw posters on the street and smiled... (!)

Prayer in C, Robin Schultz

A million little pieces, Placebo

When the beat drops out, Marlon Roudette

 2015

It wasn’t Firework, as in 2011, but the giant screen in the square and the background music almost gave similar feelings. And the language was even higher (!)
The starry sky, my lawn... beautiful vibrations. That idea of me shooting pictures outdoor wearing my wedding dress... (!!)

The first thing I noticed, in those early months, was the desire to record again a whole lot of songs! Like many years before.
Record in a broad sense, of course. Perhaps, or even for sure, it was due to a sense of rebirth... to seeing certain little details, like photos of past mayors exposed in public offices – quite different from itagly...

One day by Bakermat was immediately a great omen: that sample of Martin Luther King in "I have a dream / one day" was perfect to... fix those who had hurt me - but not only. And Centuries by Fall out boy, the same: "you'll remember me for centuries..." and then also Netzwerk (falls like rain) by Klangkarussell "if your eye's on the ground, you only see the stars when they fall like rain"
I used to listen to them on my way home in my car and smiled. Instead, inside my house, I enjoyed the river view while listening Down by the river from Milky Chance; tender winter atmosphere, somehow similar to that mountain from exactly thirty years before, like Losing from Becky Hill or The hanging tree by James Newton Howard together with actress Jennifer Lawrence from The Hunger Games, or even Habits by Tove Lo (you're gone and I gotta stay high / all the time, to keep you off my mind) and Leya by Thorsteinn Einarsson "your dreams are bigger than your broken heart" and Firestone from Kygo and I am oak by On trees and birds and fire. And then some things from another language as Auf uns by Andreas Bourani or newfound Out of the Dark by Falco or Au revoir by Mark Foster with Sido, whose beginning featuring the chick’s shouting and complaining stumped me back - smiling – at the mad one from 2004-2005. Ah, no, sorry: she wasn’t mad, but it was me to cause her an imbalance, unintentionally... (!!)
I went to the Spa, in late January, and the score for that day was Fritz Kalkbrenner’s Back home: waves, again (this song recalls Waves), but cleared by the lousy from one year before.
And then, when the days grew longer, Mina’s Troppa luce turned out being a nice forethought: most of the houses didn’t have either shutters or jealousy... and from the window it really came too much light!

I dreamed of doing a video like Torn from Nathalie Imbruglia, as I arrived in my new house: and so I spent a bit of time... showing household activities and views of my house and, well... it wasn’t too bad.

Discover the small differences in everyday objects, at the times, in people’s habits... There were so many new shops and... if recently I had made no problem even in Italy in buying the things I liked, now here I felt completely free! So I bought a fantastic strawberry costume and started to shoot some great pictures of me on that big balcony, in the light of the first spring sun: and of course I sent one to the conspiracies idiot, who had precisely dressed like in that carnival many years before, adding that that costume was better over me!
And... wandering through the streets of the city, I found posters related to a carnival party: perfect, I thought... except that queer party against which I still felt... a bit of friction. I wasn’t Queer, I didn’t want to be one. Anyway I braced myself and went there and... well, it wasn’t bad - including one brief chat with a girl who complimented me for the costume and offered me a drink (!)

That disco played a lot of beautiful music, at least for the first few months: I remember Outside by Calvin Harris with Ellie Goulding and I'm an Albatraoz by AronChupa, with that powerful energy (and she was a witch)! But, above all, it began Robin Schulz’s line who, throughout the year and beyond, I enjoyed with one better song after the other! From The sun goes down (along with Jennifer Hudson) via Willst du with Alligatoah and then Headlights, Sugar (with Francesco Yates), the beautiful Show me love featuring Judge and finally Heatwave. And I discover only now that also Real love and Waves were remixes of his... and in fact you can feel his magic touch!
Really, trivial lyrics but actually not; the sounds so perfect, clean... dance meeting pop at a level that I found... and I find sublime. And there's a blanket on the sofa, which I used to keep you warm...

And while I was doing some trips, on Sunday afternoon, I rediscovered a few other songs from the legendary program Popcorner: including Come to me baby (don’t be shy) from Feel so classic, curious and pleasant in that retro style of its which normally I would’ve hated; and ditto for Words Otis sang by Andy Lewis with Jess Roberts or Breakaway by the Frank Popp Ensemble or even with Don’t wait by Mapei and that "if it wasn’t for you I'd be alone, on my own / I dream of you in my deepest dream, unfortunately".
We continued to exchange emails, with Carlo. I used to describe him how I was finally breathing clean air - in all senses - and he was still looking for a job... Then he found something to do and his idea to come and visit me was shelved: I would have gone to him in April to fulfill one of the latest troubles I had been left by the Italian filthy - especially the southerners neighbors.

Documents, public offices without parasites, the internet connection, the new plates... everything was perfect that is, functioning without panic-fear (cit.; panico-paura ndt)
And so we get to my birthday. I found a gay/lesbian etc. association and so I tried to contact them... just to see if the environment will look like Italic fags or a little better (!) but I wasn’t able to catch the right times: so I decide that I will make the experiment on that day... I prepare myself a little well, I do the usual nice pictures and then I go...
And no, the atmosphere is nice: the mere fact that there is a place (a public establishment) saying on its showcase LGBT Association etc.etc.... and that no one is setting fire to it after a couple of days (!!) is a big step forward. Yes, of course, before emigrating I had never even had the courage or desire to go and look for similar associations: But... now that the moment is ripe, I feel comfortable. That is, enough: there is some human case (!) and there will always be... But, now, considering myself a human case as far as sex is concerned I don’t mind anymore.
I get to know a few people, I share some words, I drink a few beers, I make some hit (!!)
In hindsight, even in those shoes... I realize that I only attracted lames from both sexes. Not only that, I then realized that the lames, especially mental lames, infest the entire planet (!!!)

I start visiting them every week, and it's great: sometimes in the right clothes, sometimes in plain clothes... after a month, I realize that one chick seems to be hanging on my every word ((ndt: labia) no pun intended!) and so we begin to meet between ourselves. Again, even on this occasion, for me they were more important the eyes, her smile, the speeches... than the physical aspect which, after some time, I found obviously horrible. But it didn’t matter and thinking of others, probably more handsome or beautiful and sometimes maybe even more brilliant than Nadja... I confirm today that they weren’t equally interesting or attractive.

I begin to go skiing in these new places... atmosfere is filled of a new life a new beginning and in my car I listen to the fantastic and fresh King by Years and years: the slopes are now much closer to home and so I can even decide on the very morning; and noticing the subtle differences with the Italians or French systems is... curious! In some ways, I find myself thinking about the 1995 New Year’s Eve, and the idea (that I had pushed for a while) of going to Trentino Alto-adige... well, just to add a little of talk suitable for Irene 
Who, of course, pops up from more or less every corner: the language, which I will find harder to learn than I had planned, I like it and... it inspires me, as always. And sometimes I think of my dad (my cousins, no, they felt like they were italian...) or, usually, when I think about the pronunciation of a word... I hear Irene’s voice pronouncing it.
It isn’t difficult (!!)

Sure, sometimes I am still sad: Castle in the snow by Kadebostany is very beautiful but the words I don’t know what to do / I should be done in the place / But I gotta stay, stay stay / Stay stay stay stay / I'm so lonely... talk to me about certain moments... Nadja looks at me and asks why I look sad, then she gives me a kiss and says sure, your life is really complicated (and she was just referring to sex!); Carlo writes to me you haven’t yet made the decision to do that thing you’ve been dreaming of doing for all of your life... and I say he’s right.
And, of course, there are annoying songs, for example Meghan Trainor who has practically made none right (and Lombroso, as well as a dietician, might explain better why) but in those months she was on all radio stations; or Ed Sheeran which to me seemed so pathetically wink... to melt vaginas (cit.) with his Photograph (barely acceptable) and Thinking of you.
But, no, most of the music was beautiful! Even mundane things like Cool kids by Echosmith or Ex's and Oh's by Elle King ("my ex always wanna come but they never wanna leave!") or Faded by Zhu, Ship to wreck by Florence and the machine, and the original 'Til it's gone by Yelawolf "I'm not the fucking needle in the haystack you found". And then Nek, who showed himself wonderful as usual in Sanremo with the beautiful Fatti avanti amore! And even Prima di parlare - in both cases excellent lyrics, as always.

I continue working with some Italian customers - those who pay the bills, as I hint at here. My fantasies are still frozen, and only in summer they’ll come back to mind some little exciting ideas. And the Germanwings plane crashes...

By chance I discovered the Eurovision Song Contest, in that month of May, and I loved it, getting a little back to Games Without Frontiers, the show from when we were kids, and talking about Europe... flags, competitions, games... the dream of cities to visit, a continent one day finally joined together...
That stuff, it all won’t last more than a couple of years more. Oh, sorry, I expressed a premonition (!!!)
And I also forgot to add thanks to you, subhumans (!!!!)
The ESC was a bit a Sanremo Festival on a large scale, and with proportionately amplified sets. The songs were all nice - some nice for my taste like that which went on to win, namely Heroes by the Swedish Måns Zelmerlöw, other special and much related to their country of origin. The fact that there was Conchita Wurst to lead seemed to be an umpteenth sympathetic coincidence tome... although, again, she had nothing to do with me (!)

And... speaking of coincidences, again 21st May brought an unfortunate fact. Luckily it would’ve been the last (!!)
Two things, actually. While I am in the usual place with those friendly guys and gals there... maybe I eat too many mixed sauces and faint in the bathroom! It is true that I had also donated my blood or better plasma that day, but...
Oh well. Then I come home and find out that someone took a radio I had temporarily put in my garden house I was (again) building...
Now, you have to step back. In fact, it wouldn’t be necessary, but... but it is, to frame a couple of things (!) that is that Soviets are more-more-shit than I had only thought. And again and again... some dickhead would have taken advantage of my problem...
The new neighbors were Lithuanians – they would then come out worse than the Calabrian! - and I had met them at the first sunny days: little talks, a woman who vaguely spoke English, cats... An invitation to Easter dinner, discovering the beauty of different cultures and unlikely but curious foods! Then... she seems to be all too sociable. I mention about me, and it’s here that she starts to rave about cures, Buddhism, and tells me of her loneliness and her man who treats her badly. At which I understand that I have no chance of getting normal neighbors and so I push myself a little apart.
A few days before, the (now) crazy (and certainly not my fault this time!) had complained about the barely audible music coming from my garden: and so, when the radio disappears, I write her thinking that she got it…
She denies it, or rather she doesn’t just deny: she becomes Woody Allen, to quote Sliding doors! So I understand the truth (but of course I was sure, it's not that we were living in Scampia and so...) and I tell her a couple of nice words. I denounce the event to the police, the insurance pays me a new radio. The beast doesn’t greet me anymore, merely limiting herself to (fucking) smiles when I see her in the garden, and so does her daughter or sister and her husband: making a quick 2+2, when I think back to the Buddha statue in her garden, to her being a vegetarian, to listening contemplative music during dinner... other raving, everything is clear. And I comment with a bestemmione (big curse, ndt) that is no longer confined to just Italy - but extends to the east. And, as will comment later Nadja, it confirms that you have problems with the south, and we with the East. And I add and think about Puglia 

However, summer comes. The place is of course a bit colder than Torino but still acceptable, also because when it's sunny it's all great! Riva (restart the game) from Klingande with Broken Back (...!) and then Shine on by Simply Red, Supergirl by Anna Naklab with Alle Farben (again self-dedicated!) And Somekindawonderful by Reverse and My love by Kovacs, and even Volke 4 by Marv & Philipp Dittberner - that made me learn that way of saying and reminds me of a night in the car with Nadja in the drizzle.
And then Shine by Years and years "it’s you I was waiting to find" - a phrase that took me back to many years before...
And Pressure off by Duran Duran, and me thinking about my beautiful cat who is waiting for me at home, and sometimes I take him on the river, on the beach. And the sweet Love is a temple by Mario Biondi. And Roma-Bangkok by Giusy Ferreri with Baby K... on the edge of discomfort, but certainly full of energy. And Fire under my feet by Leona Lewis and the fantastic The nights of from Avicii (ideal sequel to The days from just a few months before) with those beautiful words one day you’ll leave this world behind, so live a life you will remember / Don't forsake this life of yours / My father told me when I was just a child...
And then Setting sun again by Dirty Vegas, with that curious videoclip in which heads come out of the ass... so realistic, considering this planet (!!!) and Can’t feel my face by The Weeknd and Federico Bernocchi on Radio 2 who announces "here comes the song from of one who doesn’t feel his face" - and I burst out laughing, and I send him a message on facebook, of course as a female sender...
In the background, as always, U2 from Song for someone and Every breaking wave... nice, nothing special. Just as Adventure of a lifetime by Coldplay.
And yet Reality, by Lost Frequencies, quite nice. Everyday from A$Ap Rocky with a Rod Stewart feat, very well designed and reminding me of a mountain walk. Adore by Jasmine Thompson - sweet but which makes me feel bad... even in the right body, for some strange reason. Shots and Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, who will please me very much, from these first single!
Cold cold man yet by Saint Motel, C’è sempre una canzone by Ligabue, Are you with me yet by Lost Frequencies, Hold back the river from James Bay, the beautiful L’unica semplice (just like me!) by Andrea Nardinocchi – whose videoclip dedicated to Back to the future I only discover now... and it does make sense, considering that in that year we celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of that legendary movie. And the remarkable Miracle by Island Apollo, another track by Popcorner.

And so... as those first six months are gone, they begin some troubles. Between the Soviet above and the Greeks who are more rotten the Italians... the Stocks begin to crumble. And in August, thanks to sharp persons like the Chinese, it all falls down...
Indeed, Maroon 5 had anticipated it all, with This summer's gonna hurt like a motherfucker... and, like they say, never utter the famous last words, ‘cause they may turn real (cit.)
In early August I know a guy, of course in my boy’s role, with whom we begin to talk about work and a few other things. Again and again (and again) once again, this is another human case which sticks to me with praises and sharing many thoughts... only to prove out as useless shit (!)
And, as I mentioned, in my first meeting with him it corresponds to the collapse of the Chinese Stock Exchange: then, in early December, there will be one meeting a bit longer (full afternoon) and there will be another slump; when on January 4th the year after he’ll ask me to help him make an installation of a GPS device, the stock will start the biggest drop since 2008... which will last for the whole 2016 (!!!)
Oh well.

In fact, music from those months is already sounding different: 7 years by Lukas Graham became boring quite quickly, because its lyrics were too repetitive. Other very simple tracks, though catchy, like Baby love from Petite Meller and Lean on by Major Lazer. Then Negrita found no better than coming up with a song called 1989 (what the fuck!!) and then also L’Eutanasia del fine settimana and Il gioco - always good, of course.
Read all about it (p.3) by Emeli Sande wasn’t bad, and so Renegades by X Ambassadors; Dear life by Claptone ft. Jaw was cute too "dear life", and then I can change by Brandon Flowers (from Killers), with that great idea of inserting a sample of Smalltown boy. And Sasha’s Lucky day (the same from 1999, with a song originally out in 2007), auspicious: today's your lucky day...
The important thing is to believe in it, always (!)

Life is a fear from Editors, always optimistic (!) - very pretty. Cheyenne by Jason De Rulo, maybe one of the few of his songs that doesn’t give me nausea: it reminds me of another trip to a couple of neighboring villages. Back where I belong by Jack Savoretti, pretty. And Lost in the weekend by Cesare Cremonini, well made and original. And the nice Lieblingsmensch from Namika.
And then again Marlon Roudette with Everybody feeling something: and... Carlo, my friend, dies suddenly in early August! Now that I'm telling you, I realize that even this event happened a short time after knowing the guy above, Christian (!!!)
In any case, one of his friends (or maybe his ex-girlfriend) said that they had found him dead, like that, without a reason: had it been depression for that work issue... or else, you’ll never know. I was sorry and this thing hit me: another bad joke from that one up there... even if it was then also true that in those months Carlo had begun making accusations against the Germans worthy of the worst conspiracies... and so...
Oh well.

I keep meeting Nadja and the other from the famous club. I discover that the old-crappy... well, one that at the age of 67 years finally decides to change sex, with whom we met several times for shopping or even things at home... dies after me. Well, that’s quite satisfactory: why having one mussel only, when you can have two?!
In fact, this man/woman has been living with a biological woman for a long time, and she’ll eventually prove to be more sympathetic than him. In all cases, I try to become familiar with the language. and… figure out what to do: I had come here believing that I would’ve made that famous change as soon as possible, now that I was free from ties with the past... but instead now I was no longer so sure. For the usual reasons: fear of the future, doubt with whom to stay...
Don’t be so hard on yourself, says Jess Glynne, and I try to listen to her.

Even the usual nightclub, where we go more or less every month, worsens its level - eventually flowing into the usually pathetic 80ism (!) or in always playing just the usual five songs.
When there would be, say, Show me love by Sam Feldt (cover of a still nice track from 1993), or Major Lazer together to Ellie Goulding with Powerful. Or Beautiful now by Zedd and Runnin (lose it all) by Naughty Boy with Beyonce. And the sweet Book of love by Felix Jaehn with Polina.

In late August I take a kitten... another, to live together with mine: I’m looking for a female but, due to irony (or let's call it by its name: deficiency) from fate or rather from a chick in the usual circle of friends, it turns out to be a male. Cute, though, like all cats! For a change, here too he we will put his hand the usual guy pointed at by Dave Gahan and Martin Gore (!)...
In fact, How hard I try by Filous (featuring James Hersey) is a bit my refrain - and in fact Nadja dedicates me that song rather often. And I answer with Alive from Sia, which I find better than a few months earlier. And then there's Writing's on the wall by Sam Smith (from 007) soundtrack of the movie Spectre, and the nice New Americana by Halsey, and Gold by Andreya Triana which passes so often at the radios for that voice so like Aretha Franklin. And the wonderful Believe by Mumford & sons.

We go to the Oktoberfest, with Christian: after seventeen (!) years it’s always beautiful... and this time, between the traditional clothes that I've finally bought it and... a bit all, I tell myself that, yes, I really should. But then I try a shy outing with my famous cousins... and I get stupid answers and delusions, again: particularly from the one who lives in Milano area, which confirms that she is bigoted, stupid and conspiracy follower (!!) with her holistic medicine...

So, I go ahead. All you ever need is the single that Austrians Makemakes had brought to Eurovision, and it's not bad. Then there’s Avenir by Louane, and the nice Geiles Leben from Glasperlenspiel (posh lives  ) and Leichtes Gepaeck "you travel better with a light baggage" from Silbermond, groups that turns out to be quite popular in Germany and I like the idea of starting to understand something of these lyrics!
Also at this time I discover Wanda, with whom I fall in love almost immediately! Viennese origins, they make beautiful music with original melodies, such as Bussi Baby or Bologna (!). And I smile at the words of Nadja calling them fascists... people are strange. It is now clear (!): I think it all depends from the face of the singer, who actually looks a little like a dangerous Balkan Southerner (!!) however... as he sings, this is no problem. And I doubt that Nadja can say to know him better than me who saw him in three or four videoclips...

There happens the thirtieth anniversary of Back to the future, in late October! And so I go and watch it wearing the flowers pants I had envied to Jennifer for... thirty years, in fact, and I feel good! Enough, in short, and I like watching again the three films in foreign language, of course: and I think back to the old dream of time travel... and this gives me strength; and then I think about how much I believed in a life, in a pair of eyes, some love... in those years - and that makes me feel bad.
For how many consecutive years can a person cry? I read in my diary from those pages...
And, among the songs belonging to these months, I find Make tomorrow by Peter Gabriel (from 2000) which I didn’t know and... it has that title so important...

I'm also back to Vienna, seventeen years later - indeed an often celebrated Falco would often sing Vienna calling! And practically in the same days (but I did it on purpose) when Irene had gone eighteen years before. And I like it, as always: the weather is nice and I walk and walk and I take pictures myself - in all the wrong clothes, but ok - and in particular I reconstruct one picture from thirty years before in front of the statue of a philosopher... and I smile about the similarities. Apart from the meteorological climate.
Volevo te by Giusy Ferreri is somehow, in a corner, still turning to her.

Then, The hills by The Weeknd is original. Then there is Stressed out by Twenty one pilots (soon followed by Ride). Isis strikes in Paris, following the bombing at Charlie Hebdo editorial board in January. The Cassini spacecraft arrives at Pluto.
Oh, and Meghan Trainor sings her first decent song, thanks to Charlie Puth - Marvin Gaye!

As I come to know Christian better, I find in him the same behavior of so many, too many subhumans: indeed, from one who owns the same surname as Bombolo... you couldn’t expect anything different (!!): instability of desires and projects, senseless outbursts, mental reversals in a very short time... Dead inside, to put it with Muse.
He will help me too to understand the importance of shit: that is the importance that shit had in making me feel wrong in all my life... thanks to that trivial reason there.

So, Adele’s Hello is out on the radio with a hint of annoyance, and in two weeks it becomes the most annoying song I would say since at least twenty years! The glories from 21 are completely gone and... dunno, what can I say? Of course, everyone’s pushing it on the radios... but I wouldn’t want to repeat the concept (!!!!)

For Christmas I'm going to dance with my favorite skirt and... I feel good but could be better. Then for New Year's Eve, I join Christian in an evening filled with hard liquor at some friends’ home... and tell myself that's okay. Having loaded Discodildo by Immanuel Casto in my car... it’d have been a good omen.
I say, so to speak.


PS: a thought goes to Steve Strange of Visage, who passed away this year.

King, Years and years

Bologna, Wanda

Lost in the weekend, Cesare Cremonini

 2016

It isn’t that every leap year must always necessarily bring misfortune: and since it had already done that in both 2008 and 2012 (!) one wasn’t going to think that...
But, for some reason, since that first day of January, while making gasoline and purchasing the highway stamp again, I felt that something sounded bad...
In the end, that too would have served.

Of course, the signs of forthcoming disaster were very clear as soon as they began to die singers: David Bowie, Glenn Frey and Colin Vernancombe better known as Black over three weeks of January... and as we know, music is the structure of spacetime (cit.) so this was a bad omen. Yes, someone tried to comment well, but they begin to die a little all those of the rock generation, from drugs, excesses...
Obviously it wasn’t like that: in fact they died people having very different age and who had come to success in different historical moments.
Lazarus, by David Bowie, was of course what he had prepared to... take leave: and I think I’ve heard it very few times, because it really did taste... bleak: look up here, I'm in heaven / look up here, man, I’m in danger...

Working, the cold, my cat that seemed to have some problems with his legs... life as usual. Some other fantasies: we had watched The Danish girl, along with Nadja and... it was poignant: obvious, of course, because it was perhaps one of the very few times when a story so similar to mine was to be told. So much that the Sicilian Gabriella and even someone else (the few people to whom I still was in touch from my past) wrote to me saying that they had recognized some of my sentences.
Well, funny, no doubt.

I listened to Inner galactic lovers by Kutiman, nice and with a very special atmosphere and "from space"; and then Hotline bling by Drake, and Stimme by Elf and Lay it all on me by Rudimental with Ed Sheeran. And Jolene by The Hossboss ft. The Common, pretty. And of course Faded by Alan Walker with that where are you now? that in a very small percentage I would turn to Irene (or, in even smaller percentage, to Daniela).
The repetitive Feiah fonga by Austrian group Krautschädl was the soundtrack of those Stock markets that had begun to collapse earlier this month, as we said: and their descent continued at breakneck speed (so much that I had to coin constantly new curses!) to the point that some commentators wrote it’s not as severe as in 2008 - to understand the optimism that was sneaking (!!)
They didn’t know what awaited them during the rest of 2016.
And, of course, as we know it was all due to my mind - and to having let the jerk in my life: when I discovered later that Christian was born on the same day as me (a number of decades later, which caused me a lot laughter when I saw him take pads against stomach acid...) I had further confirmation that it was never by chance.
He wasn’t able to multitask: I don’t mean to say as a woman, but at least like my old friend Marco or some other; his level of ideals seemed to be like a little all italians, with downward spikes that... really - that thing about speed cameras (those who know my old video dedicated to them, know what I mean) was destructive for me. And when I heard him criticizing my way of working, in a manner completely out of place, a bit like it had happened with Marco years before, I decided it was better to lose him. Pay your debts and then die, as I was repeating to more or less anybody now (!!)
But more events would’ve happened, before.

We went to Dresden together for a weekend. And, after 26 years, the city was again harbinger of bad things: among others, mentioning that I had been there so many years before, or say my age to the two boys met in the hostel... it was never easy, because no one would believe me 
In hostel, yeah. On the second evening she appeared, evidently Romanian or so, evidently young, pretty, with whom I began to speak and it was nice... and there and then I had this feeling that she was born in 1995. To be precise, in August 1995: and, as I asked her, she confirmed 22 August.
I love reading minds (!)
And, in short, it could be a nice thing, but our snake oil salesman, the one who told me about the courses he was attending on youtube to conquer women... he took a hand: or rather got stuck to her... in that shisha bar (the German name for hookah, which for further curious coincidence brought me to the tragic moments from Tunisia) then started to put a hand on her thigh and I abandoned the group and went out.
It was the same old story, right? Yes, okay, she was Romanian, but... (!!!)
Damn this idiot. We said goodbye, the next day, without me saying anything - because, for a change, like twenty-one years before, I had lost and he won. At least that challenge, I mean.

And I went home. And I found my Persian cat dead!
World fell upon me (and we were only in late January): I started to cry and ran to buy more alcohol, under the cold sun. I couldn’t believe that: and when I realized that evidently he had become ill because of something that queers’ cat (as I defined the newcomer) had given him, I realized the umpteenth obscene kick by the one who laughs when we die. Yes, perhaps I'd underestimated his movements a little slowed in the past two months, but... I couldn’t believe that: it was almost always at home, always followed, it was gorgeous...
And besides, among other songs I had heard during that weekend, there was U gatt è murt by Leone di Lernia...

I touched no food for three days. Nadja, Lisa, Christian asked me what had happened... and I told them. Obviously no one cared about that - they had to fuck (!) and, basically, that was the only thing that mattered.
I cried and cursed, again and again.
Worry, Jack Garratt. Very worried. And then there were also Save me from Joan Thiele or the sympathetic remixed/sampled The girl is mine by Brandy with Destiny's Child.
I attended a carnival party, in my usual rally suit. Then I tried it on even in female fashion and... it looked better than all the other times, especially because at least I wasn’t to hear Christian and another friend who annoyed me with their (cit., mi arriminavano, ndt) conquering a woman is like selling a product and love comes later, and especially but you are the male and you have to take chances.
I had had enough of him and that all. So I decided to enroll in the gym (after thirteen years!) and above all to seriously begin the process of change...
And from that gym I remember my efforts not to grow too many muscles and my glancing at the girls’ look, and the exercises they did. And then, of course, my eyes on monitors and on the websites concerning economy...
The meltdown seemed to have stopped, by the end of February. Although Quali alibi by Daniele Silvestri, brilliant as always, raged against the Western world in a way all too conspiracist, and Jack Jaselli sang The end.
But there were also Home by Topic with Nico Santos, pretty, and Be the one from Dua Lipa, and No hero from Elisa and I took a pill in Ibiza by Mike Posner. And above all Sugar by Wild Kulture/Karmin: I can't think about anybody but you and... its videoclip with the girl coiffed like Little Red Riding Hood... sweet, cute...
Yes, I wanted to be like her, definitely.

In Sanremo we heard of a certain Gabbani with Amen, which seemed genuine but not particularly beautiful - it would then take another year! It was also pretty Frosinone by Calcutta, and so would be Oroscopo.
Weeping always like pouring - looking at the pretty girls, or the empty house, or perhaps undergoing the usual human infamous behavior (in this case two French men who asked me to do a job and then disappeared... at whom, appropriately, I sent a smile along with the link of the massacre on the Nice waterfront). Or my other cat, which for a while had disappeared, after I had found him at the side of the dead Persian in January: I realized that he had suffered a trauma... as I had, and in fact he changed his character abruptly, suddenly stopping to play. Sometimes I saw him linger around the place, not far away, where I had buried the other cat...
I miss my cat, my wife and my life I wrote. Yeah…
I recriminated on the shits from 1995 and those from 2016 - and all the others. And I thought it was my fault, again and again, because I had never been proud of my penis.

I started visiting this doctor: she was a general psychologist, although I had known her through Nadja, and so we moved on together to understand which were the steps involved, the things to analyze and timings. I talked about myself into another language and it wasn’t hard: I was speaking so much, you know, and she didn’t seem to regret - and not only because I was paying her! (not that much anyway)
Hundred miles by Yall with Gabriela Richardson was cute. Then I continued to hear more local artists such as Stereoact and Kerstin Ott, with Die immer lacht or Christina Sturmer’s Ich hör auf mein herz and even others. And Elly V with I'll be around (Bounce).
And then there were Stelartronic & Anduze with When I find my love (wait and hope...) and Chainsmokers with Don’t let me down (ft. Daya) and even This girl (me, indeed) by Kungs. All pretty songs, nothing particularly striking: they were there, in the background in spring...
Which would have led me to decide to complete, finally, Mele a metà - title which of course at that time hadn’t been set yet. And seeing Nadja taking lightly (!) me mentioning it, or maybe asking her to translate a few sentences to prepare a small presentation in German... would then be another reason that would make me shut it off with her too.
Brain is a scarce resource, on this planet, you know. More important is buying ever bigger TVs...
So, Speeding cars by Walking on cars brought me a perfect phrase to be included in my story: you'll go back to him and I'll go back to her. The story... those two chapters for which I had left some room eighteen years before! It was so gorgeous a dialogue between the two characters again... as if nothing had passed since that first chapter written even in 1992. A prequel. A figment of my mind. One of many, this time a positive one (!)

I began to move away from the LGBT etc group. In any case, I wasn’t able to tie much... and that was fine: once again, I thought that I would be alone, man or woman, forever. And that was fine, in fact it was more important to feel comfortable in front of the mirror or in stores than... anything else. The same feelings I had felt in 2013, when I made the decision... now finally free from fake friends or shity people nearby (!)

I decided to go back to Greece, after four years - and it was amazing as always! Dwell on women’ clothes and think that... it’d be the last time I was going on holiday in those trousers, made me calmer. Apart from some crying while seeing certain roles... the life it would have been right for me to live, if only I had been born in the right body. But it didn’t last long, and all the days were on average positive. I bought a CD of a greek group that did a pretty good music, as I was able to listen to it together to the retailer - which looked passionate about his work music a little like my old friend from Torino: the Pix Lax, of which I remember especially Monaxia mou ola "my loneliness is everything, my loneliness is nothing / my love you're everything, my love you're nothing".
Beautiful. And very fitted for me (!) not only in the first sentence.

I had started to chat with... no, let's stop using this totally wrong introduction! Let's say that, once again, me not being able to get to know people who could be interesting, I was chased on the horrendous site by an... hideous chick. A busty with a monster’s face - which thing she imputed to some wrong surgery.
Today I wouldn’t even focus on her looks: it would be enough to see how (for a change) she laughed reading my blasphemy because I said things that she hadn’t the courage to say (you have a child together with a bastard who then dumps you and sues you, in order not to be alone; you can’t find a job...)
And, of course, why do you want to become a woman? You're cute / don’t do that / it makes no sense, and so on...
We kept in touch for a couple of months. Then I received a communication from the italoshits, in relation to the famous sentence - to which I replied with an accurate description of the diseases that I was foreseeing for the policemen’s children, the judge and all those who were guilty - and the Sicilian chick told me she could help me with that problem. I replied that I had already tried everything two years before and I didn’t want to think about it anymore: I only dreamed about earthquakes and default throughout Italy (!) and she told me that I had lost touch with reality. I waited nonetheless for an answer about this... and after three weeks I sent her to hell.
Making promises you can’t keep - first mistake. And soon after, getting angry when someone makes you notice that you haven’t kept them: the usual complete reversal of reality, to use a phrase belonging to famous guy from Monza (!!)
In any case, Italy lost against Germany and I gave a party (!!!)

No one would actually bet that the British would have voted in favor of Brexit. And, in any case, since trusting subhuman was (is) risky, I appreciated that someone had killed the militant from pro-European party: we don’t care about sacrificing a human life, in order to avoid more excessive troubles.
Yes, at the moment I was (and still are) sufficiently detached from... all sorts of things (!!)

But, it happened. The next day, Stock exchanges which had been vaguely recovering (albeit with difficulty), lost 10-20% - and I gave back end at very very colorful blasphemies (!)
The stupidity of people who really believe they can close up on their island and continue to live the same welfare... without raw materials, without many things...
Anyway, this isn’t the place. But I noticed the coincidence that the day before I had met for the first time the psychiatrist who would then have to give me the okay to change... and somehow the thing was interesting, we say. Not by accident, of course.
My cat came with me on the river at six o’clock in the morning... I think he had seen I was really angry and so... cute!

It started to get really hot. Spirits by Strumbellas (which I somehow connected to Stressed out) and Lost on you by nice LP - but she soon turned quite boring with that way of singing, almost immediately after the (even better) Other people, with its remarkable lyrics: we never worried 'bout other people, you broke the spell and wanted something else: well, go fuck yourself with other people / Oh, baby it's just your body go, lay it on everybody / Oh, baby it's just your body: will it know that you love somebody who won't be there when you're sorry?
The nice Colors by Roosevelt, and even Desire, a little less brilliant from the returning Years and years along with Tove Lo. Heathens, great song by Twenty one pilots and Gravity from Hunger, equally beautiful. And then Is this love, a nice remix of a song of the otherwise hated Bob Marley (!) from Lvndscape & Bolier. And the poignant I hate u I love u by Gnash and Olivia O'Brien: you don’t care you never did / you don’t give a damn about me...

At last they arrived a little funny news (!): my Polish friend divorced! After her husband had been cheating on her for years - and who wouldn’t (!!)
No, seriously: it was... sublime, hearing the Induhviduals crying for their deficiency... Yes, it might look like I wanted revenge: and indeed it was like this, because it is not that all those who had been trampling my right ideals could always be happy; and also because I'd had enough of bearing fools (!!!)
And then the maphia aunt  died! I received that message from her son on a day in June and... since among his many flaws he had also been a policeman (!) I didn’t open it right away. But then I read it and... I rejoiced! I just drank a cup of coffee with the doctor and the ride home was filled with joy!! As I wrote some time later, now my mom has a chance to cover this bitch with spitting (or something similar).

The fact that Sinead o'Connor had attempted suicide... it seemed to me another case that had absolutely nothing to do with me: in the sense that her sadness seemed due to insanity... (the real one) and quite low ideals. In other words, when she ripped a photo of the pope all those years before, it hadn’t been a fair and reasoned battle, but a bare raving - a bit like the many women (and men) met in my life, or various toxic friends from Fabrizio.
To name one, I mean (!!)

On a hot August day I went to visit Liechtenstein, along a bit of kilometers in my car and I had Andiamo a comandare by Fabio Rovazzi playing… which, as stupid as it was, in the end wasn’t so bad, heard on the ring road. And L’estate di John Wayne by Raphael Gualazzi, he good as always and a really original song!
Then there were the DNCE with Cake by the ocean, a rather trivial catchphrase. Sofia, by Alvaro Soler, which I mention only because it was the lesser evil Latin song among all the obscene filth that those guys have churned out all these years!
About heaviness, add or better remember about Sean Paul: with Rockabye and more... As he said another DJ at Radio 105, in all his songs it always seems that there is a normal boy or girl singing, and he passes behind and make his verses, always the same for over ten years, as in a photobombing or better audiobombing 
Imany was back on the charts, with the nice Silver lining and Don’t be so shy; and then there were the Red Hot Chili Peppers with Dark necessities (that seemed to me like it was referring to my fantasies...) and then also Vorrei ma non posto by J.Ax and Fedez, more or less beautiful. And most of all Non hai ancora visto niente by Jovanotti, which I devoted to Italy...
And in fact, on a date not random at all, it came the earthquake in Amatrice! It was festive: awakening, the news, laughter and then realize what day it was... and thinking back to that January 22 two years earlier, and then to May 21... and now it was August 24!
The Irene’s dates had marked a... path, finally come to an end. Just a taste, an early taste, until the shity Italic will apologize and compensate the damage they did...
In fact, in October, again in the relevant-area-date, there was a nice bis (!)

Speaking of coincidences, I would keep remembering that another annoying "singer" who became famous in summer of 2016, i.e. Shawn Mendez... was born in August '98. Just in my days of Tunisia and... you know...!

The sequence of dead singers continued: Prince, then Maurice White of Earth Wind & Fire, Keith Emerson, John Berry of the Beastie Boys, Leonard Cohen, Mark Fisher of Matt Bianco and, at year end, George Michael. Incidentally, that year also died Dario Fo.
Moreover, he also died Nadja’s father, rather unexpectedly. Then, when one of their lesbian friends treated me badly, for no reason, as I tried to help her in their office - and I cried for a couple of hours - I told myself that that anticipation wasn’t wrong after all (!)

The chats with the doctor continued with some success: we talked a bit all over and she was said to believe that we would’ve met the psychiatrist’s demands, and this was basically the thing that interested me most. I didn’t want to hear someone saying again that I wanted to become a woman out of spite...
Actually, she used to compliment upon my eyes, women's eyes (a phrase that others have told me recently) and added that everything I had told her (including for example Carlo’s considerations) helped give her the feeling that I was in the wrong body.
That summer I wrote the famous My Love according to Roxette, discreetly inspired! And telling the psychologist about it was pleasant.
I began to do some other outing, with some other person from the past, and it was pretty neat. And then I happened to think back at Marco and to focus on some thoughts I had always had (at least since 2006) and now they seemed ends - clearer than ever. I talked to the doctor who, in this case perhaps over-zealous (!) asked me if I was going to see him again...
I'm not gay, I told her, but it sure doesn’t give me any trouble thinking of me like a woman in his arms, in his bed - because what mattered were our minds. More than with anyone else, so that at that time I coined the expression in Irene in pants for referring to him. And I found a similar phrase in the movie The imitation game, when he wants to get away from her and she says So what? I had my suspicions. I always did. But we're not like other people. We love each other in our own way, and we can have the life together that we want. You won't be the perfect husband? I can promise you I harboured no intention of being the perfect wife. I'll not be fixing your lamb all day, while you come home from the office, will I? I'll work. You'll work. And we'll have each other's company. We'll have each other's minds. Sounds like a better marriage than most. Because I care for you. And you care for me. And we understand one another more than anyone else ever has....
A thought, and half a tear, went to Gabriella. If I'd had the courage to speak openly about myself, five years earlier, perhaps the disasters wouldn’t have happened...

We don’t talk anymore, Charlie Puth sang along with Selena Gomez, and it wasn’t bad. Then there was The kids by One Republic, always good. At the italian level, Giorgia’s return with Oro nero and especially the next Vanità were appreciable, while Tiziano Ferro seemed to me... gone. Boh. And also Rocco Hunt’s Wake up was nice, although the usual singing about southerners themes makes songs very annoying very quickly (!!!)
Then there was the duet Stevie Wonder/Ariana Grande with Faith, so and so...

The world still seemed on the verge of economic collapse, even if temporarily frozen. The italian banks, of course (and rightly) did their share, also settling on the edge. And I had a remarkable prescience (only partly due to the knowledge of the facts) about stocks of Monte dei Paschi and... so I recovered a bit of the losses - but above all reinforced my confidence in my powers (!)
And that Sunday to the famous Neuschwanstein Castle, in my dress with polka dots... it was wonderful: the sun, the blue sky, the spring temperature...
Beautiful life, yep, at times, so sang Lost Frequencies with Sandro Cavazza. And the new kitten they gave me in November - after another weed beast from this damn planet had promised me to keep for me the one she had at home, during the three days of my trip to Vienna, but on return she had reneged her promise - was so sympathetic: Nadja fell in love with him in the picture and I told her that, in fact, sometimes I was lucky.
Even more than sometimes, in fact. Especially, of course, if I stopped listening to the subhuman... and very little was missing!

Party like a russian by Robbie Williams made me smile at the thought that we are many, on this planet, to think of the Russians like uncivilized bastards! Then there was Human by Rag'n'Bone man, cute, and so When we were lovers by Jack Savoretti. Starboy by The Weeknd along with Daft Punk, beautiful sounds. Cold water by Major Lazer along with Justin Bieber, not bad in its lightness. And then La risposta by Samuel, who I returned to appreciate after so much stuff so and so. The fun and danceable Please tell Rosie from Alle Farben, and the… strong? how to describe it? Das geschenk by Sportfreunde Stiller with those so... strong lyrics.
And, of course, Unici by Nek: which was out to the radio right when I marked an end on my mega-novel, and... siamo unici, unici, io e te, I've included as a dedication at its end. Because, of course, the two protagonists of the story are actually unique. And also because when, in 2003, that famous Cinzia mentioned to me her idea to go and watch Nek - and I made this desire my own... I wasn’t thinking I would come to finish that story!
Completing that book, I also rediscovered (as we said) I'll be around the Spinners, which I liked very much: I'll be around, whenever you need me...

Everyone thought that Trump would not win... but that was 2016, and so (!)
But, fortunately, after a bit of loss, the stocks began to point up and that was basically what mattered: that is, why waste more time explaining to people how you should not vote the shit (i.e. those who will take you to war)? It was useless - and then, it’s right to gain on their skin. Which, incidentally, is what they make more or less all over the world... only I thought I was better than them: but in fact I think I’m still better than them, only, not being able to eliminate them from my sight, I note that you have to endure and exploit them, and give them what they dream.
As in Matrix (!!)

By early December, my doctor was sufficiently satisfied of our dialogues, and so she would soon set and prepare a report for the psychiatrist. On the Trump day (!!!!!) I had an appointment again with the aforementioned doctor, this time in the right clothes, to do some more words... and also to check how he would see it. And it was fantastic! I remember our conversation in three languages, his quiet voice, his questions, my answers and... meaningful phrases like from what you tell me, from what you described to me, you’re not perverted or sick, but simply a very obvious case of transexual.
Which put to rest all the fears that I had had in years - also fears fomented by the various little people encountered in my life. And then why did you wait so long? and the lump in my throat and a tear held by force, and answering him the truth that is that I had a little fear of the reactions of others (other people) and of the surgery, and in other words that simply times were not ready yet...

With these certainties, I prepared to face the new year and finally the change. I jumped quickly to Italy to recover some pieces of... investments that were in the wrong hands, and listened to Emelie from Filous & Mount on the radio and Klangkarussell’s Hey Maria, always clever and original. And also a bit of things to dance, like Another chance from Tom & Hills and Lordly by Feder Alex Aiono and the powerful Belong by Axwell & Shapov. Yet the remix of Would I lie to you by David Guetta & Chris Willis with Cedric Gervais and that one from What is love by Lost Frequencies.
Oh, and then there was also Flowrag with Helden and Lose control by Matt Simons.

And so we arrived in December. The referendum in Italy... Oh well, as I said, they didn’t deserve Renzi and then... so well. For my part I read an ad about a small house, very pretty... and so I went to see it and the place was a little bit colder, but I liked it and...
The house that had seen me happy, finally away from the italiotic mafias, where and at which I had made so many pictures... it was too big for me. Who would have been alone, man or woman, for ever: I knew maybe even when I bought it but... I didn’t wish to be scaled down in my square meters (!) because of the Italian bastard children. Now, however, having some less room to manage was perfectly okay...
So, on December 30 I prepared an offer for the new house and, to myself, I said that it would finally be the home of the real me.

And the year is closed... in fact, with the catastrophic news of George's death. Less catastrophic... than how I would’ve thought in the past, because (as I have written elsewhere) I saw his life worsening and gayfying (in the bad sense of the word) for over ten years: that look, that smile, or rather that grin...
And I felt just as well because... again, in early December I had been listening to Last Christmas coming out of each radio station or store as usual and... I thought this time it would’ve given me less hassle at hearing it all the time, and possibly rethink about 1985. And...
Nothing. I don’t know what may have thought Nicola, or Marco - with both there have been no further contacts.
I suppose, for those who have no present life but live the reflected ones from their children or their boss... losing a mainstay of those (few) years when they were really alive, has had a disruptive effect... (!)

Sugar, Wild Kulture vs. Karmin

L’estate di John Wayne, Raphael Gualazzi

Heathens, Twenty one pilots