Friday, December 31, 2010

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sailor suit



Viareggio, south-westerly breeze and overcast sky, the clouds chase each other at low altitude in a race without end, some time is not the classic beach holiday but is a continual feast for Ila even when the sun is a desire, then we decide to go to the beach to watch the waves furiously unload their fury on the deserted shore. After some time, but the wind can tear even the enthusiasm of Ila in whose eyes we read a dumb question: "Why here in this weather?".
The game is over, only time for a photo stolen from the flight path home for a hot soup.
Years pass and the picture ends up in an album along with many others, mute testimony to a tiny fragment of real life, perhaps especially the color combination of colors, but nothing more, yet that day were just a little girl dressed in a sailor near a ski rescue, were much more: the key to open the door of memories of a past time.
close my eyes and feel again the smell of fresh paint shoes ready for the season, I hear the screams of appeal to those who, in defiance of the prohibitions categorical, sat on the pad save, in the perception of that distant memory even the sailor dress me seems less ridiculous.

Bloody Mucus Before Period

noble intent: No arrangement 8098

The history of this track back to the early twenty-first century, when the piano was delighted to battered the Maronites to himself with the same arranger keyboard. One of the many delusions
music was a song in 7 / 8 pompous and slow as the year of hunger. Years later passed through the hands of the Jumbo Peanut and became a rock, with the initial disappointment of the piano, then still linked to patterns baroque music. And by dint of resume and rearrange, we made several versions of this piece how many have been made cover of "Imagine" by John Lennon. God knows what was the original title, but among the latest headlines in living memory remember "Biscuits Sunday," "noble intentions" and of course "The seven-eighths" (as it is prosaically named in the rehearsal room). A patchwork of the latest versions can be found in the MP3 section, entitled " Noble Intent - Version Frankenstein."
In recent weeks the trio fusion (Mario, Gianni and Cesco), while awaiting the arrival of guitarist and singer, has agreed to come up with a new arrangement , again distorting the structure of the piece. For the moment we arrived in the middle. Then we proposed Lisa the poor because we sing over. But it's not - mind you - on the more melodic (which otherwise was too easy), but on the most cacophonous. Our vocalist is unfortunate finally fallen into a state of despair and deep depression, while Mario was trying to convince her to produce vocalize eel-like love song mentioned in the verses of a famous poet of Coppull. All 'I'm working (which includes the piano with a nice tail that smadonna because he forgot his phone on and the editor of the Corriere del Veneto took the opportunity to call at eleven in the evening) was done first by the usual clever mix Dj Frantisek, under which we propose as an aperitif. The new record goes forced stages. In a couple of decades is over.

Download it:
Noble Intent (remixed by DJ Frantisek)

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

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The graveyard of ships death


west coast of Greece, we are back from the island of Ithaca in the late afternoon light there flows the coast to our left with monotonous regularity, when the bottom of a wide bay, I see something unusual that breaks the continuity of the coast, and the distance does not allow me to distinguish details and stimulated by curiosity I think it might be worth delaying the return to investigate more carefully. We report to Claudio, there follows a short distance, and both begin to pull over on the ground to reduce the distance. At the end of the detour we enter the bay and see long lines of old ships moored edge to edge waiting, eaten by rust, an unlikely departure. The show that presents itself to our eyes is very unusual slow movement and reduce the distance coming in, little by little, become part of the unreal landscape.
The noise of the board becomes a soft hum that highlights the background noise: the cracking of the mooring lines that are stretched and creaking metallic structures that expand according to temperature changes. The property is just water rippled by the slow progress of the boats and even the sun seems to warm up less than before: we've entered the graveyard of ships death.
I give the bar to take some pictures, for future memory of a meeting only to say the least. With the eye in the viewfinder is greater isolation from the others, my vision is reduced to a single field of view, as I observe the scene and start thinking about what I see.
I always thought that man is intimately tied to the ship more than any other artifact that he himself created. It is the only ship that identifies itself home, means of transportation, place of work and socialization. The ship is the only link with the mainland during those endless journeys. The ship is the only antidote to fear the fury of the storm where the incoming wave stops, each time, the heart for a long endless moment. It is the ship that can catalyze the ability of everyone in the certainty that its failure may be death for all. There was also the ship that, first, allowed man to discover the vastness of the world and soon to shorten the distances.
For these extraordinary natural ability I have always considered that the Its ultimate destination would be towards the bottom of the sea.
It is perhaps for this reason that the sight of those ships piled up, waiting to be cut into sheets and taken to the foundry in tribute to a relentless logic of profit, I unconsciously aroused a deep sense of unease.
Suddenly I realized where I was clear I was not entered in the graveyard of ships death, I was in a place far worse: I entered the graveyard of ships forgotten.


Sunday, December 19, 2010

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Oh Captain, My Captain


Captain in you eyes your noble destiny
you ever think the sailor who lack bread and wine
captain that you are getting
princesses in every port you ever think the boatman and his wife believed dead.


Captain your faults I pay with my days
while my greatest sin the gods smile and
if you die is a king who dies your house will have an heir
when I come home Entran in hunger and thirst.




Captain solve that by cunning
each adventure you remember that every time a soldier has no fear but also
fear at the end always gives me a strange taste
if there was still the world are ready wherever we go.
(Ithaca L. Dalla)



Tuesday, December 7, 2010

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Island (not) there


North of Sardinia, Ila is already awake for some time and we decided to depart early morning for a tour of the islands. In view of the sea is now the desert, and enjoy the trip on your own. Shortly after the departure Ila fall asleep wrapped in his orange life jacket, lulled by the sound of the outboard and the fluid movement of the boat that glides on the sea as still as the crystal. The coast rushes to our left and soon we get close to our destination, but Ila continues to sleep and we will not stop the dream that we can imagine the expression on his face.
To save time and reduce the pace we begin the circumnavigation of the island hoping for a providential revival, the reduced pace allows me to pull over and help us grasp the details of the landscape that flows to the side, where, hidden by a bit, we is a small cove deserted white sand beach and water transparency unreal. The event is one of those not to be missed and Ila comes out of his dream and opens one eye, look at us, turn your head, look at the creek and turned back toward us smiling: the invitation is clear and without saying a word to berth land.
We moored and unload our things: a bag and a bucket of green plastic, inseparable playmate of Ila.
We have the feeling of being foreign, uninvited, in other people's homes and never walk on the beach to prevent contamination of the site with the balance in our footsteps, but this sort of modesty irrational infects Ila who decides to crawl on the shoreline, the move is uncertain and behind her, after its passage, the polished surface of the sand seems torn from the grooves of deep wounds. We look at realizing thinking the same thing and we would take to stop the slaughter of her journey from bulldozer but before you get to implement our idea, we realize that the sea was faster than us and the surf of the small wave level and remove the grooves, then we understand that we're certainly not as strangers but perhaps kindly invited born.
Time rushes past, playing on the shoreline and in shallow water but never cross the boundary where the benevolent tolerance of pain becomes unbearable, and soon it's time for fall, weighed anchor with the certainty that we will remember for a lifetime of magic and unreal island of his set, and as the boat cuts a furrow in the deep blue sea I smile at the thought that the island and We will certainly set her wonderful already have forgotten and will not retain any way our memory.



Monday, December 6, 2010

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Legend of divers

Many years ago, on a beach sunburned, I met an old fisherman, appeared to have lived a thousand years, people in the village remember him as always. I discovered that we shared a passion for diving and we were talking about the sea and past experiences.
The most beautiful time spent together was the day I told a great secret: the legend of the divers. I do not Legend told how she came up to him but when he spoke the name of God he looked straight into my eyes.
He continued: "So God gave each man a certain period to be spent on earth, the end of this period was determined by the number of breaths gifts at birth. Injustice, on a case, fate, luck are all legends that are lost into the oblivion of the mists of time. "
It continued: "But God forgot the man, who had just created, one day he would learn to dive and stay that way without breathing. True to his word pledged to return, each diver the number of breaths that were spared being underwater. "
His eyes lit up when he finished his story, saying that only divers were able to turn back the hands of time. Without worrying about my surprise he continued: "Of course there is a little 'more work to do: remember the runs made by each, calculate the time spent underwater, take your list and add the breath-hold. But these men must have something special otherwise they would be transformed into dolphins for a long time. " Then he smiled with a wink and said, "Know perhaps another man who complicates his life to have fun if it's worth it? ".


Wednesday, December 1, 2010

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choice I would not choose

I wish the choices were water slides where located space and the space is becoming.
inevitable consequence of a thought, a way of necessity be.