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Francesco Guccini, Roncobilaccio, John Fante

I'll be back in the car by MRI starting at 10 am. Smoothly until Roncobilaccio, go out the exit and go to the restaurant to eat a Florentine ronco 1kg. homemade fettuccine with mushrooms. potatoes. San Pelligrino water. I place myself in the car for the last part of the way and 5 are at home. Very good, although not all stereo. I thought a lot (even). And sang. Or at least trying to remember the songs. And I do not know what strange mystery, I found myself singing Guccini. That's why I put two (or three, four, 5) video below. And while I was rushing to 140 on the general convex on the A1 I told myself that I can (still) call themselves anarchists (Babylon I did not fold), and that the revolution did not do in the living room, complete with crystal stemware. Revolution is a matter of attitude and approach things.
Then I was reminded of these verses (always Guccini):

Fantasy can bring bad if you do not know well how to tame it, but
cheap, worth what it's worth, and you can no longer prevent to use it;
I, God willing, I am not your father, I have not the balls square, you have the
twisted fantasy ideas, go with the mind and short legs,
then you will always have a good time to fix it:
the ways of the world you are open, so always have your back covered
and you will always good excuse to reject it!
To reject you were a genius, wasting time to reject me,
but there is no excuse, there is no remedy, if I look good no, there's a reason;
born in March, born sock, caste who dreams of 'being a bitch,
when you're inside you want to be always looking out past loves
and you canceled all out but you, but here I
nail you to those your thoughts, those rags you've been thrown 's yesterday,
lost forever in search of what is not there, I
here to nail you those your thoughts, those rags you've been thrown 's yesterday
lost forever in search of what is not there,
here I nail you to those your thoughts, those rags you've been thrown' s Yesterday
lost forever in search of what is not there ...

Still, as I'm reading John Fante, Ask the Dust. A beautiful book. Why is the protagonist (Catholic) is penniless, squanders his money, falls in love with a girl and wants (it is believed to be) a great writer. But this is not the point. The point is that slips between the tragic and the comic seamlessly. If you read this book there is a unique mood. Or rather the mood of Ask the Dust is that the type is not broken, maybe bend sometimes, but that is always there with cazzimma. already to be operated. convex

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books

the holidays are over for a week. Epper I am continuing to read (now Ask the Dust by John Fante). not easy to find a good book, one that maintains that the title seems to say, those well written, and who have something to say. often the books are full of lies and make you believe that then become wonderful stories (broken promises). other times ugly and you insist on reading them in full just because you say no, you may be so insignificant. then there are really good ones that you feel lucky to read them. where there are so many things inside cacchiarola think that the author just has to be a genius. how did this to slide over the abyss so light? exercise domain someone said, then I'll explain:)

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Neffa I think a few years will be counted among the great poets / Italian singer. Meanwhile, I buy myself a new disk and leave you I'm the piece.

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between Pasolini and I'm Culicchia

as usual on holiday I have time to read a bit '. I'm a lap burn the city of hustlers and Culicchia Pasolini. Although according to R. The first would be a kind of masterpiece hilarious to me just did not like. tell the life of these 3 dj house of turin you make cocaine from morning to night carousing through creative agencies, political careerists and girls all the same with the fringe and the tribal girl on the ass like the big brother is quite insignificant. it is clear Culicchia writes well I'll smile and some tears. But I have another idea of \u200b\u200bwriting a script that says something, in this book, I know that Culicchia even tried.
boys life instead splits. I started reading it because I had never read anything by Pasolini. situations and the characters are so realistic that pulls out (ita postwar and beyond) to seem surreal. is a life that is taking a bite from these stakeholders must necessarily turn the day to not succumb. and then it's all right, and turn a few thousand pounds you can do anything. so within a few hours the money will end up bringing some friends to fuck bitch fat and hairy, making money fool some gambling, or simply going to buy clothes luxury to spend an afternoon a gentleman (and back to Dorima the night under the bridges).
and think about it, perhaps, to light of Pasolini, Culicchia also makes sense (I love contradicting myself). at the end Iaio dj dj dj boh zombies and have the same attitude Riccetto, Angel and caciotta, and whether these three were catapulted in turin / Milan / Rome no more than to take drugs, get laid, etc ...

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ya know from game




"Motto"

[Intro: Method Man] Yo ..
. shhhhhhiiiiiiit aww!

[Hook: Method Man]
My niggaz, how we do it? You know it like a poet, baby doll
Break through it, you know it like a poet, baby doll
I spit, chew it, you know it like a poet, baby doll
Get in the music, you know it like a poet, baby doll

[Method Man]
If you don't know, you better, ask somebody who I be
On land, air, or sea, I don't need No I.D
Once again, let's get under their skins like I.V.'s
Or Roman numerals fours (IV's) who we doin' the score
I got a shoe in the door, nothin' new anymore
Ya'll got love for me? I got love for you and yours
Tical Part 0, my friend, rappers is fightin'
Like Tyson, when nothin' else work I'll start bitin'
My shit, and his shit, I'm hopin' it end
I live my life like a lotto ticket, hopin' it win
Purple haze got me chokin' again, open again
I'm what's crackin', like your mamma smokin' again

[Chorus: Method Man]
If you see a model, then you might see me follow
Rubbin' her thighs like Aladdin rub the Genie bottle
Back for another swallow, Method, you know my motto:
"Ya'll might just win today, but I'll be back tomorrow"

[Method Man]
Ya'll tryin' to get me started
Who on the short yellow bus tryin' to get retarded?
Kid don't be the artist, formerly known as artist
Jump off a skyscraper, the roof who hit the hardest
Where the bastards at and where they habitats?
I send they asses back to foldin' sweaters at the Gap
I like Nikes, food spicy, I'm a Pisces
That's why women love me and any nigga that's like me
Thoroughbread, I'm with gettin' this dough instead
Need a ho, like I need another hole in the head
Lord help me, I'm crackin' the safe, pocket like 'Face
Mighty Healthy, you know I'm the shit, soon as you smelt me

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
For what it's worth, the early bird sit at the table and eat first
My niggaz need work, mami buggin', rippin' my t-shirt
We can kick it until our feet hurt
Mothers warn your daughters 'bout this tall drink of water
Spoiler, waiter give her anything she order on the menu
Method Man, live at your venue
Smokin' it, jumpin' off the dick, like he mental
Kid, I got a murder rap, and my head is simple
Open up the pussy, put the lead in the pencils
And people sayin' Wu gon' break up, ya'll
We got y'all numbers, it's time ya'll got your wake up calls, and..

[Chorus 2X]

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u know jazz? SUMMERTIME

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No sun will shine in my day today; (no sun will shine)
The high yellow moon wont come out to play:
(that high yellow moon wont come out to play)
I said (darkness) darkness has covered my light,
(and the stage) and the stage my day into night, yeah.
Where is the love to be found? (oo-ooh-ooh)
Wont someone tell me?
cause my (sweet life) life must be somewhere to be found -
(must be somewhere for me)
Instead of concrete jungle (la la-la!),
Where the living is harder (la-la!).

Concrete jungle (la la-la!):
Man you got to do your (la la-la!) best. wo-ooh, yeah.
No chains around my feet,
But Im not free, oh-ooh!
I know I am bound here in captivity;
Gyeah, now - (never, never) Ive never known happiness;
(never, never) Ive never known what sweet caress is -
Still, Ill be always laughing like a clown;
Wont someone help me? cause I (sweet life) -
Ive got to pick myself from off the ground
(must be somewhere for me), he-yeah! -
In this a concrete jungle (la la-la!):
I said, what do you cry for me (la-la!) now, o-oh!
Concrete jungle (la la-la!), ah, wont you let me be (la la-la!), now.
Hey! oh, now!
---
/guitar solo/
---

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After almost a year

I would say that I'm still alive!
That I may go back and have a passing phase .. maybe!