There are nights when you start digging. And the intention was noble: it was that sort. It orders and you do not realize that while you do it in order to claim irreverent inside yourself.
knew a person who could in a mistral. Mistral is, but without ever managing to become my master of this art. He ordered and found a house to every object, almost as if it felt the need to have one, and he's had won a roof, exemplary act of magnanimous charity. And one night he told me that the tape from that time would have to reside in the third drawer in a small blue box together with staples. And while he did it I understood that ordering something bigger and I had great envy of this capacity that I was nothing to think about, cynical and determined, now that the tape would have to pay tax on the house and maybe he did not want to.
In an ordinary evening of intention to order inside the drawers, with the unconscious as an ordinary claim in order to make myself, I came across in my music. In what was in the air spread from the small speakers of my notebook and what was in CDs, audio cassettes in the dusty charm of another era, another life, that inside those drawers were found fixed and welcoming residence.
There were Baptists, the first Baptists, what we all know, whose voice brought me up and mixed in my memory to my father and my little girl's voice, that I do not remember but I seem to feel out of place above while the other two.
It seems to me to relive those moments in the car while it was singing Thoughts and (a) Words and how the t ristezza makes no noise when it falls . And I sang and I did not know yet that sadness does not make noise because it has a way of slimy worm creep into things and froze.
There was always Battisti, to Panella, they realized that not all the obscurity of the texts and that I loved more than the first. The Baptist de "Returns" who taught me that "Loving each other is this: the rule of being alone in the world, only to be alone in loving, wiping the invincible army " and that" you survive everything to fall in love. "
"The Return" of Baptists and performed in the "The Return" Amor Fou of my computer today to tell me that "To be master of oneself celebrates the return but does not satisfy " sentences and never were, for me, more real, so that now I think " The Return " is what is called a" name a security "when used as title for a song.
It was Baglioni remember that "We do not ... we do not want to go to heaven if you do not see the sea " and I do not want to go to heaven even if you do not see the sea, even if you do not see the sea I will not go anywhere because I would not be able to find something so immense and at the same time reassuring which melt when I want to fall back on myself and find myself. I have a deep relationship with the sea and the smell that emanates and I strongly believe that the color of the fishing boats beached on the sand of our lava-Sicilian coast are the more bright colors that the world can offer, especially if you stand against 'blue the sky under which I am now writing. And I do not want to separate, which would be an almost unbearable nostalgia that catches me after.
And it is the same sea of \u200b\u200bsinging in which De Andrè Creuza de Ma . And he sang that I was only a child and now sings in the same way. But if I had been told that the words sung would have the art of painting that was typical of the brushes I would not have believed before listening to that song. And I think the brushes have a good reason to take offense if they could hear, than to be stealing the job is not good. And now Instead I believe and I believe that the people who come from the sea has something that the league forever, like an umbilical cord, and the waves lull us, for us people of the sea, are reassuring and maternal amniotic fluid, only saltier. And that's why I go back to the sea as you return to the womb, and I find myself. And if God had a form for me was that of the sea. Otherwise I do not think so.
There was, between the music I found, a CD of Rino Gaetano who sang that "The sky is always bluer" and who sang those who have put me in the world were just kids and he sang that there are those who play in San Remo and who dies at work and who hates southerners. And now that I am the girl who is still playing in San Remo and to the prince with the wound of exile, has wearied all this rigmarole those with some cognitive faculty. There's still people dying at work and there are also those who die every day because the work does not have it and there are also those who die every day because the work takes the form of exploitation and not have to rebel, "that if you do not is good to try something else out there so there is nothing worse or conditions are you okay or that's the door and stay a little more and you die '. And there are still those who hate the southerners, and southerners would like to thank the immigrants because those who first hated southerners now have only the Albanians, Senegalese, Moroccans and Roma to hate a bit 'more. And being second in the ranking of hatred is already a great achievement. And if it seems to me that song playback than in the past so many years, Rino would also be able to write yesterday, and the text might be identical. And that speaks volumes about the situation in Italy.
Gaber And then there was the question of what What is the right and left and I wonder that too but a fool any one evening telling me that my coat is "dude" and then is right and I wonder what the hell am I doing with someone who believes that a coat still say something about the political ideas of a person and as he strives in this analysis trivial butt of consumer jokes that I hum " The gym shoes or tennis have yet to taste a bit 'right, but bring them all dirty and a bit 'loose is silly rather than the left. " And so I keep my coat and not the dirt and not the lure, that if he says that is by Gaber stupid than to the left I believe. And I, if I left there was still left, of course, not lessened.
And then there was Flack singing "Mr Judge you buy the costume, you eat the kumquat with its tomato " and I believe that Judge Mr Berlusconi would be happy if you were to go shopping and eat oranges instead of persecuting him, poor man. That work to get a law on a personal day is a tough job but somebody's gotta do it because it's not seventy's time to retire to a cell at rest (unfortunately for us).
The same Flack sings "Eurydice" now, inside my computer as I write. He sings the most beautiful love story of all time and sings "the story of her hands were plaice, and eyes like incantations in order to slip the edge of night" and I listen and I think it's pure and dramatic poetry. She sings that " twenty years and had made love and she left in the fields of May does not grow a flower Sing Him, Orpheus, who had won and beaten the sky ' lost twice and receiving hell for not having trusted, not believing, for doubting that he was holding the hand of a shadow from the underworld and the reported Life. It had turned left and receiving at night. And she died for the second time did not complain (cited Ovid) because he had only too much love and that she was dead. And the most beautiful way to die there, I also so that I would die one day.
And there were many, many CDs, and then there was one of Sinatra, who had bothered to write a song for my father, even if it never came to him while wrote. But my father knew the song was and I remember his amazement at finding the text in the anthology of my book when I was averages. And the song makes Nino not afraid to kick a penalty, that it's not from these parts that you judge a player. And he says that "the boy even though he will narrow shoulders" . And my father had narrow shoulders, has always had, but as a player "you see the courage, altruism and creativity" certainly would have nothing to fear and would not become sad that a player would " hung his shoes in some type of wall."
And then the next When leaving for a trip I will take another jersey of a distant city, including that of Copenhagen where I would remain her favorite.
so happens that one evening you wish to order, but you are not good if you come across in my memories. You are not a good idea to post your thoughts if you do not need a place to find things but you need to write, because basically put words one after the other is a way to order, just do it in a sentence .
Put away all the CDs and audio cassettes dusty. I open a page in Word, and the folder labeled "Music."
Wanted.
I click on Mad World by Gary Jules Wise Brother because I wrote that one day I would have played it whenever I felt the need. And I need it often, even now, so the next time I see him he will sit at the piano and play me. And in the meantime I'll settle on the version you have.
And the words are pulverized into the music and the computer keyboard.
Sweetness and horror in one music (Montale cited)
sweetness and horror that takes me to remember.
sweetness and horror that I need to write and order.
and otherwise do not know.
And my mind is back, peacefully and orderly.
Silvia.
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