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Post della categoria english.

I killed the goat

Out of a classic attack of “mediterranean august void madness” (a psychic disorder that affects people who live around the mediterranean area when their entire town closes up for holidays and they’re home with little to do) this morning I’ve decided to perform a delicate surgery procedure on my face: I removed my goatee – keeping only the moustache and my puny soul patch. The startling result was the rediscovery of my chin, buried in hair for 15 years. So, for those of you who met me after 1995, here’s my (on its way to double) chin. Special thanks to Nico Celada for suggesting this move.

Stamattina, per via di quella strana follia che prende la gente a agosto (specie quella che si trova in città, anche di passaggio), ho intrapreso una missione di speleologia del pelo facciale, eliminando (dopo ben 15 anni di onorato servizio) il mio pizzetto e scoprendo un mento dimenticato. Ora, dimenticare il proprio mento è un fatto gravissimo (anche da un punto di vista lessicale), quindi ho deciso di fare ammenda condividendo con voi gli esiti di questa operazione semplice ma ricca di implicazioni (non solo concernenti la rieducazione alla delicata rasatura dell’area). Si ringrazia Nico Celada per la consulenza estetica.

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E chi t’è muort’


Il fumo I, digital print, 160 x 90 cm
(click to enlarge)

On making stuff


Spam II, digital print, 160 x 90 cm

“I’m never not working. Even as I sit here chatting of Kafka or cranberries, sodomy or softball, my mind is simoultaneously glued to the piece I’m currently creating.”
from Facing the night by Ned Rorem, quoted in Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks

“Hey! Are you talking to me? Or are you just practicing for one of those performances of yours?”
from Language is a virus by Laurie Anderson

Google shit view

I was looking at California real estate agencies today, a clear sign of my present state of mind (and the degree of affection I have for my country), and I was checking out a property on North Wilton and Maplewood. Unfortunately Google street view was somewhat cluttered.

The house itself (the small yellow building) wasn’t very nice thou: an expensive 1922 pretty little home, later revamped by some insane stucco maniac, stuck between that building an a busy street.

Rock’n'roll, at last


Evolution, music & video by SM, vocals by Kelly X
(right-click and save as a mov file)

This song explores a terrible human condition, showing that there is light at the end of the tunnel. We all have lovely parents, and we’re pretty nice folks ourselves: we would never, ever say bad things about them. We know we’re nice also because there are some gutter white trash, pieces of shit, honky ass, red neck motherfuckers out there, and we sure aren’t one of them, right?

Unfortunately, in this mean world, there are some less fortunate people: the children of gutter white trash, pieces of shit, honky ass, red neck motherfuckers. This song is for them. Remember: no matter how gutter white trash, pieces of shit, honky ass red neck motherfuckers your parents are, you still have hope: just get the fuck out of that fucking barn right now!

Mi dispiace, ma questa canzone è intraducibile. Racconta della liberazione di una ragazza figlia di genitori assai antiquati, razzisti e spiacevoli. La fanciulla, dopo aver lasciato la natìa casetta di campagna, finalmente può disporre della sua esistenza come meglio crede.

PS: Thanks, grazie, merci, danke for the heaps of views, embedding, messages. You’re the best audience there is.

Leggi & guarda

Consueto aggiornamento dei miei articoli mensili: Alt Sex 2.0 (rubrica fotografica) da Rolling Stone sulle scritte nelle foto porno, Avviso di Chiamata da Rumore sulla perversa relazione tra Techno e Lardo e InLoop da InSound in cui si parla della vera macchina del tempo – il registratore. Buona lettura. PS: I commenti funzionano di nuovo a meraviglia.

As you might know, I have a photo page called Alt Sex 2.0 on Rolling Stone Italia. The march issue, online now, is entitled Show & Tell, and it’s about text in still pictures. It does have a small italian text, but the meat is the photos – as usual.

Triplets


(click to enlarge)

Glenn’s lost brothers

Wrong side

One of the privileges of age is to be able to sound convincing when singing old people’s songs. And I don’t mean old songs; I mean those lyrics that require time and experience to be sung right. A very good example is Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters: one thing is to hear a 25 year old sing it, a whole different story is to hear a 50 year old Muddy deliver it – and mean it. Another song of the same family is Born Loose by Rod Stewart (circa 1977, when Rod still brewed his nasty brand of Rolling Stones on steroids r’n'r). Maybe he meant it when he sung it (he didn’t know he’d be making Christmas albums in the future), but I can truly wear his lyrics with pride, especially when he says:

Born loose, I was born loose baby
Slow me down, you can’t slow me down

I was born loose, born loose
Wrong side of my mama
Wrong side of my dad
Wrong side of the tracks

I was born loose baby
Can’t change me now
Cause you’re too late now
Too late
To change me now
Never change me now
Born loose
Born loose

Fountain of youth

I see stuff like this and I’m full of questions: how do you mean “overturning the urine bowl”? Is this an asian sport like Bukkake? Is it a superpower? And what on earth is Black Raspberry Wine? It sounds like porn for older guys with prostate problems and time on their hands, dreaming to once again (?) overturn the urine bowl with strenght of his pee.