The emailbag - 1
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Some stuff has been happening in the past few days. But first, i promised i'd post this up!
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30/12/03-0346-Won’t go down
(Textual homage to evaristo)
“If only I could hunt the hunter,
if only I could make the maker,
if only I could kill the killer.”
(Alanis Morrisette)
Ok, I had way too many psycoactive substance and swallowed way too much alcool to do this properly, but I feel I am up to it….i can still type. Won’t go down, as evaristo says.
Life is quite disrupted, I have to say, and is not as it once was and as, I hope, it will be.
But in less than 48 hours I’ll meet in napoli (ok, in a village around napoli, it’s all the same to me, I came from puglia!) with my roomo and with evaristo for a good self-destruction party, so I have no problem tonight.
Tonight…this text is just an account of tonight.
Boring, but it’s interesting, trust me. Nothing special, just a night that an (ex)college student enjoyed a lot. Life, and you could have done just the same tonight.
It all started with the invitation to a punk-jazz concerto from my dad. Now, what the hell is punk-jazz? Now, I don’t read rumore, neither I have a huge musical culture. But I like punk, and I try to listen to as much punk I can. I like punk-rock, I find hard-punk difficult and I love punk-ska. But punk-jazz, I never heard of it. Anyway, why not giving it a try.
As punk is punk, and I don’t drink alone, I had to make a smoking-preparation. Just starting, and a friend of mine calls up. With company it’s always better. Some deftones and pink floyd, and we can go.
We got there, just to see [name withdrawn to avoid Eternal Damnation] sending some rain as a sign of his approval for punk-jazz, and we bought some beer. I mean, it’s punk.
Well, the concert was ok. When you go to punk concerts in a place than once was an illegal storage facility for drug smugglers, you can’t have too many expectations. A punk band (band…bah) that I know expelled the drummer on the ground that he was too good with the drums. So, I had my usual low musical expectations. Beer and people trying to phisically hurt and maim you make up for the music. That anyway is punk , so fun.
And the music was great. Don’t know where the jazz side ended, but the punk one was great. Enjoyable music, good lirics, danced a lot.
Ended up listening to a friend I knew when I was 10 telling me, after offering me an evil bottle of wine, as if you pass a special sigarett (those with taste) to the left is for the goddes cali, and if to the right is for shiva. Now, I like Cali more. We are talking about a bue woman with eight arms that kills her enemies with a sword and drinks the blood before it touches the ground. A cool typ, so I like her more. Obviously, I passed to the right. I never do what I decide to do. Self contraddiction. Simpson sindrome.
After meeting a lot of people I did not talk to for two years, the concert was over. We decided to go home. Only to end up in the mud with the car. I mean really in the mud. The car got stuck. Now, this is usually not such a big problem. But when when the person that drives the car proposes to get it out with a rope that is back home, and is really determined to do it, it gets problematic. And if it’s 0230, and you are drunk, it is even worse.
Anyway, the rope somehow came out. I was taking pictures with my digital camera.
Got out of the mud, we went back home happy for a cost free concert. Apart when I got into the discussion on wheter burned cds means not supporting the bands I like. But sorry, after a bastard stole in the library my cd case with all my 44 cds, I don’t manage to buy originals cds anymore. It’s not the same anymore.
Got home, we went to the pub. THE pub. The only pub, I would add.
A beer, since I know the bar girl and I have to buy something. Anyway, she does not offer.
After the beer, I meet a friend I see once every year. But when I was a child, he always gave me food and presents (he is some 10 years older), so I still adore him.
Of course, he was going to drink rum. A shot of rum should be no deal, but I was having problems standing. Too much punk, that was the reason, you know.
But the college taught me to drink vodka, but it did not teach me when to stop. So I had my shot of rum. Had a sigarett with the bargirl, then noticed I was talking about something I had (and still have) no idea about (not that I knew nothing about it, I did not know what was I talking about), so finally agreed with my liver and brain that it was time to go to sleep. Came here, met a norvegian friend that told me to download something from opeth, and so I did. Have’nt listened to it yet, is still downloading some songs. Do you know opeth? It must be good music, I trust her.
And then I ended up in fron of my laptop writing this.
It’s not my fault, it’s all because of some people (evaristo among them) that turned me into this…blame them.
Good night
janos
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