(Sans Titre)

Her: How...how did it happen?
Me: Well, i was in Lasko and...
Her: Ok, understood.

To the ten thousandth visitor who came by last night

Reading the punctuation in my old posts is like dying a small death.
And i don't mean that in the good way.

There is no solution because there is no problem

"The content or importance of a painting cannot be evaluated with words. No language can be found to speak about painting. Painting is a language in itself. One form of expression cannot be translated by another form of expression. To say the least the original message will be completely distorted, no matter what one wants to say about it."

-M. Duchamp, in A. Schwarz, 1969

"Writing about music is like dancing about architecture"

-F. Zappa, attrib.

(this last quote may also have been said by anyone ranging between Clara Schumann and Steve Martin, but in this context it is nice to believe it was Zappa)

Lasko-bound

In less than an hour, i will be leaving for the Lasko Festival. For those not in the know, this is something like that pamplona bulls thing but with beer instead of the bulls.
I don't really have a very clear idea about where (or even if) i'll be waking up in the next couple of days, but that doesn't really matter. As always, my last will and testament is in a .txt file on my desktop should the need arise.
Updates are, however, to be expected.

Undescribable.

We interrupt the awkward silence to post three pictures of an object my mother found at the top of a donated book bin, and deemed too good for charity thus bringing it home for all to appreciate.



This pocket-sized booklet, filled to the brim of useful tips for a saintly lifestyle, was printed in Boston(USA) in 1909. The first edition, however, dates back to 1887. This is the fourth reprint.

Here's a closeup of the central symbol. I sure hope the text within delivers all it's promising.



Much as it's fun to mock this thing, i can't help noticing how beautiful the cover layout is. And the exterior's texture has a certain endearing quality to it.

And finally, i decided to accompany all this beauty with yet another fallen myth. This fake red army insignia pin was given to me by someone who actually believed it to be genuine. It's visibly in good company now.

Yes, the french aren't our only problem

At the supermarket counter, yesterday afternoon. The players: Myself, confused blonde girl in front of me.

Me: Scusi, Lei è in fila?
Her: ... (blank stare)
Me: Are you in this queue?
Her: I...I don't know...
Me: Are you from the United States?
Her: Yes.
Me: Oh, i'm so, so sorry.

So i passed her by and went on to pay.

The Weekend Something-Or-Other

i finally set up a little page to keep available downloads tidy: here it is. I'll be leaning stuff there temporarily, usually for a week or so etc. Things here will continue regularly with mp3s being offered any time i have an excuse to, but they'll be mirrored there for clarity.

Also, i'd recently been thinking of switching from Haloscan's comment system to Blogger's built-in one, because Haloscan only held messages for six months. But now they've decided to make them permanent and all old comments are back, so Halocan stays. Which is good, because blogspot's comments get tons of spam and would have needed moderation, something i'm too lazy to cope with.

And finally, check out these beautiful pictures of Gato from Babsi's Travelogue.

Goodbye Rose

We'll miss you.

Who says the best punchlines are taken?

Her: Are you single?
Him: No.
Her: Where's your girlfriend right now?
Him: I can't disclose this information.
Her: Robin, are you single?
Me: Yes.
Her: Why?
Me: Fuck you.

There's always a first time.

Home, evening. Personnages: Mother, myself.

me: I'm taking the car.
her: Sure, where are you going?
me: Just to a birthday in monfalcone, maybe somewhere alse afterwards if things get boring.
(long pause)
Good lord, i actually just told the truth.

Doubts extrapolated from a notebook

They say [Matta interviewed by Cecilia Sredni de Birbragher, Revista Nexus, Bogotà Jan/Mar 1998] that if you take a chicken and draw a line on the ground in front of it with a piece of chalk, it'll stay there and won't move until something else happens.
So, i wonder, what would happen if you did the same thing with a human, say, with an old lady? If while she's walking in the street you just run over and mark a line on the ground in front of her? Will she also stand there until something else happens, not knowing what to do? Or would she carefully try to walk around the line?
In a perfect world i'd stand next to her, pull a gun out and shoot in the air.
And watch her sprint.

Hand

Detail of spontaneous collective ouvre (now destroyed).
Former mental institute of San Giovanni(TS), 21.06.06