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Rating: Show off.
And hold your ground.
This has been going on for too long and you know it constantly evolves. It follows your psycho-physical development step by step and moves further away from the right hemisphere and the internal area of the liver (the one that goes gnè) which rightly said no. The referendum won't be tricked unless you ditch the satisfaction.
Study the look of the damned hunchbacks. The true metalheads have looked at you with bafflement for three years and more, yet you're sure you can screw them over whenever you want; the relationship between the parties is infamous, as if John Holmes wanted to sodomize a cat, the pain would be too strong for the part that plays the woman (the true metalhead). You're sure that the metal bands (those few metal bands worth listening to) you hold are absolutely better than the guy who was on Corso Mazzini this morning, and you automatically, when you saw him, mentally likened a CD in front of his eyes, a hundred CDs, a thousand CDs better than his, the CD challenge at the sight of one of them. It doesn't matter if he has a hot girlfriend, envy doesn’t exist in the world of forward km. Even of the one who this morning at Carlo's was rummaging through the noise CDs. The one holding Goat by Jesus Lizard with that expression you know, of someone who doesn’t quite know what they're getting into, but has known people who pushed them beyond the precipice with a boiling sexual background. You can see on his face that he has confused ideas, you know the feeling, you went through it before him.
You look at him, you look at Carlo. You sigh, you shout "IN THE WELL!", Carlo goes "BOOOOM!", the metallic in crisis would like to cry but badly puts away the CD waiting for the best opportunity, when there's no one in the store to synergize the anti-bull defense system.
He is not right. He remained there, on the hill before the precipice with the sexual background, he lives alone and no one pushed him beyond the mound. He will stay there and cultivate his horned eggplants, eating kiwis without peeling them for a long time, you lost the chance of a lifetime and the balls weren't seen.
And don't bring up the Pink Floyd excuse. It's not possible that a fool whose only wise use is as a wandering coat rack comes to tell me I listen to metal but I love albums like The Wall, Wish You Were Here, and The Dark Side Of The Moon, so I know
. Damn Diesel I’ll kill you. I swear it happened to me, the average jerk said so, he claims to know about music. Had he mentioned Piper I might have spared the knee, but he didn’t.
This phrase, now becoming a status among "metal companies" (true metal to be clear) serves to extract themselves from the bituminous mess in which coat racks are submerged when talking about music is defined as obtuse, with too many studs and a naughty ear that just wants THAT THAT THAT.
Always take everything that comes. Don’t attach to a status. Be like my sister. If she goes to the bakery she gets bread, but also gummy candies, croissants, and especially the guy’s dick behind the counter. In the same way, you should do that, yes you, with the constantly crusted wet nose walking like Anselmo in the period between "Reinventing The Steel" and "Use Once And Destroy", stripping down in winter but wearing loafers (as good Philippo taught for years, Hail the loafer with bermuda shorts that is very sludge, even if YOU don’t know sludge, fools). You are short, you will die without having known the Can, the Mahavishnu Orchestra, the Amon Düül, Asva and Sunn0))). I tried, I spent money and I got lucky, life smiled at me and let me discover 3 (but also 4-5 at times) Japanese who put chaos and whimsy in music (still derived to be clear). A group that jumps around like laughing, from the gay and boring mantras of "Mantra Of Love", to the sincere chaos of "Stone Women Record" to this big disk, perhaps the most difficult and noisy, even if the most pissy.
Good bananas to everyone, not forgetting to appreciate that naughty Joe Fucking Preston.
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