Alan Sorrenti-Sienteme it's time to land-1976

There comes a time in everyone's life to land... It's not nice to feel like a Vidal horse running in slow motion along the Maccarese-Fregene seashore... Ruggerooo watch out with that big mustache and the hashish Sienteme hippie' I see you tripping, dazed, scheming--- it's time to land, ca nisciune è meje'natre, we belong to the same race..

And you, Patrizia with that swimsuit, you can see everything, and then I would be the usual early-rising stallion.

The records from that period haunt me, what do they want from me? They look at me and say why don't you sienteme... and it's not my fault that the only heavenly corner a few km from the capital is this and I come here to detox a bit, among televisions knocked over like buffaloes on the sand, rotten bottles with a clear message, beach guitars, soft clocks, Dalí's mustaches, and why not, carcasses of songs. Today I make clams for a spaghetti dish, I'm a clam picker instead of jogging no gym- and agriculture languishes -: last week I even caught a nice turbot. Another time even an old, huge flying fish... that jumps at you when a storm is brewing.

Those prehistoric scales in the sun, the cataract in radioactive eyes, it looked like a Coelacanth, the fossil fish, with the dead eyes of time, with its atrophied little arms and legs from a former terrestrial animal-

But this one had two superb wings, it lacked only speech. But the bird is beyond being a sexualis symbol, it's the mysterious symbol of the soul. And of Mercury the psychopomp.

It looks at me askance, its silvery scales the luminescent tattoos of time as if to say don't delude yourself, I've been here on earth before you, I've seen dinosaurs, fossils, the meteorite, the oil, and thanks to us dead fish, you can say with API you fly. Today there's even a gas station strike, I tell it telepathically. I let it go, it's too beautiful, I can't cook it.

Years ago when I used to sell CDs at Fregene to pay for my vacations, then yes, you could make some money with music. Today I'd say: allow me miss, with the gas pump in hand, Have you filled it up? With what? With music. What did you understand, an MP3 recharge? then the gas stations strike, you know; and don't look, I have all the knowledge on this 200-gigabyte hard drive, give me half a kg of clams I prefer them.

I am walking in a nowhere land by the sea, everything is out of focus in a CINEON model GBR 1977, in short flashes... the one with Instamatic with the cube-flash of magnesium that turned like a lighthouse after the lever reset.

Who knows why in dreams, in memories, under psychotropics, images are rarely clear, but they are reflected waves... Now I pass in front of the rotunda of an old bathing establishment, it was cobalt blue, sea blue,...now light blue like a Gozzano pot... I think of Children of the Stars - and Try to imagine is from the year before and resembles it a lot- and how much fun I had back then, my blue period, blue school, blue establishment, and even a blue bubble bath -BLUE Line? that the family physician gave me for the unbearable itch of varicella blisters.

Mmmh it was algae-based, who knows what it was called. Does anyone remember? and, it resembles my same sea this album with Miami beach on the cover, and Sorrenti with walrus mustache: the album is imbued with Caribbean rhythms, mock-hustle and salsoul, with remnants of Tim Buckley-style folk psychedelia. It's nice to sprawl on pools and cocktails in full reflux, and Sorrenti had seen long mustaches.

Alan found his Atlantis in America, ISLAND QUEEN, SEAGULL SONG, in the seventies. I'm still looking for it.Music for old animals, you know. The Blackbeard had predicted Sirius culminating with the Sun, it will be a sultry July, albeit rainy...

Eloquent titles, right?

SIENTEME, IT'S TIME TO LAND, ALBA, THE PRISONER AND THE DANCER, SIENTEME TRY TO IMAGINE SLIDING ON THE WIRE LISTEN YOUR LOVE IS MAGIC

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