Il_Paolo

Thank you for the "okkupazione" of my review; in this way, you increase contacts and the "movimiento," indirectly advertising my mission: not that I need it, but being narcissistic, all in all, it delights me. Speaking of occupations, I remember that in '77, or in '94 – I’m starting to confuse the years – my high school was occupied by the entire school, except for my classmate Francesca, who went to class alone because her father wanted her to; otherwise, he would kick her out of the house. I didn’t want to be a "krumiro," and indeed, I only attended the "okkupazione" for the first five minutes, just long enough to arrange things with my friends from back in the day (some of them even still around) and head off to mind our own business in another part of the school while the others occupied (by the way, all spoiled kids occupying just for the sake of occupying, not because they believed in anything). Therefore, not believing in it either, I chose to disokkupare the streets from dreams and okupare, along with the aforementioned, a classroom to chill: because okupare, I understood even then, was just another way of doing absolutely nothing. But better the "nothing nothing" than the "fake busy nothing." And it was during that time that I was craving this movie and also Attila (among others). Occupied Yours, Il_Paolo

Oops. Absolute in preferred = preferred in absolute. I think I drank. Better not to lie down.

Ah, Bon Scott. I hope you know "Beatin' around the Bush," one of my all-time favorite tracks. Be careful not to drink too much, and in any case, don't lie down right after drinking: it can have detrimental effects. Medically Yours, Il_Paolo

If you leave, I'm leaving too.

@Bonny (but are you a man or a woman? I don't understand. Clide, where are you?): the issue of my falseness, the fact that I'm not real, a living being made of flesh and bones, but a fake avatar (Rivoli, you say) is complex and simple at the same time: Muito I know him, I assure you he is a man (like me). The other supposed fakes, who might seem like females, but I can't put my hand in the fire for them, I can't say I know them (nor that I'm writing in their place). Falsely Yours, Il_Paolo

Bonny, there’s a phenomenon you underestimate: mimesis. When you love someone - and there’s no doubt that I, in a certain way, love Rivoli - you end up resembling them, writing and thinking like him or her. You do this in an attempt to bridge a connection, to be the other in order to forget you are not them. So, if I write like Rivoli, it doesn’t mean I am him. Aside from this example, think of Sandra Mondaini and Raimondo Vianello (the hair color as a sign of mimesis, in this case), once Romina and Albano (the similarly shaped butts, the synchronized dancing), Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi (the hair, the face, at least in the '70s), Sandro Bondi, Galliani, Fede, and Silvio Berlusconi. Those who resemble each other get together, my aunt used to say. No, those who get together resemble each other, in my opinion. Don't get with an idiot, or an idiotess. ST, Il_Paolo

@Lavalin: did you also have the mumps in the '90s? I had them back then too, but maybe I'm confusing things (I mean, I practically don't remember if you're really my fake! Because if you are me, I had the mumps in the '90s; if you're not me, then it was eight years earlier, but there was still the World Cup in between. Or maybe I'm dreaming that I had the mumps in '82, to make it epic about Italy's victory, but I was too young to remember back then, so I must have had them in '90, when Zenga didn't save against Caniggia. Who knows). Regarding the end of Assom, I almost mirror you in the considerations of Pete Townshend, as the lyricist of the well-known "Sally Simpson" by The Who. Regardless of that, it’s better to be at the beach with a tennis coach than on stage with and like Liga. ST, Il_Paolo

Valerio, I must confess that - as a simple user of the site - I decided to take on reviews because I was inspired by yours on "Andrea True Connection" (they will say, therefore, that I am one of your fakes; just like they say about Lavalin, Muitosaudosismo, laRock and others, not accepting the fact that one can feel the same emotions being different subjects). So your comment above, better than my review, truly validates my mission to the point that it makes me contemplate withdrawing from these pages, not something I desire, but something that seems necessary because, perhaps, beyond a certain epic, one cannot go, and that goodbyes, as happens with great bands (like The Police, but also Giuliano and the Notturni) should happen when you are at your peak, not at the bottom. However, I believe that in light of thousands of reviews on Metallica, dozens on Dream Theater or Pink Floyd or others, it would be unfair for me to stop here regarding my reflections on "minor" art - and on life, lived, sometimes - that arises from it, and I must proceed with renewed confidence in my mission. These days I have to unpack the trolley and tidy up the garden because the grass is high, and I should prune the apple tree, but I promise you that over the weekend - I finally have a Saturday free to relax, without having to attend mojito parties or water fights!!!! - I will find the Inspiration to still be here, with You and for You, but also with You all and, above all, for You all. Sisyphusically Yours, Il_Paolo

Today, in the car, a friend of mine made me listen to them (absurd!). They're not bad; however, I'm not really into the growl of these and other bands.

Iride, today you're acidic. Don't touch me. Contemplation, he's a kid - as they say in his neck of the woods - just charming enough and sharp (although, Conte, I can hardly imagine what it's like to live with you: watch out when your girl (re)starts smoking and tells you "L., I'm stepping out for a second to grab some cigarettes"). @Bartle: the SUV belongs to my father, the A3 is from the company. I actually don’t have a real job; I help others and try to fit into the family business (basically, I have a small package of shares that allows me to live, almost, off dividends; being the youngest in the family, with older siblings who help dad). Autobiographically Yours, Il_Paolo