Mr Wolf

evidently you do not enter into the poetic vision of the 2 directors, aside from the fact that there are exhilarating pieces of direction and for those who love cinema, for those who watch but do not see, it can remain an indigent film...

everything is expressible, but with a minimum of discretion, which you lack, dear "catholic girl" Fabia; your criticisms make no sense

At the time of Caravaggio, they deemed his paintings ugly because they were too raw, depicting figures of the common people. Those making some comments above should know that we are in 2010...

Those who love cinema cannot overlook Ciprì and Maresco; the others (those from some comments) are just "aesthetes" without substance...

Fabiuccia, I remind you that even the unparalleled Dostoevsky is published by Mondadori... there’s absolutely nothing trivial in Miller, so before criticizing, learn to read. "If a young person asked me if it’s worth reading Miller, I would tell them it’s better to dedicate their time and energy to Faulkner, Dostoevsky, Kafka, and others." I would tell them to read as much as possible if they are interested in literature, and not to forget a sensitive author like Miller!

Do you like this, Fabietta? "Woman's vomit"

We were about 14 years old, I,
Baldy and Norman,
sitting in the neighborhood park
drinking stolen beer
around ten at night.

Then we saw a car pull up
to the sidewalk.
The door opened and a woman
leaned out and vomited
in the street.
She let out quite a
load.
She stayed there for a while.
Then she got out of the car
and headed into the
park.
Wobbling
a little.

“She’s drunk,” said
Norman. “Let’s fuck her.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” Baldy said.

She was moving
through the park
unstable.
She was hefty
but young,
nice tits,
nice legs,
teetering on
high heels.

“I’m gonna get her,”
Baldy said.

“I’m gonna get her,”
Norman said.

Then she saw us
sitting on the bench.

“Oh,” she said.

She came closer,
stunned.

“Oh, you’re just
nice boys…”

“How about a drink,
baby?” asked
Norman.

“Oh no, I’ve had
too much, I feel
like shit, I
fought with my
man…”

She swayed
in the moonlight.

“What does he have
that I don’t have?”
Norman asked.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Come here, baby,
I’ve got something to
show you,”
Baldy said.

“I’m leaving,”
she said
and turned to
walk away.

Baldy jumped up
(half-drunk)
to follow her.

“I’ve got something
for you, baby.”

The woman started
running
and Baldy
followed.

When he tried
to grab her,
he missed, bumped
into her big
buttocks and fell
into the grass.

The woman reached
the car,
started it up, and
disappeared down
the road.

Baldy
came back
walking
towards us.

“Shit, what a bitch.”

He sat with us
on the bench,
grabbed his can
and threw back
a large gulp.

“She wanted it,
oh yes, she
wanted it,” he said.

“You’ve got guts,
Baldy,” I said.

“Do you think
she’ll come back?” asked
Norman.

“Sure,” Baldy said.
“She wants this
big bird I’ve got in my pocket.”

I don’t think any of us
thought we’d see her return
but we sat there
drinking beer
and waiting.

We were all
virgins
but back then we felt
like wonders
sitting there smoking,
emptying cans of
beer.

Later, we’d all
go home to
masturbate
thinking about the woman
in the park,
kissing her whiskey mouth,
her long legs
in the moonlight
while
the park fountain
spurted
water
and our parents
slept
in the other bedroom,
tired of
everything.

fabietta "simply, if a teenager asked me whether it's worth reading this book, I would recommend other, more enriching reads, that's all!" let's hope no teenager falls under your claws

When he was alive, he didn't annoy me this much, but why did he have to die???

Good album, which you describe very well... if you're interested, “Me and The Devil” is a cover of Robert Johnson, a bluesman from the '30s... for Heron, I recommend the following albums: "PIECES OF A MAN," "FREE WILL," "WINTER IN AMERICA," "FROM SOUTH AFRICA TO SOUTH CAROLINA," "REFLECTION," "MOVING TARGET," and the DVD "BLACK WAS."

From what I remember, it also seemed like bullshit to me.