Bartleboom

At my niece's Confirmation, I was the godfather. My sister gifted me a Dolce & Gabbana suit, but while I was trying it on at home to choose the shirt, I accidentally let out a liquid fart, and unfortunately, the little spray made it through my underwear and left a small brown stain on my pants. So at the Confirmation, I had to wear another outfit, older and less elegant. At the restaurant, everyone knew, but no one dared to speak openly about what had happened to avoid ruining the celebrations. How much hypocrisy...

I confess that I no longer share (more likely I didn't understand) the premises. Even though I experienced the collective hysteria of grunge live, I only discovered them a bit later, when the last remnants of the scene had already been in the shower for quite some time. And I've always liked them a lot: in my mind, they are the Clash of grunge, the perfect mix of laziness and noise. Well done discussing it.

Damn, ten years... January 2010, in a few months my life would change quite a bit!! I hug you all, dear ones, tightly. And with my hands, I gently take your hips and push you softly against my groin. Then I look into your eyes for at least a second or two. At that point, there's no need to say anything. Because I know and you surely know. Be happy as much as you can!!! :** Now and always #geenoomerda

Dear all, I haven't watched a movie in its entirety, from start to finish, for a couple of years, so my opinion may not count for much. However. I understand the criticisms, but to me, this feels like a great film. The cinematography is top-notch, and we all got there. Gosling and the actors in general are perfect in their portrayals (I would have wanted to hug Bautista tightly). Yes, okay, the story in some parts is gnè (the revolution, "more human than human" stated so didactically that it borders on ridiculous, the sea battle, which feels like something out of Terminator... and let’s face it, not everything went smoothly in the first one, right? Even the novel has its dull moments and is often endlessly boring), but what mattered for me was the experience, the feeling of having truly returned to that world, to that time, to that reality. The ruins of Las Vegas, the scene with Joi in the rain, the double kiss, the Wallace archive... Why talk about "franchise"? Is it because Jared Leto in the Italian version is dubbed by someone with a wet rag stuffed in their mouth? Now try listening to it in English.

It’s my wife's favorite cartoon. I don’t know why I think it’s trash. I mean, I acknowledge all the merits that are perfectly listed in the review and in the comments, but I really don’t think I’ve ever watched it “willingly.” In a couple of days I’ll have to watch it again: I’ll give it this last chance, then I’ll pass the ball to the kids. Best wishes to all the debasio. Peace on earth to men of good will. Except for geenoo. Because, even at Christmas, #geenoomerda.

Damn, it literally took my breath away. It seems so beautiful to me, with an intensity that is at times unbearable... Maybe it will decline with listens.

Knowing I’m blaspheming, I say: clamorously beautiful, at times unattainable, in terms of technical/graphic aspects. In the year of our Lord 2019, however, the reading has been really arduous (for me), especially in the monographic volume version: my inability to grasp so many references to current events, to the student protests of the late 1970s, to Bologna of those years, to the university environment weighs heavily. Of course, there are some striking insights, humor, and irony worthy of applause, but I can’t get a grasp on an overall picture, a narrative thread that ties together—not to mention the individual episodes, but at times even just one vignette to the next. For me, today’s reader, it’s a reading I feel is necessary, yet it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. I didn’t savor it, I didn’t live it, I wasn't passionate about it, as I had been, for example, with Pompeo.

My gosh, how much it pissed me off... I saw it in the cinema, and since then, the more I think about it, the more it drives me crazy. A continuous, never-ending, narcissistic wank fest, breeding monsters and childish behavior. I've tried to watch it again who knows how many times, and every time I wonder how anyone could actually want to see it. As far as I'm concerned, the worst Tarantino ever.

I just finished reading Inside Out, Nick Mason's biography. I'll start by saying that I didn't like it: like the vast majority of biographies I've read in recent years, it dwells on aspects that I'm really not interested in (e.g.: the tours, which may have been the coolest part of rock star life, but for readers it's more or less like being told a porn story... it takes a lot of imagination to get hard) and glosses over in a few sentences what I would really like to know (the compositional process). However, I must acknowledge that it is well-seasoned with sharp Anglo-Saxon humor, both about situations and various characters. In short, it's an altogether pleasant read, but quite dispensable. Of all the biographies I've read, I believe the best is still Lemmy's: rough to the point of being awful, but very "concrete." The worst, however, remains Iommi's, which, unfortunately, is a total bore, full of facts but entirely lacking in feeling and engagement. That said, reading Mason, it's not true what the reviewer says about the lack of success of the early works and live shows. In fact, the decision to leave Barrett behind was also dictated by the fact that the band was gaining the success they had been seeking: the live schedule was increasingly packed, as were television appearances, interviews, record label requests, etc. Simply put, Barrett had become completely unreliable: he could remain silent and still in front of the microphone for an entire concert, or respond in a surreal manner to an interviewer, react with impatience at the idea of entering a TV studio, etc... The other members were well aware that something was shifting, and on the road to success, Barrett had become a burden. The same goes for the compositional level: the band could no longer keep up with his plots, which lacked discernible structures. Like in Jugband Blues, on A Sourceful: Barrett comes into the studio and says that at a certain point he wants a brass orchestra, calls the Salvation Army, and when he finds them in the recording room, he simply says, "Let them play whatever they want." The arrival of Gilmour was precisely in response to the need for a guitarist and a singer capable of handling the increasing commitments. And the live concerts at UFO, with slide projections, all done with acid and company, seem to have been well-attended. It's true, however, that at least at this stage they were a relatively local phenomenon (around those years was a tour in the United States where they seemed like kindergarteners in front of graduates). It's also true that they released a series of shockingly unsuccessful singles in terms of sales (to the point that they decided not to release any more, practically until Dark Side), but I think "scarce success" is a different matter.