Lostinspace

Last Sunday morning, I watched this movie again, for the umpteenth time. After a few hours, I found myself, for the umpteenth time, with my tent under the Taconet (that’s the name of the hut where it’s set) watching the sun set behind the mountains. I love this movie and I can’t express an objective technical judgment: genius, melancholic, poetic, funny, hilarious. And then... and then there are the mountains of Val d'Ayas, that V-shaped profile that frames the touristy Champoluc... Sorry for the rambling, but I really had a lovely weekend. And how many farts at altitude!!

Damn, this thing about putting links in the text... You're way ahead. I lov iu. Take that!

I need to poop. A lot of poop. Tons of poop. A sea of poop. A universe of poop is pressing against the walls of my sphincter. It peeks out. Now. Help me.

Beautiful album, beautiful surprise this Israeli songwriter (!). I also discovered him on YouTube and immediately dove deeper, starting with the gorgeous stop-motion video for "Her Morning Elegance." The comparison to Nick Drake makes sense: for me, it was inevitable to juxtapose and compare him to the submerged army of his contemporary "colleagues" that populate my hard drive: Owen, Joshua Radin, Fionn Regan, Elvis Perkins, Denison Witmer, Brett Dennen, Piers Faccini, José Gonzales, Mark Kozelek, Albert Niland, Badly Drawn Boy... As I have often done for others, I look forward to the opportunity to see him live to gauge what exists beyond the studio performance. And I'm not just talking about mere vocal and instrumental technique, of course. I like the review even though, as I have often said, the track by track makes me a bit anxious... Ondarock? W Debaser! Prut!

"...about fifteen/twenty cm from the canvas?...". This sentence troubled me. I tried and found myself shattering 45 square meters of terracotta floor while attempting my first work. I think I'll follow Fiquata's advice: given the nocturnal activities of my anus and the basket full of skid-marked underwear, I believe I will open an art gallery in some alley of a small village in Liguria. Come visit me. I'm the one who paints with the winch.

Bsbgirls, do you want to go out with me? In case this nickname hides a female alliance... what do you think about polygamy?

No, no Geb.. nothing to do with Joan Of Arc. It's folk singer-songwriter music: acoustic guitar foremost, although Mike Kinsella often layers in other instruments he plays (bass, electric guitar, drums). There's plenty of stuff on YouTube. Thanks, dear. And while I’m at it, here you go.

I saw it when I was little and I shit my pants. Is that why today I’m the king of the burnout? I also remember very well the opening of the radio in the lighthouse, the fog creeping in relentlessly and the feeling of anxiety… It was a different way of doing horror, very different from today’s, which has Hostel and the like as an anthology of epic nonsense.

Last night I had some embarrassing nocturnal emissions. I dreamt that David Gilmour was mating unprotected with Chester Bennington, singing the words Nothing Else Matter over the music of Take The Time. Then a guy showed up and said, "Hi, my name is Nicola, I'm almost 18 and for the past 5 years I've only listened to your farts," and I understood that I was an important person. Then I woke up and saw the disaster. It was a shitty day.