The Cure
Disintegration

The darkness, as darkness, is the opposite of consolation. The light, as light, warms, and it might be that. History teaches us that the conditional and hypotheses often go hand in hand to be blessed. And if they cling to each other, you're in for it.

Have you ever experienced nostalgia, the thickest, the unexpected kind? Not the one that matures. The one that matures gives you the chance to expiate it in advance.

Or: going against the wind is not like going against a breeze. The first can be a pain, the second a pure pleasure surge.

And again: take "Homesick" by the Cure and "Nostalgia Canaglia" by Al Bano. Stop right there, stop! This is the definitive crossroads for the human race. Choose your side! Because we cannot metabolize nostalgia in both ways. Submit to judgment, make a vow of truth. Which side are you on?

Lying down, let nostalgia soak into your brain. Decide to immerse yourself. "Homesick" or "Nostalgia Canaglia"? I, for example, pleasantly immerse myself in the light-dark contradiction offered by Robert. I eat peanuts... ah, no in those minutes my stomach closes. I was saying: after, a few minutes later, I eat peanuts and throw the shells at those on the other side, and laugh. And 'catch you when you don't know', just as our nostalgic friend sings.

Robert Smith is a playful fool. You arrive, you sit down, you let "Plainsong" accompany the celebrant's entry with a full procession. Altar boys, deacons, so to speak. Always dark, huh. At least a dim light.

Then patience is needed, because ours also wants to go on a picnic with a packed lunch, "Pictures Of You" teaches, but calm down little Robert, we know, find your dimension, "Lullaby", goodnight to the musicians.

But you know, there are those who listen. By what right do you engulf generations and drag them into your nightmares? Oh, but then it's better Al Bano. He gives nostalgia, a kick in the ass, to that rascal. That bastard.

Not you, you have to be sophisticated. "The Same Deep Water As You" is an injection of confidence for those who feel the collapse coming and initially want to give up, but hesitate, and then you come along and bam! No more prayers for rain. Pray for us! Because the mass is not over, reverend, at least not until you start "Untitled", and it's right to call it that: it speaks for three, it also speaks for you, why would you even want to give it a title?

I come along in a wheelchair, Rob, indeed. You've cut off my legs with "Homesick", I arrive in a wheelchair or crawling, now we'll see. You fool.

Then try to explain to Al Bano that the rascal is not nostalgia, the rascal is whoever claims to rise and believes that the truth passes through "Disintegration", 1969, 1989, or it will be 2009 but who cares, do you think?

I don't want to know anything about this affair. Leave me out of it. I disguise myself, cross over to the other side. Albà, will you take me instead of Romina to duet?

If occasionally, in the darkness, I sit on a swing and cry, gently swaying, it's just that fool Smith, "Homesick", things from same deep water, and then you produce excellent wine.

And then Robert, go on a Dukan or tisane diet and leave us alone. You're getting as fat as a pig. For heaven's sake.