I am reminded of a new piece of Massimo Volume, where at one point and some reason says "the awareness that life could easily be represented in a simple picture beach". Or something like that ... now there are cocks to control.
More or less sober I've played this thing in here the other night in a bar. Thank you, and will never be enough, Sergio Ramos and Bruno who have accompanied me musically, so the words are heard less well. I let them witness, because sometimes you just reveal your false modesty.
I learned from the second film of Hitchcock Francois Truffaut, Louis Ferdinand Céline that divided people into two categories, exhibitionists and voyuers. Alas I think I'm one of the first and still retain the desire to be among the second
Good excuses
Shortly before disappearing when you came to me. "I'm writing a novel, I thought of titled 'Good excuse'"
consegnasti Before you leave me a sheet of recycled paper. It said roughly so:
"These are days that I wake up in the wrong
full of dreams that I miss now I can not hold
During the day images in my mind,
avoids answering in some cases.
When I come home do not think I turn on the TV: there's a man with
his son are in a beach
the child shakes his fist in the sand
and shows his father that he can not hold her,
but her father is distracted
overlooking the sea in search of something, perhaps a sail in the distance, but could not find
: only the quiet movement wave
a sunny winter afternoon.
Then he turns to his son
unnecessarily tightening the fist,
smiles at him, but it seems to lie.
I am a quiet street full of patches and
Another step and jump in the air
Another step and jump in the air
Another step and jump in the air "Then non
t 'I have seen.
I watched only by the death of my generation, but I did not feel anger or despair or confusion.
I was at your house after your death, I searched all over the paper where I wrote it, but there' was nothing; between shelves, in every closet, even in the kitchen. But there was nothing. The tapes were all empty except one: rewound the tape and heard the sound of your guitar. Suddenly he shouted something and you distorted the sound of your guitar is distorted and you yelled something, but it was not clear what you said. You screamed but no one understood what you said.
[you said "it feels like I hammered from the inside", your stories of love, we fall, we are in the hands of Nazi?; Aspirations to invade our middle class suburbs, you do something, you something for God! Why is your best excuse ready]
