On the desk of my adolescence, the same desk I saw the star of strenuous and improbable translation from the greek, it is currently positioned as a changing table surrounded by colorful antiarrosamento creams, solutions for the pediatric nose, scissors, and some termometrino pile of diapers, and right next to my beloved coffee machine rossofiammante espresso stands a bottle sterilizer that, although a pure white color, and manages to steal the scene to embarrass the first for the extravagant size and rounded, each morning, as an annex to the regular garbage bag, now there is always a blue and fragrant (I mean at the time of 'purchase of course) Lemon containing five to ten diapers used.
As I reflect on the Copernican revolution of my everyday life I hear a series of remixes of "All the love I" leaving surprising, a little later, the high volume of cases, I must have lifted automatically, knowing that my family at this time is out home. When will older Samu love dance music like her dad, I know. As the father has loved her for years past and now, from time to time, still listens to making a wink.
Each year, the usual hassle ... New Year's Eve! I state that I have always been free from all party animal instinct at all costs! For years I worked the evening of December 31 in some theater, and made a quick toast with colleagues, racing to bed to rest for the recitation of January 1! Since my life has become more "normal" here to peep the problem of the end of the year, every time you solve the last: a dinner with friends, many, few, maybe a trip to town, an evening Two more special ... This time, a wish I would have! I would like to experience a New Year in Tokyo! One thing fast but well organized! Here's the schedule: starting December 30 in the evening, so arrive seven hours ahead of time and not lose! So much of the rest in the hotel zone (perhaps at the Park Hyatt just not to miss anything!) And then off in the city! Mmmmmh the first What to do? Asakusa, stroll among the stalls of the market, says the temple, to see how it will be 2011, and then a bit of relaxation Jakotsu yu onsen which is nearby! Then metro to Ikebukuro, dall'omino half hour massage and then shopping at Tokyu Hands, all those wonderful things that are useless here! Meanwhile, it is almost time for dinner so better get back to the hotel in Shinjuku! On where to eat I still have some doubt, the very cool restaurant in the hotel with superb views of the city or just the usual Sushizanmai the fish market? Dunno, you could make a super cool cocktail in the hotel and suitably dressed up with something more simple then go for a feast of sushi and ... midnight? A Shibuya, of course, in the midst of the world's busiest crossroads in the midst of millions of people, including lost! While we're here you could make a leap into a disk Truzzi among those we have back there or in Roppongi! The January 1 is an important moment, is the first glimpse of the new year and you can not go to sleep! We should do all the good things that we do throughout the year and spend it with loved ones! We must start with a prayer, or at least most intimate thoughts. No matter who or how we believe, a temple, a church, a statue ... it's the same thing, so I'll visit a temple, as is used here in the first year, but not in Tokyo! I want to go to see Mount Fuji in the snow, get into a small temple and light incense, and then take a walk with snowshoes on snow-covered slopes and search for a natural onsen in the woods in which to throw a hot bath, in silence ... I wonder how it will smell the cold, dry mountain air mixed with steam from the ferruginous ... Here comes the dark early, it is time to go down ... down to earth!
I do not write for three months, almost the length a blink of an eye after dividing the first from a lifetime ago for a lifetime is the time it takes me noticing the new things that make me a bit 'older and the usual things that ever have assumed a new and largely unexpected. Sometimes I think about the people in my life as a kind of engines, turbines, perhaps, running at different speeds and different directions that impress my actions and my thoughts, my everyday life then get the speed and direction resulting from these different forces, some of which are opposed, others more or less aligned. Samuel came to kick-powerful and decisive, dictating to my everyday life a new direction and intensity, I could not foresee and to which I am still struggling to respond. I do not know if I will return to write constantly, and now I feel like this small window, a small note, a kind of travel record, before diving back into this incredible thing that's happening to me.
Every now and then I digress and I know I speak on the other, mountains, princesses waiting for the kiss of spring trapped in a cascade of ice, clouds and floating souls. But tonight I will try to tell again something about Japan, a Japan that I have seen in my travels, a history of other times but I know by heart, a story of a screen sticker paper parasols and, at least in the imagination of the beginnings of this century. E 'Japan among the notes written by Giacomo Puccini, who did not go over there but never tells an unforgettable story, tender and terrible, that the little geisha Cio Cio San, Madama Butterfly alias. I'm afraid to talk about why I'm not at work but it is a story that is close to my heart and is one of the most beautiful music ever written for the opera house. That scoundrel Puccini knew how to touch his audience and, as a perfect mechanism, his music is a bomb capable of hitting consistently today the nervous system of the listener even more cynical. I am not cynical, and every time I let rip and to tear this sublime music, be it a test at the piano, is a cd or above the mink in the theater, as has happened to me yesterday. It 's crazy, the history of the lesser butterfly you know by heart, a child bride sold for 100 yen American officer Pinkerton, who uses it as a toy and mocked her and her culture, waiting for the day when they will marry a REAL American wife! Yet every time you hope that there is not as shit ... but no, the bride and seduces her even though she has only fifteen years, says empty words while she sings her sublime love and then leaves, promising to return in the season when the robin makes the litter ... Passaniti Butterfly waits three years and still fighting for her love against all those that say he does not returns. But she waits with her little baby, born of the rape and which ignores the existence Pinkerton. And then he comes back ... but not to her, returns with his American wife and does not even have the balls to be seen and tell him personally but knew of a child, if it takes a while no Cio Cio San that is suicide. Damn, Puccini women in the work-and perhaps a little too into his private life, has just treated badly in the name of love, but this time with overstates and exaggerates the beauty of music with which it does! The usual story-opera she loves him, he loves her, not here! And 'to love one-way Butterfly, from the melodies to shudder when Pinkerton asks tenderly loving her "a little love, love a baby ..." Pinkerton responds only with the senses, with the desire to have that pretty little toy that you buy, and despite the warnings of his friend (mind you, she believes ") are pleased of his instincts. Butterfly's love is pure and sincere, is that of a grown child who does everything to please her husband, a stubborn love the edge of madness ... but may not want to understand with what a person has to What to do? Yet every When his cry of pain is killing me, the theater falls silent and leaves us all stunned by its eternal relevance. Especially when you see that this sublime music creates a sense of stark contrast in a scene imagined today, in which Butterfly has become one of the many daughters of sex tourism object sings "Fresh Prince Of Bel" in jeans and a shirt of Hello Kitty, imagining the return of Pinkerton locked in a showcase home for her games that overlap with those of his son. I care about the love of Butterfly and the pain on the scene a while I experienced it myself. A few years ago in a previous more traditional setting at the Teatro Regio, imagined as a mime-dancer in a kind of personification of its objects (The fan, the pipe, the mirror etc ...). In the end I was to give her the knife to kill himself ... God that anxiety! Every evening after all the tears behind the scenes already paid along with a large group of seamstresses, teachers, technicians, etc. .. I entered the scene, sobbing, fortunately, his face covered by a black veil, feeling all the tension of the moment and the same interpretation of Butterfly that made that moment more so than ever ... But the theater is a madhouse from weak nerves or the magical place where love is expressed in all its facets through art is the most sublime music? tell me you do not know why I am biased, but before we do close your eyes and listen to the voice of Butterfly waiting for the return of Pinkerton's return of Life ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVRhuQWS4tc
I often listen to this song recently. E 'Sinead O'Connor, artist, among other things, that I have always appreciated since the days of "Nothing compares to you". This song is called "A New Born Child" ("A newborn baby"). What do you want, yes, my thoughts are always there, our little Samuel, if it respects the exact time will come to know us in 30 days. This song, very sweet, it's also a soundtrack for a documentary film entitled "The first breath", which describes the experiences of childbirth in different cultures. My wife and I we looked at a few weeks ago. Very interesting. Also very exciting for us.
Independence Way, Gaeta. Deciding to cross it is a bit 'take a vacation from the usual and ordinary, a bit' like diving in a tropical aquarium and remain in apnea for a good half hour. E 'colored via Independence. Colorful and sometimes noisy. Old houses and old stones covered by a renewed vitality of everyday people and stories. Always the same, always different. They are the elderly and their hope to sell four figs in a number of wooden boxes at the corner of the alley, they are young mothers with children after a stranger and just bought the new toy that already do not like most, are the men of the place front of the bar that trace in the dialect's soccer game yesterday, you are vucumprà link and scrutinize your behavior away from trying to anticipate your taste in socks. There is a veil of religiosity that hangs along the road. One of the niches in the walls with holy imprisoned behind bars and the oaths of adolescents that will emerge in their shirts before chasing the "Cashier" and "Ibrahimovic". I love this street. The other day I tried to capture some glimpses. But do not you will ever do enough justice.
just returned from a "fuitina" to the sea, one that you just beat it, that you feel you must do at any cost, because you do not know when it happen again looked so clear, with these colors of sky and sea \u200b\u200bthat are cool hues of watercolor. My wife and I, her eyes shining with teenage sweethearts from the sketches of the foamy waves and a belly, beautiful, round, smooth, remember the promise of love that is already there, at hand and some crazy around d ' clock.
Giving birth to a new major project and while working to create a human being is not easy. In fact the second commitment I might even be relieved, let's face it, especially my wife who will do his part, but the mind is always there and you realize quickly that emotional commitment is still real and at times exhausting. Give life. Expression that airy, fresh and generous. Welcome to the Natural Park "Give Life", or Wellness Center "Give Life", or "From Revita" if you drink and if magna. So called all the places where you can enjoy beautiful things and simple, like a panorama, a scented massage, a plate of spaghetti all'amatriciana.
Climbing is a bit like a couple dancing a pas de deux on a stage ... vertical. Strange pas de deux in which they dance in turn, mostly alone, and meeting only for brief moments on the climb. Perhaps a more intimate dance in which even the music is made of silence and physical contact is sublimated ... remain the confidence, rhythm, balance, fear, emotion and beauty.
The Beauty ... already! ... The rock does not reflect the 'image ... how wonderful not having to deal with their image to be what others consider beautiful! When calling the soul takes flight for a short time and emotions become clouds that float in silence read cold air. The feeling you can breathe in the steam and dry that sometimes envelops you, and the body (heavy) becomes a means to the soul (light).
Maybe the clouds are formed by the emotions of those who want to touch the sky? The world below seems so far away with his racket! Yet it is always there, ready to call you with its weight when it gets to the top. But then the clouds hold in there a little bit of soul who reaches them?
Every time I try to bring down a bit 'of emotion but I can not! Every time I feel the weight through the breath leaves me and I can not hold your breath! I smile every time I touch the ground, and for a brief moment, I'm pretty !
I have seen these players wear shirts in Serie A with "Football is fun." A little 'as if Paris Hilton wore a t-shirt (wet) with the inscription "The success I do not care" or as if Berlusconi fails to report to the Council of Ministers with a polo shirt bearing the phrase "Money does not bring happiness." These initiatives are obscene, that offend me and that troubles me. I find it disturbing that a young boy watching his football idol should be answered (and will not succeed) the cognitive conflict "my myth earns several million" - "my myth tells me to think just to have fun (so do not try to be like him)." In all this there is an immoral and anti-educational contradiction in terms. Would make more sense if the kid above saw the same shirt worn by older boys amateur team in the country: this is perhaps the message would be its consistency and its reason to exist.
Last night we watched this film by Salvatores. Original, unexpected, outside the usual patterns films. I found a keen interest in the monotony a little 'single issue of the Italian cinema of recent times. Among the many things I really liked this short monologue Fabio De Luigi on fear at the very beginning of the film.
marital cleaning company this morning. My wife to brooms and mops, rags I climbed on to the chandeliers. It 'nice to occasionally look at their house from an aerial perspective. As a teenager adopted this technique in times of crisis. Usually I shut the bathroom and climbed up on the edge of the tub. Simply look at things from a different angle often helped me find a solution or at least a new interpretation. A little trick that worked. A little 'as when Then, from large, finding it difficult to make a pasture full of cow poop I suppose Clarification agent. Again, this always works.
"Wash" - Part II (Wash me Wash me say That You bathe me)
Now to wash itself. The first advice I give is to start from the top, hood so to speak. In doing so, in fact, that remove dirt will end up along the sides of the machine, which shall wash them later by determining the final fall of the impurity to its destination final, the ground. If you have a medium to large size car will be good to use at this stage, the broom was already mentioned in the initial section of this guide, when you list the material. The broom, in fact, allows you to reach the central parts of the roof of your car, if you try to get there stubbornly with the only arms you'll end up hanging over the side of the car, his clothes dripping wet, from the sneers of neighbors who do not then lose the chance to tell your bar very specific sexual preferences. The rest of the car but you can easily wash it with the towel and there are no special instructions on the sequence of the sides. From this point on you a little ' you also follow the instinct, otherwise I end up actually writing a guide! Here, put a little 'fantasy that never hurts. Maybe not like that time when throwing a nice bucket of water I lost sight in the back seat for leaving a window open here, maybe not this kind of fantasy, but have fun and save some € that really bad these days not hurt.
For sure the car is the place where I get the best thoughts. In motion I mean, when I go somewhere, is not going down at home to close in a parked vehicle to think about life or a clever solution to avoid paying bills. Then imagine in this heat. The car in motion is something else entirely. With the window open and the air that I get in my face or in the Supreme Goduria shivering from air conditioning, this is the situation here is what I meant. Why are the best thoughts come plentiful but we need another condition: that it is alone in the car. Oh sometimes it happened that one of these to reach me while I was in the company. With my wife for example. But I do not remember thinking it was, his voice calling me repeatedly with more and more sadistic tone down to bring me back to reality, that means that I remember. In any case, it is rather rare episodes. As I said there's usually the best when I'm driving alone. Along the way I do every day, Gaeta-Funds-Funds, gives birth to the Over-the-top thoughts. And do not use in case the word "give birth" because they ultimately do the wonderful thoughts on Samuel "Over-the-top" instead is a bit 'more casual, mostly linked to memories of teen movies. In recent weeks, then I'm giving my best. Just a suitable soundtrack ("soundtrack" for whoever knows little English, "the music that you hear at the movies" for those with Italian tries to make us the balloons) and my mind flies high. But flying so high and fast that sometimes I get tempted to give me a ride, especially when those queues are formed in kilometers that on balance going to gain those walking 20-25 minutes. But "accounts" and "earn" are not very well together in a sentence produced by me in these times. You see that I am not thinking in the car. However, what I really wanted to say is that since now I recognize my car as a privileged place for the mental productions, today I decided to look after and wash. Now, for those used to bring the car wash your car as tell you soon will be of little interest to the best cases, a fantasy tale in cases slightly worse.
Theories and techniques of cleaning do-it-yourself car large.
Material: shampoo car (but it's good enough for the hair, preferably anti-dandruff), sponge (usatene one reserved for the specific purpose to avoid unpleasant itching in the shower), hand (preferably with long hairs), and water at will. On balance the cost of a washing equipment to the range from 0.5 cents to 1 €, including water consumption, excluding start-up costs for the purchase of products. I am very lucky because I can use running water through a hose, but the result is also obtained by bucket. Of course it will take a little 'longer. The clothing of the car washers do-it-yourself is crucial. In summer, the experience will be vastly more pleasant wearing the bare minimum of respect for public morality. It is true that by choosing the coolest hours of the day you will also face the added risk that mosquitoes will not lose this opportunity to poke your polpaccetti wetted by water. In the colder periods of the year select only sunny days to avoid freezing of the limbs. In the case of irrevocable need to wash your car in cold days, carry a bottle of rum or other alcohol content spirits of your liking. In this case, keep it well away from the bottle of shampoo. If you inadvertently used rum instead of shampoo, rinse immediately with plenty of water on the body or pour two buckets of pear juice. Depending on your taste. In case you have accidentally ingested anti-dandruff shampoo, proceed to the nearest emergency room or, if you have small children, to improvise a show of bubbles until all the liquid in the body. If you are a smoker the procedure to make beautiful and durable bubbles is the same as that used for making rings of smoke.
Nicolas and Chloe and her parents, seduction and deception
Two films on which to spend a few words before the arrival of August 8: "The little Nicolas and his parents" and "Chloe, seduction and deceit."
The first (original title "Le petit Nicolas", just to clarify just where to drop the accent of the name) is a bright side of the Alps on the world of comedy in which the young actors express all their so cool and amazing ingenuity, but also those little inner adults that emerge in forms and amusing caricatures. A kind of comedy that I really like, a little 'to "Amelie" for instance. Reflecting a bit 'in the margin: I hope so much that Sam Uele never have to live a relationship of submission with the girls the same age as is the case with Nicolas!
another story, another gender, another world, the second film. A story with a sensational love passionately about morbid, obsessive, perverse. A wealthy upper-class family and suspicions of betrayal of his wife. Amid bursts Chloe, a prostitute fragile, beautiful, complicated, perverse and ingenious. Perhaps love. That is willing to do anything. She is Liam Neeson, already seen in "Mamma Mia!". Here he plays a completely different character, whose personality, controversial and never fully revealed, are the best thing about the film.
While persevering in the willful failure to pronounce his surname (Optezek, Opzetek Excalibur ... idiot!) I always find his films interesting, the kind that leave you something, even if often do not know quite what, but maybe that's where the beauty of the thing. The Ignorant Fairies, The window overlooked, Sacred Heart, Saturn ... and against the penutlimo, A Perfect Day, which perhaps did not have the resonance of the above but I loved it ... so Ferzan (the name is easier) does not miss a movie. Many have criticized the "Loose Cannons" in being the umpteenth story about homosexuality, on which Italian cinema seems to be doing too much leverage. Can I partially agree, but it is true that Ferzan (my friend Ferzan) never falls into banality and cliche. Unfortunately, I still associate the cinema Scamarcio "brat" of its inception, but I must say that during the film I made good progress in my attempt to redeem dichari. I loved the ending, which will not reveal for those hundred thousand readers of my blog who have not seen yet. Good evening, tonight I am going to see a show of Rion.
to be near someone in a difficult time it is also necessary between you and this time there is room, light, distance. To be able to watch, point and just decide to get closer. But what happened to me overwhelmed, overrun as it happened to me and not others, my life and not to those of two of my dear friends. Too strong empathy, too intense an experience sharing. And then the pain paralyzes me, freezes me and I forget the bottom of the freezer, bottom drawer in and out of the red-hot reality. I could not tell him nothing, a comforting word, a phrase not to defuse. Nothing. That life from leguminous nickname was certainly in a womb but also objective was his presence in my heart. In this heart that has no words but only silent tears.
This morning the air conditioning seemed less annoying sometimes, so I got out of bed and let my wife sleep a little more 'artificial in that cool, but still better than the natural heat of the stifling hood these days. Scalzo not to make too much noise, I went there in the kitchen and while loading the machine of the espresso was suddenly unrolled before my eyes the screen of things to do in the morning. Only one however caught my attention terror: The Visit "surgery" to see if the "peak" of inguinal hernia detected a few months ago is to be made or not. Now, medical nobody likes and I am no exception, but the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to lower her pants in front of a stranger, what's more male, and make me feel off the family silver and surrounding areas is one thing that just makes me shudder a primordial. I imagine that your doctor does not make you jump for joy when handling the genitals, but that's his job, while I at most risk of having to undergo surgery. However, even to dissolve anxiety, after breakfast, I cut a quarter of an hour of reading on the balcony from the generous shade of the tree leaves, which perhaps would do well to find a shorter name and immediate not to ridicule all the time with this expression pseudopoetica and a bit 'pathetic, so now you like it or not I will call Mario. The most malignant and they will be less used to anthropomorphization already twisting the nose so the grounds it is a ridiculous name for a tree. Well, first of espriemere reviews know that the blackbird Joseph, a frequent guest of Mario, it is very sucettibile and could irreparably offended.
I bought two chairs. Verdi, a little 'rocking, reading, good also for the sea. Suitable for a night out with friends as a brunch or a gala reception. I mean one of those purchases there and then you're not even entirely convinced but then turn out to be the home of the purchase of as-we-did-not-to-think-before. Actually I have a family enjoy it more. Placed out there on the balcony, from the generous shade of the tree foliage in the garden that we are becoming a kind of refuge cooling and invigorating especially during the hottest hours. My wife is there for a while ', then because of the belly (which advise to take one side when you are lying) is forced to go to sweat on the leather sofa. I then sometimes I get up and go put it there to turn the fan on top of the cabinet where she does not. Expect the reach the first gusts of air. If she smiles I go back to my haven, and above all happier with less guilt, even if the fan manages to give her some 'relief in general, for solidarity, I give up the balcony and I find something to do at home. But I must say that those times together there on the balcony, though brief, are always special. Relax in the cool and the right distance for conversation summer we indulge in impromptu discussions ranging from "Today I have the self-esteem under your feet" to "look look, the new you on the right sole is much more vivid what you have on that of the left foot. " We often talk about my wife and I walk. Not to be outdone and not feel left out then, today kicked that Samuel was a beauty. Or maybe she sobbed, we can not understand. Firmly, and rhythmic. How wonderful when you feel so strong.
Well, that's my philosophy for a better teaching of music. Methodology applied to the center of musical expression since its inception. We are waiting !!!!! Do not be afraid. The method works :-)
Here Igudesman & Joo with Gidon Kremer great
A ' another famous gag Igudesman & Joo (even if the gag is not new and had already done before them http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nWzC19Iq_c Rainer Hersch . Or www.rainerhersch.com)
was 2001, July 4, Japan landed on earth to 12.00 local time after eleven hours of flight, fully awake, with my nose stuck past the porthole despite the hostess were to systematically close the curtain to create the night ... In my eyes the great rivers of Russia, the Gobi Desert, the Great Wall and Beijing ... and then began a fantastic adventure, including Kyoto, Tokyo and Otsu, including dance classes, rehearsals, performances and then wander alone among the crowd that every day life that both the city and I liked it. As the plane took off
remember the lump in my throat every time I hear that start from a place so remote, the thought that life is too short to go back twice in the same place as there are too many others to see. Back in Turin travel to the U2 concert with a place in the very front row to step away from Bono ...
2008, July 3, I'm back on board a JAL Boeing that landed in Tokyo for the second time and the birth of this blog that tells Japan's what my experience has been fantastic again, although living with a mood that is more a tourist this time and the assurance that there would be a third time in Japan ready for my future ...
2010 July, the chance that there will be ... Why I should be there again? Because I believe in coincidences and this time there were too many for not materialize, La Traviata, a job, Gus who work there too ... even the U2 concert ... but the return will stay at home! Uff ...
THE TERROR OF THE ITALIAN PEOPLE (... and I realized that I had not! But now I think) I
I watched the news recently and I have a grant which would have been better if I had not but I grant subsidy. So this thing made me think that I, like everyone else, people who complain about a lot of things I see every day. type who complain that they have a fixed-term contract for six months, making promotions in supermarkets, which have no place for children to nest under the 700 € per month. Then there are those who have more than thirty years and still lives with his parents but the parents no longer want to stay but earns € 800 per month and where it goes? Stays at home with their parents. Then there is the one that has dumped her boyfriend. That the problems are still the heart of her because even if there is a moment in facebook that someone finds it on the fly. Then there are those who live in southern Italy and cocks that are even more bitter to find a job. Then there are those who have never time to do anything that they are all congested, and things are bad. There are bad ones. Then there are divorced fathers who have to maintain two children, former wife, the mortgage of their former home where his ex-wife and children live and the rent of the apartment where they live. Then there are the wives and mothers separated with a jerk of an ex-husband who does not pay for food and the mortgage. Then there is one that has had a drink in more than beer and they took the license and is representative and is pissed as hell. Then there is what is pissed off with the neighbor, the one that is pissed off with the employer, that the bank has taken her home after the layoffs because the salary is zero and the mortgage payments began jump. Then there is one to do an MRI and no nobody knows but nobody but nobody in the hospital then has to wait four months. Then there is a student who goes to university and go to office hours to talk to the teacher of his thesis but its reception with the professor, his students there is almost never. I mean think about all this things here after I heard this evening, our prime minister said on TV that all Italians are terrified of having your phone under control. Something must be done for the Italian people. And I was thrilled. Because of all those who complain about every day I never have heard only one that had the problem of having your phone under control. So I asked: "But where I live that I hear people complaining about these things here and not one who complains that gl'intercettano a phone call." I grant that does not look good the reality. This drama of the Italians that I had not understood. I'm Italian people torn apart by tapping mica I had the sensitivity to perceive it. I we recall the thoughts tonight and think about it. In this drama of the Italian people. Other than sti young people without work. But they came to work sti youths. Tonight I think.
In mid-January. January of this cold and quirky Bruno De Filippi left us. Nobody, not even their closest friends, knew that he was really that sick. the last time I played him for a few days earlier at his home and I'll never know if he has to listen to me. That afternoon, in his bedroom, I pulled out the harmonica from his pocket and I inevitably greeted with 'But love no', the story of John D'Or ever heard him make it unique in the jazz version recorded at New York with Don Friedman. The same song that made him feel 20 years first in our first meeting. The same song that we play together in the video below and we have done in the summer of 2008 to Abruzzo Pineto Jazz Accordion Festival. Bruno has played with all the greatest musicians everywhere. By Mina (for which he wrote to Tan Moon), Celentano, Milva, Pino Daniele, but especially Louis Armstrong, Gerry Mulligan, Barney Kessel, Astor Piazzolla and who knows how many others. Bruno has played in 60 years of music with everyone. Its great merit was to know how to make music with all and for all. For him it is not the curriculum or at the side of whoever it was appropriate to play or not to play with musicians who were not of his rank, but only to make music, give emotions. At a jam-session never pulled back (as do most snob sometimes when they think that others on stage are not of their own stack), took the harmonica or guitar and played. Today daughter Franca, companion Lilly and brothers George, Alessio Licio and wanted to celebrate the birthday of Bruno along with many friends. As if he were still with us. In a country house just outside Milan, in the Open, has made music together, we ate, we met with old friends and acquaintances and has been especially well together. We all know that Bruno was a happy birthday as well. To greet a 'Where do the balloons' in Gorni Kramer and 80 balloons, one for every year are up in heaven. While Kramer played the song with the corner of my eye I saw my son Frederick, who held a balloon. Rarely have I felt life to be so sweet. This post is also linked article interview that the singer and journalist Eva Simontacchi has made with his daughter Franca De Filippi Jazzitalia for the site. (click on the title above 'Bruno Happy Birthday' to see the link) A few friends of Bruno have been asked to add a witness. My is given below. Hello Bruno, I know that they rest in peace, but you'll continue to tap your foot with a lot of emphasizing the upbeat swing.
Bruno I met twenty years ago, at the beginning of my wonderful adventure with the harmonica. I had phoned to see if he could give me lessons and he said: "Let 's Saturday afternoon in the square of the cannon in Milan before the sound check of my agreement with Franco Cerri and I tell you what I know." And then he added: "But you play the piano already, you're a musician (I was actually a student who strummed to earn some money) and then you have to call me because I give her only in the bank." So I found myself as if by magic in a radiant May afternoon on a bench to play things with him. Finally I said, "You are set well and now you only have musical study. Then he took a bag full of his CDs, vinyl records, scores and a record of Toots and said: "This is a tribute to you. Music lessons I do not know but I would give you that these things are helpful to study all you can and remember one thing: you have to die there in the harmonica. " And to write these memories is not easy to hold back the tears. In fact I'm not holding back. Then he added, as if I were his oldest friend: "Next month will Toots playing at the Festival of Turin with Cedar Walton, we together to hear him? ". From that day
Bruno became a great friend and I am sure of one another. A friend who continues to show generosity and affection, allowing young to perform with him, bringing the terminus of Milan and in many other places for me to know more and more into jazz and its great artists. I could write dozens and dozens of anecdotes and good stories about him.
Only in the days of his death, when so many asked me how old he was, I realized I had almost 40 years older than me. Strange, because Bruno and myself in these twenty years of friendship we've been so busy with music to do the things to tell, from concerts to see together by a 'sincere and spontaneous that there were never realized.
Thank you my friend. _____________________________________________
80 balloons in the sky for Bruno (photo by Alberto Gottardelli)
CONCERT Radu Mihaileanu (the film not to be missed)
"The Concert" is a film not to be missed. And since I'm not a film critic I should not write so well but I laughed and enjoyed seeing this film at the cinema this evening that I can not pray on your knees to find him some room in second window (I do not think that ever in the past few Multiplex managed by the empire Medusa) and vedervelo. Indeed, STRAgodervelo. I would want to swear a "money back" but then I think about thinking that the film with De Sica Boldi and are the most seen in Italy. The director of "The Concert" is the Romanian Radu Mihaileanu, the same mad visionary, loving and dell'irreverenza bitter joke of "Train de vie". "The concert" is a film of rare and transcendent irony divertivento. A film that knows how to play also on the feeling and the history of yesterday and today, told through the smile of the absurd mission orchestral Russians who go to Paris to represent the conquest of that masterpiece of Cajkovskkij which is the Concerto in D major for violin n.35 and orchestra. And the director plays a lot with the references to Fellini and Kusturica's "Orchestra Rehearsal" although less attentive to the film lovers will not escape the idea of \u200b\u200brebuilding the band in The Blues Brothers "with Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi. The mixture absurd klezmer, gypsy and classical whimsical but functional to the fiction film. So go find series of criticisms on the web or, better yet: do not try anything and andatevelo see.
Ps who could import the scene of Russian musicians seeking per diem impresario French hotel made me convulsions of laughter that I had not felt since 1986 by the legendary scene of Raffaele Guido throwing the apple from the window of Sergio Broglia of our class in high school. But I realize that just care about anyone (even a Sergio Broglia).
LETTERS OF SENTENCED TO DEATH OF THE ITALIAN RESISTANCE (never close the books by Bruno Vespa and ... Pierluigi Bersani)
Gallarate-night between 8 and 9 March 2010 - with Kenny Wheeler's music that sounds below.
reading of the passages in "Letters from death row in the Italian Resistance"
There are books on Zen philosophy, the speeches of St. Augustine, the greatest charm of San Francisco. Then there is the secular philosophy, there is the poetry of all kinds and levels, which often depicts the world from a perspective that only a great poet can seize. There is the power of the word that takes us by surprise and make us crash into the ground for his appeal. But the word also has its emptiness, its uselessness. Often used in the case, insulted, disconnected from reality. Blasphemed, crippled. Used for the obvious. For an outcome of a game. For a racist joke. To a sterile political debate. To offend. There are books of all types, shapes, language, history, beauty, but this book is absolute truth. Beyond any political connotation that this is a book to be read as the ultimate expression of man in the relationship first with himself and with death. The last words of truth. Those who have the ultimate essence. Without cheating. No return. This book teaches us courage in dealing with simple people who had the idea to death. A concept lost, destroyed and light years away, replaced by toned bodies and twinkling of the stars of facebook. Replaced by us who do not want to get old. For boys who after thirty years living with Mom and Dad with a nice car and a job that does not give meaning, without ideas and without balls. And we are well or hurt us all. But I'm also the previous generations, those painted wonderfully well in the poem "The mother" that Pasolini often have rocked the idea of \u200b\u200bnothingness and of well end in itself. This book is the only book I've read in my life that speaks of true love. a book may seem ruthless and dramatic, but behind those words feels great to be given to the wider life. It 's a book that will teach us to smile even more to the things that count. It 's a book that will teach us to recognize the beautiful people. From reading here and there in the empty moments to find the strength to those who had courage and determination. It 's a book of true love. Love of life. must-have in your library, even if you vote Berlusconi. vote thing has nothing to do (almost!) To appreciate this book. But beware, if you place it close to that of Bruno Vespa on fire (to Bruno Vespa). But next to that Bersani is a very bad shape (that of Bersani).
Finally a bit 'of rationality and intelligence on television. Perhaps you're right, the great poet Giuseppe Conte, if the world will govern the poets and musicians would be a better world. Just do not govern the saints, I would add. Enjoy all Max
Whatever you think. A memory from a trivial little blog in a dead boy. On this rainy day in late February I do not know why the memory went to Carlo Giuliani. And our thoughts turn also to the mother Haidi I had the opportunity to meet twice during the show where I played POR LA VIDA. In one of the two theatrical performances with her were also Argentine mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. Mothers united in the horror of the death of a child. The greatest tragedy, I suppose, that a human being can live. And it was almost embarrassing to be there just to play for them. I remember perfectly that day in summer 2001. Many of my friends were in Genoa, and I began to be a weekend in the mountains. I remember the news. The tragedy of death. A death that has lost any kind of respect in the massacre ordered a few hours later in the Diaz school and in the barracks of Bolzaneto. Whatever you think, beyond politics, a memory of Carlo Giuliani is in this day in late February. max
"In our world 'things that we know' and 'things we do not know' are inevitably inseparable as Siamese twins, and their very existence is confusion. Confusion, confusion. Who can tell the sea from what is reflected? or say where the rain stops and starts the melancholy? "
Murakami Haruki from" The Girl of Sputnik "
Bill Carrothers & MAX DE ALOE live - LIUC Castellanza - November 13, 2009 - " Dolphin Hotel "+ "A sort of dance" music inspired by the novels of Murakami Haruki
What are two men and a woman hanging on a precipice of ice precariously insured a nail driven into the rock at two o'clock as a cold sunny afternoon in January? How did they get there? And above all why? To have a privileged view of the world perhaps? But from that corner the view is limited to the 'beautiful valley below, where life is frozen pending the renewal of spring and the silence is the only perspective possible. It 's a different and a subjective desire, detachment, rise from the world and daily life, rising above the clouds for a brief moment of happiness incomprehensible ... the disinterested contemplation of beauty ... a taste of paradise. But today we hung up an icefall called Acheron, the river of hell, there are 10 degrees below zero, I'm getting the bubble in your hands, I'm thirsty, I miss the heavenly breath and everything in there is nothing! We climbed for hours on spicozzando fragile crystal structures, castles, water trapped by ice in the instant before falling to the valley, a spell that will melt only with the kiss of spring ...
Mountaineers do not want to go to heaven, hell is more attractive and is made of high rock walls and columns of ice, where thousands of roped climbing frantically as ants. In retaliation for group of mountaineers climbing eternally on a wall which you never see the top ... but some is for a penalty worse: a beautiful mountain you see in the distance, there are glaciers and pristine walls still to be scaled, can be reached by climbing meadows and valleys and then into snow for easy rocks and steep slopes, but the approach will last forever ...
Aunt waiting for us for half past four p.m. and then gave one last look over the horizon of Sandan-Heki and we drive back to Shirahama. The day is hot and very humid.
The small house is opposite the beach and is on one floor. We opened the door a smiling lady, tall and thin, with wavy black hair and collected, bows a thousand times and invites us to enter. We take off our shoes and cross two rooms with sliding doors in traditional Japanese style, without furniture, bathroom and kitchen are rather Western, a marriage of convenience and tradition!
The aunt is so excited, do not speak English and thinks Mikako to act as interpreter. He feels honored to make tea for us and explains in detail what we do. Guests must enter the tea house through a small garden of bamboo attached to the rest of the building by a corridor. One at a time using the flip-flops arranged for us through the garden, washing your face and hands in the small fountain and enter the house by a low door that forces the visitor to bow out of respect. The house is actually a stanzettina a few square meters with a circular window that filters the light and the ceiling low. On the wall kakemono (a painting hanging panel is changed depending on the season) and the next 'Ikebana (flower arrangement), the center of the brazier to heat the water and all the tools for the ceremony.
We have a circle, kneeling and aunt begins. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes ritual, silence falls and everything looks the woman kneeling at the center, looking very serious and focused, once heated the water dilutes the pouring in another bowl with broad gestures and again another so that is not too hot. Then a small lacquered box pulls out a cloth bag, opens it and a small wooden ladle takes the green tea powder just for this ritual. Again with the sweeping gesture puts it into a bowl, poured the water and with a kind of bamboo whisk the mixture for a long time and then pour into a bowl bigger. The result is a very dense liquid green tea and not all that we expected! Each of us must turn to drink a small sip from the bowl, pulendone the edge with a small handkerchief and making then rotate between the left hand and right thumb three times counterclockwise. The flavor is typical of green tea but the thick consistency gives him a very bitter taste. We are then offered a box lacquered some great cakes of colored gelatin contrast to much sugar.
The tea ceremony has its origins in China and was made by Buddhist monks for religious purposes (so I think I understand) is a very complex thing that only the geishas and women of a certain age now know how to perform duty. Usually in a Japanese house there is always the tea house, and many women do to themselves every day and this fascinating ritual.
Unfortunately my camera had dead batteries that afternoon and the only visual memory remains the circular window on the garden of bamboo, but the indelible feeling bitter tea ...
Despite the language barrier we conversing with the lady who invites us to come back for dinner another night. Her husband, a retired professor, has the hobby of fishing and has a small motor boat with which the evening out at sea with friends. We are invited for a spot of night fishing for the next night ... how refuse?
greet politely and go back to the car already relishing the idea of \u200b\u200btasting the freshest sashimi you can imagine ...
It 's been a long time since I said "so long ago, many things have happened and I'm also a little different, but I have lost all desire to tell me so. .. as if time had never come back the past ... at the end of July two years ago in Japan, near Shirahama home Taitsuke's aunt who invited us for tea ceremony.
