I Ink: The Tattoo Parlor is a great TV with a good sound system in which they are passing the Live 8 concert he carefully dodged in time. But now I see him hang because, although the tattoo is a nice guy, really I have no wish to distract anyone who is recording the skin permanently. Better to focus man. They are also going to Elton John singing "The Bitch is Back 'and that's never really bad for bobo fatter and that is the old rattle. It's a long session, so when I see John finish paraded a long line of mediocre artists, saying their ensayadísmos demagogic speeches. So Bill Gates condemned appears and will not be covered in spit. And that is logical, because with all the ugliness that is what appears on stage, nothing is as hopeless as the films that make the public: an indistinct crowd of robots dressed exactly alike, with the same hair cut neat, it white shirt, the same smile. An audience of tens of thousands of people between they do not see a distracted, one that seems high, to a shabby, angry one, nothing, there are all voters Blair, Chirac's of Bush ... Live8jugend the plan in video 'Radio Ga-Ga . " Onstage the idiot Will Smith makes the audience snapped his fingers every three seconds to convince them that every time they do starve some more bold and ugly guy Smith. Clack .. " oh John, many .. ." Clack " ... darkies, how fast they die! " click " sorry ... I left " click "... r itmo, when up Pink Floyd? "Clac.
But okay, so I get distracted from the blood in the arm. And at least Will Smith did not sing.
*** close the blog almost without regard for the last time my guild favorite: the advertising. But the truth is that in recent months had no short-offended or surprised me to motivate me to write (although the parable of BANDES Latin Americanist and packets with "fears" the wind swelled me a lot). But just for recent weeks a succession of silly and / or reminded me how awful things irritates me the motivational unit of consumption and its "creativity".
First highlight a foreign place: the advertising of anti-cellulite cream Nivea . Yes, it's that, a group of girls with long legs in hot pants dance down the street and say goodbye to something invisible (we assume that cellulite) with significant joy, until, in the climax of happiness, one jumps in the air is steady, immortalized in the jar of the cream. My objection is purely technical and casting: the chosen girl has very long legs, is very nice and is very happy to say goodbye to the fat tissues, but the girl chosen: a) not more than 20 years b) weighs no more than fifty kilos but is notoriously high and c) is not fully ass, long legs actually go direct to the spine. Then, how the hell is going to have cellulite? Why not hire an agent for shampoo controls hair loss or prostate? Are we mutating?
The second notice is problematic, if not, one against smoking. It makes a number of answer impossible questions associated with a place or an activity with its most distinctive, eg "Can you imagine without Gardel tango? " No, we're supposed to answer (although I do I imagine it pretty well, since the time Gardel is the least I care about the tango, recognizing that itself would be impossible to imagine the discussants of pelotudeces tango without the native thrush), and after several of these questions, we fit a "Can you imagine to you without your health? .. We do not." and remind you of the thousand and one evils that smoking brings. Ok, I will not argue about the evils of smoking as it is undeniable that they are evil cilindrillos guilty until the hole in the ozone layer of the outbreaks Fascist and the sadness of the willows, but it makes me question a lot of noise and formulation, "Can you imagine to you without your health? " Well, yes, I even had a good number of diseases that have left me more or less temporarily bedridden and I can well imagine: there, in bed, more or less bloody, with a face but happy not to go to work. What a pretty picture, say pucha. But I guess that Mr. advertising requires me to get me more health for my imagination free rein. In fact, I demand that I imagine without health, without nothing of it, and the only form of health have nothing to be dead. Well, I thought nothing of health, definitely dead. In a drawer filled with the butts of cigarettes that I smoked when I smoked, with a rare look gothic, surrounded by beautiful women who can not stop mourn and musicians with visible expression of relief. Barbaro, I figured. Now, how fucking sad image that introduce the term proposed by the ad?, I mean, what's the phrase? Musicians "stiffs? "Undeveloped possibilities? "Morbid imagination? "Free associations of advertisers bored ...? The truth seems to notice paid any tobacco you want to look good without it being a joraca and, of course, not scare anyone.
The latest example comes from an insurance agency and operates on the very human habit of being constantly dissatisfied with our life time. Thus the claim when we're talking about a tricycle and bicycle dream, the desire to be 18 for driving a car (differences between people, my greatest desire was to have 18 years to kill a dirty car, but can watch any movie with ease), the desire of a woman and then a daughter with that woman ... and then things get complicated and lyric writer notes, while the screen a young woman dressed like most of what is viewed from a lawn chair a few youngsters who franelear while voiceover says: " And after spending thirty, wanted for a few seconds back on the twentieth . " Ah, young creative lyrical pen, you've been in your position and know that one of the sacred laws of advertising is not to write anything that worry the prospect, but ... "A few seconds? How many? 780.00 a year "? Doll, youth and to be exact the golden twenties is the most precious assets in today's society and, generally, the decade of the full physical. No person over thirty-and I guess after worse-should not have the desire more or less permanently to be younger, at least physically. Clear that unless pathological cases, like those old operated increasingly common, is a desire embedded in our subconscious, like killing people, which reveals no happiness or prevents us from its incompleteness. But "a few seconds ?"... Go to felar camels, you and your generation merchant desires. ***
Ink II: not everyone likes tattoos, but it is a fact that all recent tattoo is the most unusual excuses to showcase what you just printed on the body is a law. It is also a law, or at least one of the many corollaries to Murphy, that no matter how little one is usually receptive to physical contact, each known when you find yourself tattooed just grab it happens violently and / or hit you exact point tattoo. ***
Blogs have a noticeable positive press-at least lip service-and rightly so; the end of the day work samples are usually free and disinterested, which function as a sort of para-journalism at a time when the level of distrust toward the mean is set high and bla bla bla .... (I will not explain what a blog as if it were a youth supplement of a newspaper achanchado). About to leave one of them quite easy for me to see popular attractions, especially for casual readers and commentators, and the possible need for alternative and watch.
However I do not I have a very idyllic view of blogs, U.S. a lot of them have become a sort of para-state apparatus of defamation against liberals , being funded by parallel boxes -O-shameless GOP official. But beyond these sinister intentions paid, the blog format can also be used to persecute, harass and insult from the darkness, from unverifiable data from the rumor, the implied threat and over-understood. In fact there are many local examples of blogs used brutality against people rather powerless over what can not be considered anything other than abuse. Not funny.
"Look Who's Talking " may be thinking of someone taking into account the virulence of some posts uploaded to this blog, but there are differences. Put aside the political sphere in which offending players of it is almost a must, at last, after all if anyone has the right to decide on our wombs and our lungs, one also has the right to say that the great decider is what turned a dog or some other outrage, although as little more than revenge. But where there have been more offended talk back is in the field of arts, specifically the music. I agree that in FYT has rubbed violently from time to time-sensitive figures such as Jorge Drexler , Hereford, La Vela Puerca , NTvG , Dani Umpi , Dobermann and Trap , etc. I do not suppose anyone will believe me, but en ninguno de estos casos hubo una animosidad personal hacia estos músicos. Me explico; no conozco, o conozco muy superficialmente, a esta gente, que tiene muy distintos vicios y virtudes, pero todos tienen algo en común: son el mainstream , la fachada, el signo musical uruguayo de estos tiempos. Son la música uruguaya en un tiempo desesperante para mí, un melómano al que no le gusta nada de la música popular de su tiempo. Posiblemente muchos de los trabajos que he despreciado o subestimado hayan sido hechos con espíritu, dedicación y honestidad, tal vez soy yo el que no ha podido apreciarlo.
No siempre fue así; me ha tocado vivir tiempos en los que Alfredo Zitarrosa , Jaime Roos and El Cuarteto de Nos were alternately Uruguayan artists most popular and widespread thanks to its exquisite music. Could it be that I took a viejazo a bit premature? Maybe, but until you show me a song of popular artists today that can compete with 'golden-eyed Milonga', 'Fifteen Aprils' or 'Guardian of the zoo ', prefer to think it is mere degradation taste. Degradation, in my opinion, has much to do with Olympic impunity in critical terms of current artists that they enjoy and which has become a central theme in this blog. Criticism, besides serving as a controller, also has a constructive role for artists who can get off your ego to read others views, but the people responsible for it in the public media decided to abdicate the possibility to join the party and "do not shoot for back "limited number of tickets to celebrate and record sales as if it had a real relationship with product quality (and being intensely hypocritical, because during the rise of cumbia, the music board, sales never seemed to be sufficient argument to respect a musician).
do not think I won anything fighting with the mainstream Uruguayan musical, and I pretty sure you lost (everything returns "is the favorite phrase of modern Uruguayans and are not just talking about karma), but I felt that silence before the half cowardly, half-ass tolerance had to say that emperor was naked. And clutching a child, too. But it seems to me, I believe, that the uncritical triumphalism is slowly reversed. For the moment I am surprised to read a review of Pilsen Rock in Search in which the writer finally able to write what is known for years: that the singer of one of these bands is completely invalid as a showman (if one is not a catorceañera hormonal exploding.) Soon it reaches even talk honestly about their singing skills. It will not change anything in the short term for any of these successful artists, but perhaps in the coming years is more common that at least one in five of its potential listeners, be able to doubt about the infallibility of idols-even fill Olympic stadiums in high-arms, to trust the inner voice that tells you not only burgers man lives and ask for more when confronted with a new product mediocre. And, horror of horrors, if not satisfied look elsewhere, in another band. Maybe someday music listeners Let's remember that a band-or even a soloist, is among other things a small business that finances, not a holy cause.
heart I believe that the promotion of any aesthetic involves getting elbowed make room for others. There is something to vigilante-and entirely lawful "in the attempt to destroy a good case the credibility of any proposal adoradaPero invite some of those who decided to record the entire contents of the blog and have spirit of single mathematical comparison between the number of posts" positive "for disseminating creative works and artists, especially Uruguay, which I consider valuable, and posts" negative ", aimed at, say, destroy it Atila. The number the first is far superior, however I am sure you will remember most corrosive function. It is a pity.
Everything in this blog has not been more than a passionate and perhaps exaggerated declaration of love for the use of discretion, the authority to interpret and eloquence as a form of fencing. And above all things, love your music, good music. If not understood, then not understood anything. And may I be the only culprit. ***
Ink III: Today to Emanuel have tattoos, but not always the case, it is actually a much more recent phenomenon what is involved. I lived the times when the tattoo inevitably betrayed some holidays prison or immigration, and where we saw Henry Rollins -less songs tattooed teen manufacturers such as Blink 182 or AFI - and we seemed to see someone who was very ill, a madman.
One of the first tattoos I saw a person who was neither a fool nor a lost everything in the shoulder blade was the girlfriend of the brother of a friend of mine. Architecture was a girl, several years older than me and a woman of legendary beauty and dark on which wove all sorts of disturbing stories but knew little. A day that surprisingly saw it happen and we looked up from her ass discovered that she had an eagle tattooed on his back, almost on the left shoulder, a tattoo rather small and unobtrusive to the standards presented today. But me and the rest of my friends hit us why a woman would submit to what we imagined as a painful operation, to draw a bird indelibly on the back? and, above all, why just so exceptionally attractive girl, which naturally made the cars collided at the corner of Avenida Brasil and us horny assholes, we saw as the embodiment of the unattainable woman? What could I bring? But we were too young to understand the power of beauty as individuation. Or to understand why we could not stop looking at the eagle. ***
Since nombrábamos, Drexler (accompanied by Supervielle ) and NTvG entertained presidents, vice presidents and four of hearts many who came to the Iberoamerican Summit . I suppose it was a gesture of good vibes between the sister countries have Emiliano Brancciari pontificating about Latin American unity on behalf of Uruguayan art and that man is Argentina, a fact that I believe that the organizers had clearly. But wills beyond figurettis and geographical inaccuracies, I wonder, seriously, what comes into their head to these people when they play in front of presidents, human receptacles for power and evil than those of most mortals but also even went to see the show, but simply are fulfilling ceremonial obligations, and obviously what happens on stage give a shit.
I also realize the domestication of the musical flag, we think, what insane organizer had invited to play in the Solís a, say, Daniel Viglietti ? or what artist dream of such an opportunity to make a notable and legendary bard singing a fresh pair of two or three of the championship these scoundrels? Worldwide Drexler these risks do not exist, man, perhaps a follower of Eastern religion, remains convinced that singing a capella in a trembling voice is an act of rebellion, "Drexler world nobody is going to come out of the script, or to make a raspberry to the authorities. In the world of artists recitals Summit ends with the national anthem and the audience singing loudly. ***
hear a radio news program, not touch anything, where they go, quite properly in relation to Ibero version of the classic Leo Masliah ' The Wall' of Quilapayún . Just finished, the driver is reading emails from listeners and read one where someone will protest at being passed to the "intellectual smarty Maslíah ." An immediate reflection, say.
Now Maslíah version is a joke, but a bit silly, funny and, in the context of international visits and outright security measures have been surrounded by "walls" to Montevideo, a very suitable choice to spend on essentially a news program during these days and a reasonably short song. Addition no one can say that it is going through a period of saturation Masliah, conversely, to be a musician more importance should say that seems to be banned from the airwaves. Not and indeed their absence has more to do with the fact that his later works are focused in the most "difficult" for his work (leaving aside some of its most slapstick), and with which Maslíah is lower profile than usual and the bad taste that distinguishes these years.
Maslíah is a fairly minor musician and worship, so that in the perverse logic of the market is quite likely that is unpopular, in fact it seems wrong, as would-that anyone would look very bad or unlistenable directly making. To me it's the same with 90% of Uruguayan music, especially the most widespread. But listening to the program Rosenberg bother-no, actually ran out because the mail came a few minutes after the song ended, to sit on the PC, open the mail, think of something witty, search program direction and send the message, just because they had spent a song by an artist who does not like and do not spend almost never there or in any program. And his argument contemptuous was trying to kind of "smart aleck " and "intellectual " in some way in line with a recent comment in this blog, in which it was also in reality Maslíah multiopinador is a very shy and quite difficult to interview, how can there be found anyone who has had an interest in doing so.
may seem a minor thing, but I was terrified / worthless idiots who have this caliber, capable of a range of volitional operations to tell the world anonymously his displeasure about the work of someone who clearly does not can be seen (in the sense understand and enjoy ) and having such a cultural inferiority complex that can not wait two minutes to insult someone who is also a musician, not a opinator , being a "know ".... Well
"Sabelona", whoever you are that drifts through the world with your bad smell of ignorance in tow, to me, listening to the program Rosenberg, I care a turd your repellent opinion and ask you in the future you save your cultural prejudices of disabled and your penis envy interpretation, and will not use half-instant messaging-to suck the ether with claims of brain death. I congratulate the Swedish Leiva for choosing a song so well in a as accurate time and I regret that you pieces of shit like you listening to the show looking for an opportunity to publicize your bad taste and your cultural dysfunctions like a virtue, a species of primate deglutidor pellets, monkey can not remember a song of swollen without the letter, asshole sperm sommelier, parasites incubator Patones, emperor of halitosis and plaque, toilet exclusive asses in public transport, bar and dumb poor guy .. you one thing is clear: Say what Maslíah read, sing that song, whether or not they agree that it is bullshit, or a genius, always going to be interesting or at least worth listening to. Ie the exact opposite your pathetic letter from underfunded to believe anything that apparently exceeds the cultural (ie anything) is an act of intellectual arrogance. It is not, fool, so sit down and listen: able to learn how to get close to the human race again. ***
Ink IV: too many years ago I went to a luau , one of those monstrous late night parties that the Brazilians are not too many excuses, on a beach in Arraial D'Ajuda . I was with a couple of fellow drinking capeta, lethal vodka drink that mixes Northeast with condensed milk, cinnamon and powdered guarana, which has an effect similar to that of liquefied Amphetamine and rubbing alcohol. But the night had been too long, even with capeta, and at some point the girl and I went to sleep, leaving his family-a character, say, impulsive, slightly drunk and hanging around the shops where they made tattoos. When I arrived at the inn was breaking, and the night clouds of mosquitoes were gone, so I decided to throw myself into one of the hammocks hanging from pole to pole ceiling in front of the rooms, listening to the Harvest Moon of Neil Young .
A couple of hours later I wake up and see someone screaming that we appear to lean left on the beach, which is staggering and euphoric by the dirt road leading to the inn. Approached me and with great pride I say "look what I did." Lifting the sleeve of his shirt and shows me a very fresh tattoo of a huge panther which occupies almost the whole arm, with a large head with bulging eyes on the shoulder and a body that was stretched until the queue went down several inches elbow. I'm quite surprised and with serious doubts about whether we were right in leaving him alone at the party.
" You like it? ", he asks, with an enthusiasm which only expects confirmations. I look at that big cat standing and say, "Ehhh ... how great it is ... " and washing my hands added, " do you like? ." The guy looks back at his tattoo, studying with false dignity of drunk and says, " good ... well I'll like ", and goes to her room, leaving me astonished at such a tremendous response. ***
for the third time I saw Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas of Terry Gilliam, and finally convinced me that it is a great movie and a great fit. They might be met hallucinogenic drugs / consumed since its release until now, but I think my initial impression was poor most of all the rejection that is often felt to all artistic works that in some a direct relationship with a past tense of our lives. In this case was twofold: Gilliam was my favorite director during my adolescence and Thompson one of my favorite writers of my early adult years. Over time I discovered that one tends to associate stimuli that dated to the history with the stupidity and immaturity of those years, but usually at some point you realize that then we had pretty good taste and that these artists are still as good. It always happens, one day grabbed this album AC / DC or The Damned we remember as a boludez and realize that it is better than any contemporary crap we are listening. Inevitably, they are things that are etched forever in the psyche not because we had a bad taste terrible when we were younger but otherwise, because we already knew instinctively what it was: the kids have, or had very good taste.
days later I see the less well-known "Where the Buffalo Roam '( Art Linson, 1980), which Bill Murray and Peter Boyle take the roles of Hunter S. Thompson and his lawyer in a stew of stories gonzo journalist -even a minor history of 'Fear & Loathing ..."- pulse in a strange film, with music Neil Young more concentrated in the areas extravagantly clownish personality of Thompson and his attorney . However, although less than Gilliam's film is quite good and one is always amazed about the distinctive (and contagious) that should have been Thompson's personality, because it interprets Murray exactly the same eccentric tics Johnny Depp in the film later. Tics actually be very sticky, and Murray apparently took several back to the filming of Saturday Night Live , where he bitched the whole cast because of his remarkable change.
But this is superficial, because Thompson read and return to being captivated by his rabid libertarian message and unparalleled style, but when I think of how to evoke his personality and heroic prose, I remember Frank Kelly Rich , the brave drunkard who created the Modern Drunkard Magazine , wrote a beautiful elegy, which I would play a few paragraphs also excited at the appointment of a tiger, and I work on marble exhaust the list of verbal
Nowadays the main rule is Play It Safe. Not only Should you look Before you leap, You Should Seriously think about very Attending a Leapers Anonymous meeting and Discussing the Possibility That You Have A leaping problem. We're all told at one point to tone it down, to start behaving responsibly and settle into that grey lockstep toward the prison of death. Nearly everyone eventually bows to that pressure, which is what made Hunter such a rare creature. He never backed down, he never sold out the ideals of his youth; instead of toning it down he cranked it up.
He loped along like a crazy tiger and I think we all understood that that was how he was going to go out — at full stride in a sudden spasm of violence. We knew death wasn't going to finally catch up with him in a nursing home where he’d crawled to die.
People liked to say, and I was one of them, that Hunter had lost a step toward the end, that his tidal wave Had talent of crested and broke Decades Before and WAS Quickly now receding.
Which May be true, Though it Hardly matters. His Ideals Were Already Firmly Planted in the firmament of Society. The lighthouse still stands and the light still burns bright.
Long live the king
***
Shakira is the least attractive woman on Planet Earth, definitely. There's nothing less attractive than a buffoon who is serious about what he does, and that's what the Colombia: Latin cartoon makes for non-Latinos and is taken seriously, and is all, all, all, everywhere. And brings me surprisingly weak, despite upholstery the world with his mouth connoting fellatio (or someone is so asshole to believe that it's "Oral Fixation" is on the side of the expression or chocolates?), I say, is surprisingly non-sexy. When emerged was a kind of Latin and degraded version of Alanis Morissette , something like what is Maná Police, who at least got hooks in their songs, but now even that. And is conquering the world with his perfect model of what should be the subordination America. It's terrible. But besides flojísima brings me, at least met Paulina Rubio, Shakira. Hips do not lie, but Shakira yes, all those who sell Shakira lie, are selling a car that does not work.
And speaking of spoiled goods, "just me who thinks that Paris Hilton , besides being a championship Conchuda and dumb as a stick, is uglier than a baboon's ass bit sanitized? What the hell is happening to global libido?
And I'm a little, for the first time I remember I agree completely with Rodrigo Fresán in appreciation on Scarlett Johanson acalambrante and saturation that we have had the media with her nice but not a supernatural figure. Dog Shows: stop proposing beauty in one fashionable package, the only woman that summarizes all the others is great if you're a young lover, not a method of distributing a restless press agent. ***
There are two kinds of professionals that I admire above all others and I would never have dared because they are typical of ubermensch of superior men. These are the jazz musician and a comedian, referring, of course, the great exponents of the two works that have coexisted in the same scenarios for decades.
I got a strange documentary called The Aristocrats (Paul Provenza , 2005) and it consists exclusively of dozens of top comedians (George Carlin , Lewis Black , Eric Idle, Eddie Izzard and many others) telling the same joke, rude and not particularly pretty free funny, in various versions, and think about this too, and I realize that there is no better proof of the connection between humor and music to this documentary. You know the end of the joke, you know the variations of obscenity that can be done about it, but each of these, at least the really talented, they manage to give their personal touch and that touch is almost always in the voice not on the face, the comedian. It is almost always a matter of phrasing, tempo, measure of the silences, volume ... the guys are singing a popular song, not telling a joke, and jam on it as jazz musicians, as people who know the line between the professionals of the willing, the artists that are not. In my perfect dictatorship dream tie at 80% of Uruguayan comic to a chair and force, like Alex in A Clockwork Orange to see The Aristocrats 20 times. I do not know if it would do any good, but at least leave the screen free for 40 hours. ***
Ink V: I see some pictures of the great concert singers metrosexuals who met in Montevideo to Kevin Johansen with Paulinho Moska . Both muscular look that show their shoulders, biceps and tattoos. Moska has impresentable haircut, but his tattoos are discreet and more or less passable (they look like a mix of tribal and abstract kanji ideogram). Johansen has a good haircut but what has tattooed on his shoulder is ... a pipe. Not just any pipe, but a reproduction pipe René Magritte, of the famous "Ceci n'est pas joins pipe" that has given so much to talk about the theory of the vanguard. Even under the tattoo has also tattooed a handwritten statement that small photo will not let me read, but I guess it is, precisely, the pipe Ceci n'est pas links that we talked about.
Kevin, Kevin, Kevin, Kevin ... I know I should not be easy to be witty, modern and intertextual 24 hours per day (8 hours I start to burp and I get cross-appointments), but I can assure you that there are things that should not be tattooed, because no are well beyond the cultural tradition that is evoking and that one would like to try to read a book from Taschen on surrealist painting. I mean, ok, Magritte was a painter and a good artist, and suddenly he can rescue any convert drawings to tattoo. Suddenly one of your characters in suits and bowler ... Suddenly the bird made of sky ... Suddenly this huge pink legendary .... but the pipe does not, Kevin. If you love the surrealism there are plenty of evocative cartoons that can be recorded one in the body (if tested with Europe after the rain of Max Ernst had earned my respect), but a pipe -beyond what anyone says frasesita below-remains a pipe, something that looks good in your mouth, not in one arm. It's like tattooing a plate of tripe. There are a thousand and one thing you can get tattooed, but it is all well and ornamental imagery own tattoos (is While one feels a little on the meaning, but the value of the tattoo is mostly ornamental) is rather juvenile and primitive, ritual symbols, Thanatos, or merely decorative animals represent a concept of beauty linked to pain, the ultimate and the tribal (even if the tattoo is not). Not a vernissage comment of a goose who thinks that intellectual is an oxymoron cumbiera hilarious. Everyone is free to tattoo what they fancied, but in terms of class Magritte's pipe is so cool as a portrait of Federico Klemm with a flag on the sunrise.
Shit, is this the generation that comes to replace Caetano Veloso and Fernando Cabrera ? Who is in charge of quality control? ***
I was not writing a long post I thought for a long time. Would be about what I got used to calling "the mafia of friendship" and that there is nothing more than the traditional cronyism Uruguay adapted to new media and transformed generations of a small fault at a great value.
But I ran out and, frankly, I wanted to turn me against the whole synergy of broadcasters, musicians, professional funny, figurettis, publicists, journalists, writers and visual communicators thirties. To all the synergy that has the privileges of attention that occurs to be part of a group that not only feels a bit of modesty by privileging the work of his friends, but also claimed this discretion as something good, as something that men well done for his friends.
No, I do corrupt, but also the corrupt self-centered, because the view that friendship itself is endorsed by the Bonomia or talent of any person implies that one is considered so valuable that only friends you have to great men.
I prefer and rescued the exact opposite: For several years a director with whom I had a bad relationship significant a priori (Product of some classical prejudice benito younger) decided, despite this antipathy, devoting time, space and work to a project in which I was directly involved. Genuinely surprised me because this ability to separate the merely subjective what is perceived as important beyond affinities is not only rare but impossible to find in this medium. But this independence of criteria and conveniences is the stuff of island people and able to see outside their own mediocre inbreeding, which the later work largely confirm that person years later.
But today we live in today, where they take care of the back and where it seems entirely reasonable join groups in which they exchanged musical curtains by mass media and where the phrase "a friend" assumes a value we should share that we are not friends of those people, nor will we be going down these roads misanthropes.
post would have been an interesting, full of names and examples, but I will not write. I have no desire to get into trouble, and would also be appointed along with some friends. ***
second time I saw the first was a long time, "Nights of Cabiria and carefully study Giulietta Masina . No wonder that despite all their stories with voluptuous actresses, Fellini always return to it; this woman was magical.
His performance in The Nights of Cabiria has been voted many times as the best actress of all time. It's a hard thing to say, but at the same time is difficult to think of a better example. Current school safety performance at the Masina is too acted but, as in the social realism of Mike Leigh (do not know why I keep thinking about Leigh throughout the Fellini film), this makes it more unreal but rather the opposite. Masina not speak and does not explain: he sings and conspiracy.
When Wanda says goodbye and leaves the bus stop the movie and I'm not seeing the end. I have no desire to see Victor deceived the good woman. Instead I return to the top, I hear prisoners scream dialogues he wrote Pier Paolo Pasolini , I admire your eyebrows Luciferian and angelic spirit and mambo observed in the street again. ***
Ink VI: I look at the tattoo again for the hundredth time that day. Give me some embarrassment if it did not know that all the recent tattoos do exactly the same. Then I start thinking about some decisions and promises that links with the tattoo, I think that every time you do something decisive or permanent in your life, you have to exploit this to you as a reminder of memory aids, the one plans and expectations at that time.
A new job, a new partner, a new house, a new tattoo, anything that has a perpetual evidence serves as a marker to check the temper of our dreams, simply because it is a fixed point in the calendar or in our bodies or in our lives. Signal a new departure for new ways to be yourself. One way to leave material evidence of the good advice that we give and never deliver.
Well, I know what you're saying and remembering this tattoo and I will try to honor the commitment. As if they knew that others had tattoos that remind me something that I can not find anywhere in my memory.
