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January 10

Solo per te

Ed eccomi ancora qui,ancora a scrivere e quando succede vuol dire che ho un disastro dentro di me da raccontare.

Se solo rifletto sul motivo del mio dolore sorrido.Ed è un paradosso se ci penso.

Essere talmente tristi da voler sorridere.

Mi chiedo se tutte le mie lacrime e tutte le mie notti insonni te le stia meritando.

No,non è la domanda corretta..Perchè la risposta la so gia.

E allora perchè non esci dalla mia testa?

Perchè ti vedo ovunque e ti sogno tutte le notti?

Anche se immagino che tu, proprio tu,non leggerai mai questo intervento,perchè è sempre piu' comodo cancellare le persone e fari finte che esse non esistano piuttosto che affrontarle e cercare un confronto maturo..

Ora spengo tutti i miei pensieri,ascolto i Bluvertigo quando cantavano Storia mediavale,Morgan cantava "Ho bisogno di certezze".

Ripenso all'unica promessa che mi hai fatto,all'unica certezza che hai sempre cercato di darmi e nemmeno questa sei stata in grado di rispettare...

Ovunque tu sia e con chiunque tu sia,ogni pensiero è per te,che ti piaccia o no.

Sai che odio dire addio,quindi preferisco dirti arrivederci...

See yuo Chicken

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November 09

contributo di caramella

Uno come me

Per una persona normale, uno come me,
c'è bisogno di tempo per pensare.
Per una persona sincera, non uno come me,
i pensieri aderiscono ai fatti.
Per una persona insicura, uno come me,
c'è costante bisogno di conferma.
Per una persona qualunque, uno come me,
necessitano atteggiamenti.

[Morgan, "Dissoluzione"]

Spero ti piaccia ;)

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October 30

from "Big Fish"

There are some fish that cannot be caught.

It's not that they're faster or stronger than other fish.

They are just touched by something extra.

Call it luck.

Call it grace.

One such fish was The Beast.

By the time I was born,

he was already a legend.

He'd taken more hundred-dollar lures

than any fish in Alabama.

Some said that fish was the ghost of Henry Walls,

a thief who'd drowned in that river 60 years before.

Others claimed he was a lesser dinosaur,

left over from the Cretaceous period.

 
I didn't put any stock into 
 
such speculation or superstition. 
 
All I knew was I'd been trying to catch that fish 
 
since I was a boy no bigger than you.
 
And on the day you were born, 
 
that was the day I finally caught him.

[...]

DR. BENNETT:

Glad to see you're not trying to

have a heartfelt talk. It's one of

my greatest annoyances, when people

talk to those who can't hear them.

WILL:

My father and I have an advantage.

We never talk.

How long have you known my father?

DR. BENNETT:

Thirty years. Maybe more.

WILL:

How would you describe him?

DR. BENNETT

Five-eleven. One-eighty. Regulated hypertension.

How would his son describe him?

[Tables turned, Will searches for an answer. 
He doesn't have one.]
 
DR. BENNETT:
 
Did your father ever tell you 
 
about the day you were born?
 
WILL:
 
A thousand times. 
 
He caught an uncatchable fish.
 
DR. BENNETT:
 
Not that one. The real story. 
 
Did he ever tell you that?
 
WILL:
 
No.
 
DR. BENNETT:
 
Your mother came in about 
three in the afternoon. 
 
Her neighbour drove 
 
her, on account of your father was 
on business in Wichita. 
 
You were born a week early, 
but there were no complications. 
 
It was a perfect delivery. 
 
Now, your father was sorry 
 
to miss it, but it wasn't the custom 
 
for the men to be in the room for 
 
deliveries then, so I can't see as 
it would have been much different 
 
had he been there. And that's 
the real story of how you were born.
 
[A long silence(...)]
 
Not very exciting, is it? And I suppose 
 
if I had to choose between 
the true version and an elaborate one
 
involving a fish and a wedding 
 
ring, I might choose the fancy version. 
 
But that's just me.

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October 21

21/10 h 18:45

There are few who'd deny, at what I do I am the best
For my talents are renowned far and wide
When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night
I excel without ever even trying
With the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charms
I have seen grown men give out a shriek
With the wave of my hand, and a well-placed moan
I have swept the very bravest off their feet

Yet year after year, it's the same routine
And I grow so tired of the sound of screams
And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King
Have grown so tired of the same old thing

Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones
An emptiness began to grow
There's something out there, far from my home
A longing that I've never known

I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light
And I'll scare you right out of your pants
To a guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky
And I'm known throughout England and France

And since I am dead, I can take off my head
To recite Shakespearean quotations
No animal nor man can scream like I can
With the fury of my recitations

But who here would ever understand
That the Pumpkin King with his skeleton grin
Would tire of his crown, if they only understood
He'd give it all up if he only could

Oh, there's an empty place in my bones
That calls out for something unknown
The fame and praise come year after year
Does nothing for these empty tears