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Vegeta's Daughter Episode

Music is ...

When I eat, I eat when I make love, make love, when I play, I play

[ Miles Davis ]

in artistic expression there is no relationship between a symbol content and form distinct from each other: it expresses something -And even a spiritual value-through music, but music that is unique in its spiritual value and expression as possible. The music that does not express itself, even though the term "expression" did just that dangerous, which easily leads one to think of a thing to express and the duplicity of the medium to express

[ Massimo Mila ]

clarinet I have this new, just bought a beautiful shop that specializes in wind instruments. Trumpets, saxophones, flugelhorn, flutes, oboes and clarinets filled the shelves and delighted my eyes.

I have a room in which to practice whenever I need it, without disturbing anybody.

And I especially a little wish: take the stairs to the tower of the High and from there, from the foot of the imposing Aragonese tower overlooking the azure of the infinite sea, that sea insinuating itself with tentacles rapidly between the red earth and the deep green of the great pine forest, sit on the edge of the rock and play. I hear the sound of the clarinet that is lost in the air, enjoying the breath that the stomach returns to the world and hear that music, after all, is nothing more than come up with something that belongs to the universe from the belly to give it back.

Music is a refund, a debt that is firm, restore a lost equilibrium.

A musical instrument eventually becomes part of you, an extension of your body enough to feel the discomfort of a lack vital whenever held out to be in his custody.

Readings
Travel Finibusterrae. The passions and boundaries between Salento ., Antonio Errico , Manni

listening
Canto ebony , Gabriele Mirabassi , Egea

Images

order 1-2-3-
To My hand, the my clarinet (photo rodolfo)

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Goods

The concept of fair ground, the etymological point of view, is linked to the market, then good. Place where goods are exchanged for goods or goods with money.

E 'an archaic concept, not necessarily inherent in to capitalism, then.

At the time of my youth was held annually in the country where I was born, a fair market turkey, an event looked forward to working with us little children to come closer to the cages of birds for plucking in order to exhibit pens torn to mo 'trophy.

Book Fair: the market and culture.

Culture?

At the entrance gate, some supporters of the boycott against Israel were trying to deliver a flyer on a guy, spurn, apostrophised vehemently them as Nazis getting an immediate title of the fascist right.

Admission salty. I paid 21 € for myself, wife and daughters in tow. This figure puts an immediate economic discriminating between a party (myself among them) who can afford to pay and then can afford access to culture (sigh ...) and a portion of the population is excluded from this culture had very different economic priorities.

moment you step into this huge circle of hell where refreshment stands and seats were arranged exactly as in the old proud of my memories of turkeys, the first thing that struck me in this huge warehouse of books shapeless and meaningless, was the absence of the Book. There were two types of stands: stands by what looked like used books from Unity Festival and the type or Treccani Einaudi, which exhibited great pomp and luxury furniture fake true polystyrene. Fiat Croma in an exhibition stand or used as institutional promotion of tourism. Occasionally, some pathetic writer, sat behind the stand, intent to beg for a grateful glance, a smile, a few words of comfort, a few copies sold at a discount of twenty percent or the words "buy three what it costs you less give it away "or" buy two pay one. "

I said, the absence of the book. In this disorder and obese amount you ended up losing the sense of reality and the thread of every possible attempt to focus on a possible critical path. It was evident that what was driving the whole thing was pure business need.

In some stands were being appealing presentations that I have carefully avoided because to dwell in that context, thousands of people, screaming children, and all kinds of audio and video noise, the pathetic attempt to set any speech around a book turned out to be wishful thinking miserably.

I risked, among other things, to be buried under tons of leaflets of all kinds.

It finally emerged clear to me the futility of this event which I believe I will not go so easily.

Returning to the starting point, I think that the debate arose about the presence or absence of the state of Israel in this exhibition was, after all, another moment of wishful thinking culture.

Under a fair market as of this fact is in Turin, talking politics or history of peoples and activities out of context, with sharp boundary. Much more appropriate to speak of the commodity, market, cultural prostitution.

I'll be happy to return soon to my same old, small library.

listen to Kokan Orkestar meets Paolo Fresu and Antonello Salis Live, The Manifesto 2007 (bought at the stand of Il Manifesto)

Pictures Taken at flight by myself wandering through the stands

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Re

I can imagine still overlooking the ice, on that bare landscape, and says nothing, has nothing to say. E 'shadow behind the glass: pure essence of pain, bitterness crystalline. Iceland: a place of mind, a perfect abstraction. I can imagine but still a great void, and everything becomes blurred. His ultimate silence violated his peace: his last flight. Now, I know it is dead, and I do not believe in ghosts. E 'January 18, a drab morning. The launches of the agencies, these clumsy words. They say it is already dead and try to embalm, to nail him to a schema. I am vain ceremonies, rituals liars. Well let them talk, let them vent. E 'was and is no more, no way out. Nothing more to say. Robert James Fischer died yesterday in Reykjavik in a hospital bed. Case (presumed) death of kidney failure. He did not believe the doctors, he has not done healing.

What do you want to change, what can ever change?

[Vittorio Giacopini, King on the run]

I learned to play chess in November 1972 in the wake of the great challenge of Reykjavik.Avevamo all maybe in the whole world, the same name with the tip of his lips: Bobby Fischer.

But Robert James Fischer, as well as "the chess master" was also the genius of individualism, the archetype of the solitude to which every individual is inevitably doomed.

So, giving up his loneliness, to offer to others, it means giving up their freedom, drowning in the meshes of a power stritolante, where thousands of powers and this is the compromise we accept that since our first moment of life.

But Bobby Fischer, from its first moment of life, cultivated through the excesses of the extreme solitude of a character irriconducibile unrelated to any place in the world, physical or not.

But you can chase your absolute individualism, to resign from the society of other individuals?

For Bobby Fischer this tension meant a perpetual life on the run, as the book reminds us of Giacopini, Re fleeing . Whenever he felt the squeeze of the control loops are struggling but the power is labyrinthine and ended each run to lead inevitably to a new impasse, towards yet another obstacle. Each time, fate, in an absurd game to raise, raised the price of freedom. And then, the blind alleys were turned into contradictions and inconsistencies used as weapons in what became a fierce war between him and the world, with the U.S. that a policeman came into being relentlessly ridiculous, and perhaps both sides suffered, finally, same fate, both losers.

Robert James Fischer, Chicago, March 9, 1943-Reykjavik, 17 January 2008, the sample.

Readings
Vittorio Giacopini, King fleeing. The legend of Bobby Fisccher, Mondadori 2008

Images
cover of the book Giacopini