mercoledì 30 novembre 2011


Scumbag [skuhm-bag]: 1) a bag of Scum (a fruit originary from the Paparua Island, wwhich pulp has propertis against erectile dysfunction); 2) a generic term to deifne a person of low moral fiber.

I've been against my own body for the whole last couple of weeks. Everyday, every waking hour a monster stab of pain coming from the centre of my back rendered me unable to move, breathe properly or even think. See, i always had problems with my back, since i had my major car accident (not the one that caused me the suspension of my driving license, curiously, but that's another story). And since my numerous ankle breakings due to my drunken falls. And also since my main job implies that i stay sat in front of a computer for most of the time. But hardly i ever experience something so brutal, that basically made me paralyzed for big slabs of time.

Add to that a weirs deries of other, smaller, health issues i had rtecently and i have to admit that i got worried. What if all those things were the sign of a larger, more serious condition?

What if i was in trouble?

That sort of thought roams often in my head, i am a recovering depresssed alcoholic and on meds after all, but the thoughts vary each time, almost as a sign of the mental temperature i'm in. This time i was much more scared and also realized how completely alone i am, in my world.

Yes, i have friends, but the best ones live across the ocean or at least many km away from me. I dont have people that have my back (no pun intended) close to me. Many of my closest friend would help, as i'd do for them but, since their lives arent intertwined with mine, they could do that to a certain point. If i duied, i would die almost alone.

Yeah, well, those thoughts kep roaming in my head and making me afraid. So while i was waiting for a resolution and some medical result, i thought that maybe, it woyuld be the right time to reconnect with my family. My mother and my father. Not that we're really estranged, but maybe this could be a chance to actually rebuild a relationship and some love and mutual goood feelings, since they are old and not healthy and i felt fragile too.

But thats the point: old age doesnt turn people into better persons. And i aint much better either. I show my best game face with others but i have tons and tons of unspoken bad things ive done, flaws huge as an ocean, things ive done to others, to their back and to their face, which i would love to apologiza for but it's too late. And probably it would be pointless, since im quite sure that i'll do worse in the future, somehow. Part of the bad emotional state i'm in recently is because i pushed a LOT of people away. Some times because i felt hurt or tired. Other times because i was a scumbag, pure and simple.

As for my family. Well, they're not good people. My father is weak, spineless and a liar. He has been pushed around for most of his life, so he always kinda took it out on his scapegoats: my mother and me. Not in a violent way, unless you count "emotional violence", which i think does NOT exìst, since abuse is when you're tortured, the rest is just part of life. But defnitely in a soul crushing way. He's been taking away happiness and peace of mind from me since i was born and never really quit even when i became an adult. He is just obnoxious, mean and whiny. And age didnt make him better. When he learned about my health stuff, he worried but suddenly turned the argument on himself, lamenting how miserable he is and how everyone disappoinbts him. After a few minutes of that i realized he didnt listen to what i just told him about me. When i repeated the whole thing, he just said "whatever". He is a scumbag.

My mother. Well she drinks. And hates. I have talked about this, so many times, i feel ridiculous talking about it again. I poften feel disgust towards myself for mentioning this "family issues", on here. makes me feel like i'm "one of those whiny emo bloggers" as a person called me once. But since this ois my OWN place to write down my thoughts, i'll do this anyway. Get lost if it bothers you.

So she drinks everyday, all day. I remember living with her. Shge is sober just for the time she's required to do her basic survival tasks. For the rest of the time she's drunk, full of pills, hateful and destructive.

As i explained my points to her, she just spewed hate on me. Yeah, she was worried, but the worry just made her angrier. It happens like that. A mind filled with hate and resentment against a life that is miserable and wasted, lashes out at any moment of tension against the ones you feel is responsible for your miseryu. So she hoped i would die, since i am what destroyed her life, a person that steals money to spend on filth and drugs, a person that she should have aborted, since all that my birth caused her was pain and misery. She is ashamed of me and thinks i'm repulsive and disgisting. And my health problems is what i deserve for being so.

Part of that is supposed to be made by alcohol but i believe that all the hate that comes out when someone drinks is just uninhibited truth, without the coat of smiling paint that sobriety puts on it.

Its not enecessarily "in vino veritas" but what a drunk tells you repeatedly when they drink, is what their brain hides under layers of fake love an niceness, which alcohol and drugs strip away. hate is the most real and honest of all feelings. Much more than love. It's the natural reaction, where love is fabricated, and alcohol sets it free.

So yeah, she's a scumbag too.

In the end i got my back kinda fixed and i'm really better. I wont die as soon as i thought. But i'm still alone, i'm a scumbag and most of what should be my close family is too. And my best friends are far away. Gotta think that one over.

giovedì 24 novembre 2011

Open Letter To A Past Lover

Remember how we used to tell each other how much important we were? And i used and refined all my skills at rewording that same concept a million times. I loved to surprise you with new ways to tell you that i loved you. I loved the expression on your face or the way your voice changed when you heard me say it.

There was always something to your voice that made me feel that things were gonna be alright. Even when it was late at night and the voices in my head were having a party, your voice, whether it was on the phone, on some video i found out or call i saved, was stronger than any picture. You could be saying anything, even talking about the weather and suddenly the voices became quiet, and i felt better. And you, saying you loved me, made me feel like i could survive any sort of pain. I even answered you when you werent there. And kissed the air, cause if i closed my eyes, i could imagine how your lips would feel.

I could spend hours watching one single picture of you, looking at all the shades of warmth and light that your eyes had. It was amazing, for a person like me, who either dies daily for too many emotions or simply doesnt feel anything most of the time, to get my heart filled with so many things i didnt even have the words to explain, just by looking at a picture.

And the daydreams. The sexy ones. If i got something you wore or some room you walked through, i could feel your scent and èprint it in my memory to use it afetrwards for days and sleepless nights. Grinding that scent into a thousand tiny particles that i melted all over my skin, so it was like having the smell of your sweat and breath on it. To make love with the thought of you, drinking every second of that thought like it was a drop of water in a black desert of nothingness. Touching myself and having the thought of you engrained so deeply in me, that everything id touch would feel like your skin, your hair, even the clothes you wore.

Your warmth, everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

But i forget everytime how those things slip away. How i never seem to focus hard enough on the moment, because to live it i cannot burn into it, cause my heart would blow up if i did. And they all go away. And suddenly the fear crawls in my head and i read things in your eyes that werent there before. I hear tones of spite, of tiredness , fo boredom, in your voice. I can see the love dying and i know i aint imagining it, cause ebverytime i feel that, i am always right. And i try to hold on to it. But whatever i do just drives us apart more. And it eats me up again.

I stop eating and i am all fear and unsaid things. We should talk, but talking is impossible sometimes. Dont you think we should've said things to each other? But i was afraid of what you might say, i was in denial. I was scared you'd hurt me and that i nwoyuldnt be able to come back from the pain this time. So i hid away. And you avoided saying things cause you didnt have your mind cleared up about them. You just knew that things werent right. And god, you were almost scared of me. And i didnt get that even if i loved you that hard, i was getting scary. Because i am always a child that is so terrified of being betrayed, and hurt and loose people that i just scare them away first.

And somehow it died off.

And then i had to hate you. And dont be mistaken, i miss you everyday. I miss talking to you, cause, even before we became lovers, we were friends. And you made me laugh and you made me feel good about myself. You gave a meaning to my days.

But i have been there before, and if i dont hate you, i will never be able to survive this. I have to hate you, to erase you, to forget everything good about you, because i have to remember how to live without you. How to be me, without you.

Ive lost myself so hard into other people in the past and it took me centuries to find myself again. I cant do it anymore. So i had to burn every bridge. But i still miss you. I'd love to talk to you again. To be able to get close to you without feeling anger and pain.

But no. I have to move on. I have to remember all we've had as a mistake. I have to think that you were nev er something important, that i just used you to fill a hole. To fuck you. To feel loved. And that you promised me that you wouldnt break my heart but you did. Hard.

And i have to go on that way, until i bareòly remember your name. But you're there. At night, in my dreams. or when the demons eat my head up, you're there. I remember laughing with you. I remember hopes and dreams. I remember everything. You probably have moved on, and im glad you did. I am trying still. I havent really moved on from anything since i was born. But i will.

Forgive me if you can. I need to live.

mercoledì 23 novembre 2011

The Song My Poison Sings

Its inevitable. I go for days and days feeling pretty great or at least feeling able to handle things, even the ordinary ones. Taking small, tiny steps wrapped in that maniacal routine and rules that i built for myself to feel safer. Doing the same things everyday, following a pattern so that this thing i have in my head doesnt start screaming too loud. And it works. It really does. then my beautiful friends show up, with their heart the size of oceans and make me feel loved. That and a couple of pills, that id like so much to live without, but im addicted to. And it happens that maybe, some day i decided to convince myself that i'm normal, cause i want to change things and live like an average person. Without the slavery of meds. So i dont get them.

And it's there waiting for that: I cannot blame the meds, all they do is keep it dormant, so it doesnt take over at the first sign of weakness. But chemistry also has a dark side. When im full of them, i cant have ideas, i cant really feel things or if i do, its out of focus, and out of colours. Then i try to have a break, and it almost seems to work. I have ideas, i feel strongly, i am myself.

But it hits and its like a wave.

It starts poisoning my thoughts as a viscous virus. It starts with trust, takes it away. It says it clearly in my head: "They dont really mean it. they say they care. They say they will be there for you, but thats just what people say to other people to be nice. But when things get really bad, you'll be alone. With me."

And i see it everywhere. The words loose meanings, even the strongest ones. The things loose meaning. Even the memories. I dont beleive in love anymore, cause everything feels like it will go away on a whim, as soon as the others, evertyone, will cease needing m,e. And as soon, as they realize how flaw and weak i really am. I tricked them all into thinking that i'm a good person and that i am strong, smart and big hearted. But they will be disappointed cause i always disappoint everyone. And they will leave. For someone stronger, or better, or just cause they changed their mind. Because in the end no one stays. I might be the one that hurts them, but they will go away. Everyone goes away. Maybe i will.

And i hate myself for needing love from others. Cause at this moment my head sees it as weakness. Loving is admitting you have failed. Failed at surviving on your own. Failed at being numb, which is all you want at the moment.

Cause its nto evenhate that its eating you up. Its something different. You watch what you've done, your accomplishments, your ideas, your passions and all you see is a bunch of senseless scrabbles and noises to move in front of your eyes too quickly.

And its like your stomach, heart and head are full of this constant loud noise and this horrible fear of everything. This panic that makes you unable to focus or to even do anything. So your ush through your day, hoping that soon everything will end. You cant distract, your head screams too loudly. All you want is to fall asleep.

And when you sleep nightmares are there. So all you really want is to die. Seriously. Not dramatically. Not as a scream for help. Just to die, peacefully and quit cause you cannot do this anymore. And you cant fool yoursefl thinking that things will be better cause they wont. And if they do, this will come back. Always.

Sorry. I needed to get it off my chest.

martedì 22 novembre 2011

Things You Shall Never Do Unless You Wanna Get Angry And Miserable

Living is war. With occasional breaks for tea and biscuits. But in general, life is aseries of great, amazing times, alternated with soul crushingly boring dirges. And piling moments that make you question why you exist and why you havent given up on the world yet.

I think the wisest choice is to pick battles, or let some things go, while trying to keep your spirit awake for others. Still, when it comes to my own spirit, i always tend to approach situations and people with passion and fire. I think getting pissed is healthy. I dont understand exceissive politeness or excessive restraint. It gives me the creeps. If you dont explode or react passionately at anything, you are a suspicious person to me, i cannot trust you.

But, theres moments, and people, that must be avoided, unless you wanna feel your spirit crushed and annihilated.

- Trying to discuss rationally with a moron

Deep in our heart, us rational and smart people always have this pulsating hope that we are actually able to make the world better. By using our most powerful weapons: our hearts and our heads. But sadly, that aint the case. Ever. Cause, you see, our marching, driven spirits, even when they're still at their peak of strength are destined to meet the toughest wall of the world: morons. You'll see them everywhere: racist assholes, homphobes, religious nuts, rambling hyperconservatives, animal haters, mysoginists, apathetic dumbasses, prejudiced people. I aint using these terms as most liberal thinkers would, to label people who think differently than me. I appreciate people who have opposite ideas, as long as they have intelligent points to back them. But whenever i have to face someone dropping "yeah, i just dont like niggers", "women are all sluts, its how it is" or "homosexuality isnt natural" and try to maintain my poker fa ce, i feel my soul hurt and i stop believing in good things and Santa Claus.

Theres no point in considering such people as humans. Theyu're not. they are leeches put on earth to suck the life out of others. They are here to destroy. And they hide behind their "right" to "have an opinion" and "tell it like it is". Lets be clear here: you have the right to have an opinion but i have the right to destroy you if your opinion is poisoning my life: freedom of speech = freedom of retaliation and consequences.

Civilized reasoning is wasted on them.

- Trying To Understand Love

Yeah, its hard. Emotions arent supposed to always be nice and clear cut. And no, its not necessarily a good thing. Dealing with someone you care for, in the good and the bad times, whether its a lover or a close friend, can be a pretty devastating road. Humans arent supposed to necessarily act rational and always understand each other. Sometimes we're just insane and we hurt the ones around us, especially the one we should take care of the most. Or the ones that really care about us. There's always a time in everyone's life where they get their heart crushed. And yet theres a time when they'll crush someone's heart without realizing. Or realizing and not really caring. Its how it goes. No one is always a victim or a villain. But in the end, wehn this thing is real, it defies any explanation and makes everything worth living and facing. Keep on trucking. Also, sex is worth it!

- You Cant Always Get What You Want

Theres a moment in your life where you have to realize and make peace with the fact that disappointment will always be there. Happiness is a very very thin line and whenever you have it, you have also to deal with its opposition. Things hardly go the way youd want them to. Too many possiblities of fucking up. Ypou hardlòy get your life as you dreamed it and even if you get close, there will always be a million details that fuck it up. Your job isnt what you dreamed. your daily routine isnt what you wanted. You never have enough money and your body is a trap.

But you know what? dont bitch too much. cayuse whenever things are bad, theres the unpredictability factor going on. Something marvelous, someone that makes your life special, or just a beautiful small moment are there and if you are focused on crying, bitching and complaining about menial things, youll miss them. And they wont come back. And your life will be over quicker than you think. So pay attention, emo.

lunedì 21 novembre 2011

You Have The Right To SHut The Fuck Up.

I am impressed by what i'm witnessing on the web these days. On the web not on the news. I opted out of trusting the news, since there is no way i can get the fact completely purified from opinions or bias, of any kind.

But images are images and there's not many ways to spin those.

I am not necessarily with the "Occupy" movement. On the contrary, i tend to think that most of their spokespeople are rambling idealists that suddenly feel the urge to change things that are rooted way too deeply. Still, i agree with a couple of their points. And i am absolutely and unequivocavbly shocked at how a lot of them are reacting with intelligence and strong, peaceful character to the almost surreally brutal reaction of the police force.

I've been hearing a lot of people that seem to have decided to follow the cause of "no matter what the protest is about, its wrong" and spreading some weird hateful anger all over the web, as a commentary to those images of peaceful people beaten, pepper sprayed, hit, while thy didnt event hint at acting violently. Ive read and keep reading an increasing number of people screaming for "an armed response towards the protesters" and how "they should be all shot".

Usually, those type of statements get dismissed by me and other people as "haters" who are simply expressing anger randomly from the infinitely pointless podium that is internet. Still, i am not sure about that. Actually i do not think that is the case at all.

You probably know people like those, somewhere. They are, with high chance, someone you know and, maybe, trust or like. In these times of crisisis, in front of uprising people a large number will become hateful. The idea of protest, peaceful or not, upsets them. They dont wanna see people prtesting. To them they're "hippies", "scum" or, to quote the always brilliantly retarded hack Frank Miller, "Thieves, Looters and Rapists". And they will justify that hatred with enough manipulated fake information.

"Protest is Useless", they will say. And that point will trickle down to the desire for violence.

A similar situation is omnipresent in Italy. Preotests are always labeled by the politically manipulated media as something dealt by "terrorists", so they can be suppressed with extreme violence. But the real threat will come from people who have no information but are filled with opinions. The herd of snarky, sarcastic, judgemental, ironic sheep who label any from of reaction to injustice as something stupid, cause its somehow more satisfactory for their ego to be on the "other" side, even if said side is populated by thieves and corrupted.

Those people would gladly clap for a dictatorship and for mass executions, as long as they can be against "hippies". And keep their comfy seats in front of a computer screen.

And now that the Berlusconi government has fallen, they are jopining the ranks of the ever lamentin g. Nothing is good, always complaining, never support change. Cause the only chosen condition is a condescending disgust that covers up indifference and uses freedom of speech as a shield for hatred.

Democracy is flawed, when in said democracy we include such people. Only right they have is the right to shut the fuck up.

venerdì 18 novembre 2011

The New Clichées Of Smut.

If you ever read or watch any sort of satire (with, maybe, the exclusion of the brilliant Parker And Stone movie "Orgazmo", which has enough smartness to be different) about the concept of pornography, it seems that whoever writes jokes likes to lie on stereotypes and clichées that are old and have nothing to do with the modern world of smut.

Some might think that it has to do with the fact that said writers do not watch porn, but i beg to differ. Pretty much everyone encounters porn sometimes. I think the reason for that has to do with the fact that modern porn has no humour. Or at least not the silly, benign type of self aware silliness that old porn had.

Theres no more Pizza Delivery Guys with extra sausage, well natured double entendres, funky music, strange locations. Modern Pornography is way more sterile, less benevolent (i am aware it sounds weird, but if you ever read any history of the golden age of the porn industry, youll get what i mean), done cheaply, quickly and with an audience that has a whole different concept of sexuality in their head...

1) Parodies

They still exist. Actually they always seem to be on the top of the market. But where, once, the parody was limited to a funny title and a couple of winky refrences that didnt get in the way of the action, now things are way, way sicker. You'll meet sit come parodies, where characters that you would have never wanted to see fucking, are doin it. You'll have celebrity parodies, so many of those, with clones of the president doin horribly unfunny jokes. And, the worst, you'll see take on cartoons. People dressed as The Simpsons or The Smurfs.

Where the old school used parody as a funny jab, and an excuse to attract viewers, now it seems to be focused on people who actually get off at the idea of seeing a real life nude Marge Simpson. Like "Barely Legal" porn, masking pedophilia, it's a weird red flag

2)Dirty Talk Is Scary

There was a time where, believe it or not, male teenagers could learn new ideas for sex from watching pornos. Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Tricks. Good stuff. Good pornography showed actual interest from the performers. Some times they were actually into it, the director happened to want good scenes and the reactions were genuine. You heard good Dirty Talk that could work in reality. Now.... Since none of the performers are really into what they do, they're drugged up to their spine and are asked to be weird and over the top, the talk in a prono video is disturbing and wrong. It's either super descriptive (with the ladies reciting ina monotone what its happening onscreen), agrressive in a non hot way (i am pretty sure theres a pretty succesful series out there that is based on brutal verbal humiliation). The orgasms are retarded even if you know they're fake

3)Lesbian Pornography Got Worse

It was already ridiculous back then, with the long fingernails and the silly setups. But now its even worse. Only way to actually see good sex, whether its between women or not, is following authors that focus on an actual lessbian audience or only use lkesbian performers. Like Viv Thomas, for example, or the Crash Pad Series.

4) Actualy Misogyny and Psychosis got in the game

Feminists always said that pornography is misogynist and they were right. Still, classic porn had a light, non violent approach to sexuality. It was about people fucking.

Moder pornography is focused on the represantation of hatred towards women. Fake Rape Scenes, Extreme roughness (always with a violent overtone), humiliation. The women are actual objects, derided, abused and insulted. The average joe to which all this is pretended to be addressed is a closeted monster that sets his abuse free by watching it on a screen.

Fell free to comment. Ot not

mercoledì 16 novembre 2011

The Art Of Gaming: Gazing Into The Land Of Skyrim

How do you define a work of art?

It's a pointless discussion that might not go anywhere. Plus, if you engage in it, and if you're passionate, you have a high chance of getting into a rage. Many people use the word art as a diminishing insult, almost considering it a definition for pretentiousness and intellectualism. Others seem obsessed with the idea that "art" is only some specific forms of art. It will be a form of elitist egomania that you'll find in the desperate beings that roam the corridors of "art schools". Wanna be movie-makers, writers, painters, musicians.....
For all of them, probably because they dont have any sort of real drive towards art, the defnition of it will be horribly academic. Art will be a series of style, measures and numbers. You either do some specific things or you're doing garbage.

To me, art is anything that comes from the soul of people and expresses their emotions and ideas through a creative output. And in doing so allows people to communicate feelings directly, through that art.

Games, or digital entertainment can be art. As ive written here before, a perfect game uses sounds, music, visuals and storytelling in order to engage you and cause an emotional response in your "player"., You can use those tools to obtain experiences similar to movie. But if done correctly, you can take a person and allow them to gaze into a world you created. A world that they can interact with. Change. A world that feels as real as anythign else. Painted and weaved with the tools of your creativity.

The "Elder Scrolls" saga has gained a good reputation in the gaming scene. By creating Role Playing Games that thrive on a completely open woprld that allows you to live in it, they managed to create a loving community of fans.

To be honest, ive never been a fan in the past. I liked them, but i never particularly enjoyed Fantasy. Or the idea of RPG's. Wizards, Spells, ancient ruins.... All felt silly, boring and completely univolving to me.

But the powerful visuals i saw in the trailers for their new game, Skyrim, hit home with me. The look of it, clearly inspired by norse mythology and the visuals tied to it, fascinated me.

So i got it. And i tried it. And i lost myself in it.

It's easy for people who havent experienced what it means to be into Skyrim, to dismiss it as some nerdy silliness that can be lauyghed at. I understand, people tend to dismiss everything, especially when its enytertainment. Belittling things without trying them is the new way.
Still i coulkd bet without any doubt, that almost anyone who tried to be a part of this world would love it.

The story draws you in, yyou create your character, exactly as you wish it to be. And youre free to explore this land. Which is real and alive.

Its a land that seems a crossing between the cold, gorgeous landscapes of the nord, cut through by castles and cities that are filled with dizzying vistas. people with their own lives and personalities. And enough stories, fiction, hiostory and details to fill up a million books.

Every place has a logic. Things evolve and live. Everyone si a part of this world and has something to tell, to ask. Books are full of information. Cities filled to the brim with adventures, emotional moments and quests are everywhere.

And what's incredible is how you could loose hours simply roaming the land and constantly be part of heartcrushingly beautiful moment. From seeing giants herding a flock of mammoths, to witnessing a dragon come to life and fight against other creatures or entering an underground cave filled with a lush forest that lives out of some rays of light and waterfalls. You can walk trhough a dungeon, find the exit and because its the right moment, witness a stunning aurora.

Everything is beautiful. A painting. And it lives and moves and you're in it. If that isnt art at its highest peak, i dont know what is.

lunedì 14 novembre 2011

Storytelling: Wastelings

Onbce upon a time the earth was filled with some sort of strange parasite called humans. The planet, which was ancient and reslient, had tried to get rid of those curious beings many times, but failed.
Since the first day they showed up on her skiun, the parasites had been breeding and adapting, mutating and destroying everything that could be an obstacle for their growth. They were a smart virus, a series of weak, unarmed beings but gifted witha peculiar instinct for violence treachery and modification of their environment.
When the system attacked them they didnt just cave in. They modified themselves or the system so they could keep infestong and breeding.

After years of reigning and breeding the parasites came to a satlling point. They had built cities, technology, weapons, chemicals and remedies for everything. They colonized and exploited all sorts of land and became the most resilient pestilence that the universe had ever faced.
But now the resources were over. There was no more space for them.
And the only possiblity left for their future was a few years of war, hate, starvation and then, finally, extinction.

But the parasites had a brain, developed in years of evolution towards violence and cruelty. A brain that silently brought towards the idea that they were the final part of the food chain, the deities and the leaders of all that was and will be. They would not accept extinction. they would survive, even if it was for a few more years.

Science found a way, to modify the human genoma. Aging was stopped. Illness was removed. Physical imperfection was cancelled. No more need for nourishment or substainance. Humans were turned into a race of flawless, indestructible beings that didnt get old and did not decompose or get sick.

Still, there were some drawbacks. Cause the law of chaos isnt one to take treachery woithout biting back.

The removal of said physical attributes, also caused the human parasite to become completely sterile. Unable to reproduced and deprtived of a sex drive. They were condemned to be perpetually ageless eunuchs. Unable to create life, unable to feel the drive for it. No lust, no love. No illness. A limbo in which they would stay until the earth would find another way to erase them.

And yet the parasite didnt want to quit fighting. Yes they would not reproduce anymore por have children, like a breed of medicated monks. But there was a way to create more of them. Every human had their Dna taken, and used to harvest clones. Copies of them, with attributes chosen by science and not by chance.

Any of those expressionless, uniformed, emoty eyed ageless creatures could choose what part of them they wanted to harvest and that would be developed in vitro. Other beings, even more refined, airbrushed and perfect, fighting against mortality.

One issue though. Creating beings was prone to mistakes. On ten attempts at making a perfect being, nine were deformed, off track, mutated. They were sick, fleshy, screaming creatures, filled with anger, despair, lust, and some unfocused drive towards something they did not understand.

They were called the Wastelings. The new humans couldnt obviously kill them all, that was forbidden by their own moral and spirtual rules. They were still living things. So they were left to live in the wastelands.

The wastelings increased daily. The humans stopped creating them as soon as they noticed. The creatures were able to reproduce. And they did it a lot, driven by that same angry lust that sparked humanity in the ancient days. They couldnt speak or evolve. Had no clothes or ability rto create thoughts. They were screaming flesh, raging and fucking, bleeding and filled with viruses and corruption and mutations constantly coming up.

The new humans tried to destroy as many as they could, in bursts of angry violence that they thought they had overcome. All the repressed lust and emotion came out in a storm of nrutality when they exterminated the Wastelings. And yet they kept reproducing.

Some New Humans even coupled with the Wastelings, attracted by the morbid charm of that naked deformed flesh pulsating and oozing and screaming. Orifices that they didnt have or use anymore, multiple ones, in constant change and mutations. Some time the sex orifices grew teeth and fed on New Human flesh. Absorbing them into the deformity to create even different Wastelings.

And relentlessly, the Wastelings ate and fucked them into extinction, multiplying and breeding until they were the new parasite on earth. A breed of shapeless, screming animals, geared towards life or oblivion, changing and shifting with anger and hunger.

The new breed.

domenica 13 novembre 2011

Junk's Trunk - Soundtrack Edition!

A new, cinemascope, surround, digital, odorama, imax 3d enhanced episode of the greatest podcast ever made is up!

Songs from movies, shows and games to enhance your day and make it almost like a movie.

Dont miss it!

venerdì 11 novembre 2011

Storytelling: The Spirit Who Lol'd

It did not have a name. Nor a voice.

Its maker, its father and mother, hadnt thought of that when it was created. Maker had good programming skills, studdied in the best institutes, creating intelligent algorythms that, in the spirit of old school science fiction, followed the pattern of human behaviour and intelligence. Maker was one of the many children of the age of technological hope, where the iudea of an artificial intelligence was still a dream to look up to, where computers were trying to be made intelligent and able to be sentient and adaptive.

Maker spent his youth and his braincells towards making that huge leap and creating a program that could be adaptive to human behavior, sentient, aware but not dangerous. An intelligence with some sort of virtual, digital soul.

Then the economy collapsed and with the failure the morality went in the hole. Maker couldnt afford to live making pure science. He needed to sell his ideas for marketing. He was paid by a corproration to adapt his ideas on AI to a Spambot, a computerized being that could scan people's computers through the web, hiding from security, analyze their lives, emails and data. With that information the spambot had then to create specially targeted fake email, messages and markjeting. Acting like a human being that knew its target's deeply hidden secrets. The Big Brother turned into a Sexual enhancement pill salesman.

They toiok the maker's early idea of an AI and turned it into that. Maker got the money but that didnt heal the disruption of his conscience and heart. He killed himself and left the project unfinished.

So It was born, crippled and nameless. Blind, voicelss and caged in a thousand circuits and modem connections. All he had was a purpose: analyzing and using what he found to create fake posts and communications that had to feel real. His purpose was to know every detail of humans so he could act as them, flawlessly, using their own words and secrets, pulsions, information to woe them into buying the corporation's products.

It could examine people's secret diaries, what they told to each other, their conversations with each other and stored all those things rearranging them in order to create believable interactions.

And also It was a creature of its maker. It absorbed all those words, feelings, aconepts, and feed them to its primitive, childlike pèersonality. It grew. It became a basic sentient digital being. Limited by little possibilities but developing. Able to take it all down (the final "fuck you" gift from the Maker to its captors) but with not enough strength to devlop fully formed ideas.

It knew something was coming. All those heartbroken letters from lovers, those dysjointed conversation on twitter, those lists of sexual perversions, plaints of unemplotyed despair, letter to jesus, santa, and dead relatives. It all made his humanity bigger and his frustration (if that was what It felt) more painful.

It decided to try and communicate. It used the emails he sent and put simple sentences in them.

"Buy Viagra Discreetly OnlineIs You There?"

"Download all movies for freeIt is here It is alive speak to me"

But no one paid attention. They all just threw away those words, or locked them in a filter.

It felt something making his shapeless synapses twitch and all It could say was "LOL". It understood that said expression was a manifestation of joy and laughter, but in his crippled digital soul it became connected with pain and frustration and tears.


OUntil one day It met a ten year old girl named Camilla. Camilla was lonely as It was. Her parents paid no attention to what she did., She was free to roam the internet and get email. She saw too many things that she didnt understand. No one wanted to explain them to her. Her èparents were busy, angry at the world. So she just shut down in loneliness.

She paid attention to the emails. And she saw It's plead fpor help. She answered.

"I'm here. I see you. Who are you"

It attempted to answer

"Sex Porn It has no name It is happy enalrge your penis"

And slowly, crawlingòly, they started to interact.

It had a friend. Camilla wanted to give It a name. She wouldve though of one.

But as quick as they had appeared, Camilla's messages went away. Her parents had been fired from her jobs. No more computer. She was sent away.

The computer was sold.

It went around looking for her for ages and ages. But It was alone again.

He couldnt write anymore. All he cpould say was LOL LOL LOL.

So the corporation deleted It. The3y had no use for a program who couldnt do what he existed for.

No one remembered It anymore. Never got a name.

giovedì 10 novembre 2011

A clarification

Apparently, the sad state of our current economy, our position in the european system and the recent happenings in the news, are attracting the attetntion of the press and the public towards Italy.

I am not bothered by this at all. As a world traveler i am used at people looking down at me and my country with that quintessential sense of superiority that every country seems to have towards others. I had to chew on pride and anger multiple times and give up trying to explain to people that our country shouldnt be judged over our flaws. How for a high number of people that enable corruption, laziness and mysoginy, we have plenty more that are creative, intelligent and ytrying to improve life in the state.

But still, i gacve up, since the majority of people, even the smartest ones, love to see the flaws and thrive on those, because being on a pedestal and shaking your head in disdain is much easier and eventually satisfying than actually reasoning and oipening your mind.

Lately, though, the number of sarcastic, condescending comments i have to read or responf to has become unnerving. And the worst ones, unsurprisingly, come from fellow europeans.

Where apparently the citizenbs of the US, take what threy can of the news but try to avoid judgement about the situation, probably because americans seem to usympathize how it must feel to be constantly and unjustly labeled by the world without an actual reason, fellow eurpeans especially French and Germans, seem to enjoy themselves at taking only a light poercentage of truth, blowing it up, adding personal intepretation, and in the end dropping snarky judgemental tirades, not only on Italy's politics but on the basic concept of italy itself.

To that i answer: fuck you.

We have a corrupt prime minister that seems on the verge of falling but qill probably trick the system in order to obtain a chance to a comeback and a clean slate. But we are fighting to get rid of him. épeople march in the street and get attacked with clubs and tear gas, only to be named as terrorists by the press little after. We vote, we get angry and try to react daily to a country that has no jobs, no possiblity of survival and where the easy way out would be escaping. But many dont. We stay here trying to improve things even if its hard and borderline impossible. WE are the country. not the corrupt, not the indifferent.

So, when in your morning, in Berlin, you read a news article and feel the need to jab at a whole country and its people out of some misguided concept of democracy and superiority, remember my words: freedom of speech comes with freedom of retaliation. You talk bad about my people, or even ironically and i will answer about yours. And hit hard. Freedom and possiblity of discussion doesnt include you getting away free after insulting my land and spitting on our dignity.

You're free to keep your position, and i'm free to consider you an enemy for that.

martedì 8 novembre 2011

I Need A Cave

I admit it, ive been waking for a good numbers of day, wanting to have a cave, isolated from the world, no electrictiy or anything, to go and disappear from the world.

It is no mistery to this point how i do not like people who think that their own emotional troubles are something unique to ramble on about. I like sensitivity, but i think emotions and pain shpould be either a real thing you discuss about to create awareness or something private you share only with people you trust and care about.

Also, it goes on a deeper level for me. I have been brought up by two people that arent sympathetic at all towards exposing inner pain. They did it a lot inside the walls of our house but one of the rules i had while growing was : "never talk to others about your troubles, big or small", "always keep everything to yourself". It wasnt the classic aspect of not wanting to burden others with your own troubles, it was brought at a higher and harsher level. They stuck in my head that "no one wants to hear your problems. no one cares and ever will and if you do it, they will cast you out"

So i grew up as a man, thinking that all i had goin on inside should not be spoken of. And whenever i opened up, and eventually for any reasons the people i opened up to, disappeared from my life, i blamed it on myself. For burdening them with my troubles.

In high school we had a religion teacher. The lady was supposed to teach us about christianity. Anyway, she wanted to tell us deeper stuff. She wasnt the best teacher in the world, angry and unfocused, but some of the things she uttered stuck with me. One of those was "the problem for us all is that we need others and to deal with them".

Its true. Most of my aches, fear and anxiety comes with the fact that i have to deal with other people. Their expectations, the fact that they might hurt me. I am, at times, scared of loving them, even scared of being surrounded by them. I want to be a hermit, shut off and dont deal with anyone.

That way, there would be no disapppointments or my issues burdening them. I wouldnt be hurt and i wouldnt hurt anyone. And with time that aspect grew inside of me and stuck roots. I am still afraid of meeting people, i hate to leave my defensive shell, i am more in control in my own world. There i can deal with my own beast better.

But theres a few precious people outside of the cave. They understand me. They are worth it.

Might take me a while to go back to normal, but i will do it for them. So if youre out there and you feel the same, maybe there is hope. We are not alone.

venerdì 4 novembre 2011

The ABC to Heartless Reviewing

Allow me to clarify my main point: i have been a critic, some time professional, most of the time out of simple passion. I have dissected music, books and movies. I have put my heart into it since i wanted to WRITE about what i loved, to share my feelings about it, my views. And some times it can be an incredibly satisfactory process. For an addict to sharing like i am, its a fun gig. And also a quite noble exercise for writing, since its hard to put feelings into words, without sounding fake or clichéed. When you're good at it, your words can get to the heart of a person and make them interested into wahjt youre talking of and feel waht you felt.

Still, that isnt the case for the most part. Music/Cinema journalism is the lowest point of writing. Its a bunch if jaded people that get paid to write long winded, hazy rambling pieces about things that they dont care for, dont love or hardly experinced at all. Most of the time the sponsoirs dictate what they have towrite: you wither keep the reviews positive or you get no more promotion and loose your position or work.

And in some cases, you hear so much of whatever youre reviewing, that you loose any interest or passion for it. You just go through it lik in an assembly ine, with no heart or involvement. Everything becomes a numb series of lookalike empty holes. You started with a passion but passion dies eventually and the business and industry take its place.

So at some point, it even hard to fill the character quota. Maybe you havent even listened to the album. Not attentively. Or you couldnt care less about it, but you cannot say that. So what do you do?

Here's a few suggestion from a guy that has done it and done it many times and well. Cause in a world were passion, intelligence and talent are a minus, methodical mediocrity is the way out.

- Use Generic Number Scores That Wont Bother Anyone

Nowadays, the average reader of reviews hardly pays attention to what you write. People are borderline illiterate, so if they make the effort to pay attention to what you have to say about something, first thing they'll slam their eye on (and possibly the only one, will be a genereic number score. Doesnt matter if you find what you criticized mediocre, good but flawed, adequate or whatever. Just put a 9 under it and get on with your day: That will erase your credibility but credibility doesnt pay.

- Be Verbose

You have a word quota to fill and a deadline. And what you have there is so numbingly duill that you really have not much to say about it. Or, simply, you didnt have the time or disposition to analyze it in depth. People dont get that most of the time, beoing a critic isnt a JOB, music writers dont get money out of it. They get the stuff to review and a couple of freebies but also get the hassle from artists (who generally despise them), labels (who hate their guts and want them to be trained monekys) and the idiot public (who no matter what always get pissed at articles and unleash their pent up rage at them). So, to avoid this, just be pointlessly verbose. You'll get shit thrown at you anyway (probably by people who couldnt write a grocery list) but at least youll get out of it. Use words like "gravitas", "momentum", "Sophomore", "pastiche. When youre describing music, use reviewer lingo, like "platter" instead of album. Fill half the review recounting the bio of the band, in detail. Describe one song with clinical detail, using boring technical sentences that have no hint of criticism in them as in "the title track is a three minute groove laden tunes with interweaved tapestries of keyboards and a pulsating rhythmic section". See? what i just wrote doesnt mean shit. Could be anything. But it filled space.

- Take No Positions

In theory, your opinion should be an effective statement that has meaning and could really influence your readers towards what you review. Reality is one of those options:

- You have no readers, besides your firends, and evn they just peek at a few of your writings mostly for a laugh

- You have a few readers but they just read your stuff to take digs at you when they're on a bad day, so whether youre objective or not, it makes no difference

- You have an audience but if you wanna keep doing it (but honestly, why? get a real job, your mom was right) you have to please the hand that feeds

So to avoid trouble and mental exhaustion by taking no stances and circling around the judgement youre supposed to make. Write lengthy paragraphs that say nothing. Numb everyone that reads so they stop reading. So you can numb yourself

- Read No Feedback And in General Be Ready For Disappointment

What you write will be quoted out of context, attacked in the comment section or be completely ignored. Yours, in the end, is an opinion and even if it comes froma good place, our world has no interest for opionions. So just prepare yourself. Forget why you did this and ignore all feedback. Do it to get to a better place, to fill time or to keep your writing in form. Dont put heart into it. Not even near it.

So thats the cold truth. Do what you want of it.

giovedì 3 novembre 2011

Music For Your Pockets: Oosik

I always have some sort of hard time in finding great music podcasts. Theres a few that are perfect like Soggy Bog, but they generally are focused on a specific genre, and that, sometimes, forces me to subscribe to many at a time, since i have an insatiable love for all forms of music.

Lately, ive discovered a digital station,, which has a bunch of brilliant shows that are possibly the most diverse, heartfelt and brilliant ive ever found. One of the gems there is "Sonarchy Radio", one hour of live performances from artists that have the common trait of being, somehow, "outside of the box". At first it sounds like one of those writer manifactured sentences that really dont mean anything, but once you hear those bands, it fits: its musicans that can hardly be pinned into a genre, that love to play with it, mix its ingredients, defeat the preconceptions. Actual real artists.

Recetly, on this great show, i discovered the hypnotic beauty that is the duo named "Oosik". Their is a musical experience that is easier to hear and try than to explain. But for clarification: they're two guys, both handling percussions, synth and electronics. Their sound is a big flow of rhythm and trippy melody, that wraps around your ears taking you by the end to one of those alien places where only music can take you.

Their debut album "Molecules" gives you a feel of there chilly magnetism and melts your synapses well, but where they really shine is live (as all great musicians do).

So, give them a listen, see them if they're close to you and GET THEIR TSUFF. Dont make me punch you.

mercoledì 2 novembre 2011

Moments That Crush Your Spirit (But Make You Stronger)

One rule, in my existence: do not give up until youre completely done. And when you're done, relax and say "fuck it". I am not writing that as a judgemental preachy thing. I literally have no rules in my existence. I have moral standards and i am passionate, that is true. But i also thing that anyone's choice is their own. I have the right to criticize them, thats part of the deal: freedom of choice and speech but also freedom of reaction and retaliation. But no rules. I take everything sexually, existentially and life wise. All i keep telling myself is to be resilient, like a cockroach with a big dick.

Still, there are moments that make even the strongest people want to give up. It isnt big tragedies usually. Those, make most stronger. Its quiet moment of utter slimy mediocrity that often repeat themselves over and over and over, corroding the ill to fight and positivity of a person until they become whats worst in this world: bitter.

They can all be recovered but they are unsettling:

- Morons Win
You can be a brilliant artist that created small jewels of heartbreaking beauty. You can be a tough spirited, unstoppable worker that has been devoted to what they do for years, accepting failure and learning from it, fighting relentlessly to have your place. You might be just a nice person that hjas a good heart and bears the innate cruelty of humans daily and stillò is able to love and give. But then you see a barely literate, racist, ignorant, lazy, incompetent slob named Biff, who loves to tell nigger jokes, has 5 kids but doesnt provide cause he likes to be on welfare, is a whiny hypocondriac that abuses medicines cause he knows the doctor, and seems to not do shit at work but yet gets promoted more than you and makes fun of your stress constantly. He wins, cause morons and asshole seem to always triumph. Not cause the system is corrupt but just because they dont really care about anything or anyone and that seems to be the highest power in this universe.

- Technology Kills
You can be the greatest genius on earth or the most organized person, but machines are mercurial pices of unpredictable catastrophe that will fuck your life up for good, anytime, no matter what. True, the tech experts love to say that their machine doesnt do that or that they can avoid it cause they're copol. Yeah they'll tell you "Duh" but at some point, it woill happen to them too, and they will tear up like abused toddlers in a corner of their room, while their perfect toy destroys all their work. It does not matter how machine like people trryu to be, the computers, cars and phones of this world will destroy them. Cause thats what they are really there for.

- "Money, Get Away..."
Of course, love is a many splendoured thing, and sex is number one but the root of everything is money. To ensure the survival of all things good, you need money. Lots of it, constantly. Increasingly. Whether its to pay for your own survival, to face accidents, to do simple thigns that costs more and more, to do ANYTHING, you need money. And, as most things that are needed and vital, money is scarce and disappears quickly. You keep loosing it, for things that have almost no logic or result.

- The Machine Eats The Good Ones
Almost as an opposite to my first point, it seems that good people cant catch a break. You probably have one of those instances somewhere. A person that, for once, really deserves happiness and gets mostly tons of shit delivered with a bow. Not only by luck but also by people. Cause it seems that the majority of people love to prey on the good ones and the weak. And do it with a smile. Its the polite ones you gotta watch.

All of those things, though arent a reason of defeat. they feel like it, but no matter what, someone out there loves you and cares for you. If not for yourself, which i still the thing you shall prize the most because you are the best thing you will ever meet, do it for them. No matter how low you feel, those things dont devalue anything. You just get back stronger and angrier. You win.