Paolo Ippoliti
impossible mornings
i had never quite grasped the techniques behind animal entrails divination: i always thought it was the simplest shortcut for the shaman to get free meat and keep cheating villagers; in rorschach living, after all, if you look hard enough you can hallucinate everything in everything else and there's no way to boot you out of the trap, especially if you insist in believing it;
days are curious, though, light shedding on corners that you plain forgot they existed if you ever knew it to begin with: and two days ago i saw a vid where some guys slained a goat and presented its entrails to some other old guy who stared at them long enough to pretend they were a 3d cast of the surrounding territory, pointing at the duodenopyloric constriction and calling it enemy territory, aiming at the incisura cardiaca and saying we are here in the camera with a faint smile.
the above picture has obviously no relation to all of this, old and off topic and silly wanky sp's as it is. while most of my time gets spent in a horrible pink noise hushed perceptive hiss, the poor cultural apparatus backing me up tends to illuminate the rarest, occasional handful of moments in a clearer, distinct greek tragedy light: and while mostly i witness ol' robot me smiling or staying silent or plain service-messaging fellow humans, i sometimes find myself delighted in savouring its impromptu vigorous wake into a world of unmistaken singing lines, knives stabbing chests in rapture at exactly the right time, torn eyes in order to see no more and a multitude of choir cries feedbacking their way to the huge silence of a sky empty for million of miles on end.
and yet i had no need to seppuku myself, to let the swim of the katana lead my own entrails over the ground to guess that, briefly put, everywhere is now a danger zone, that nowhere is a safe harbour and that in the middle of this trite, lapalissian acknowledgement life keeps going on in the exact same way as always.
i hold firmly onto the joy of believing in nothing.
i know little and i'm sharing only its shadow.
inhabitants of the enemy territory have been warned.
something will happen, soon.
it always does.
impossible mornings
i had never quite grasped the techniques behind animal entrails divination: i always thought it was the simplest shortcut for the shaman to get free meat and keep cheating villagers; in rorschach living, after all, if you look hard enough you can hallucinate everything in everything else and there's no way to boot you out of the trap, especially if you insist in believing it;
days are curious, though, light shedding on corners that you plain forgot they existed if you ever knew it to begin with: and two days ago i saw a vid where some guys slained a goat and presented its entrails to some other old guy who stared at them long enough to pretend they were a 3d cast of the surrounding territory, pointing at the duodenopyloric constriction and calling it enemy territory, aiming at the incisura cardiaca and saying we are here in the camera with a faint smile.
the above picture has obviously no relation to all of this, old and off topic and silly wanky sp's as it is. while most of my time gets spent in a horrible pink noise hushed perceptive hiss, the poor cultural apparatus backing me up tends to illuminate the rarest, occasional handful of moments in a clearer, distinct greek tragedy light: and while mostly i witness ol' robot me smiling or staying silent or plain service-messaging fellow humans, i sometimes find myself delighted in savouring its impromptu vigorous wake into a world of unmistaken singing lines, knives stabbing chests in rapture at exactly the right time, torn eyes in order to see no more and a multitude of choir cries feedbacking their way to the huge silence of a sky empty for million of miles on end.
and yet i had no need to seppuku myself, to let the swim of the katana lead my own entrails over the ground to guess that, briefly put, everywhere is now a danger zone, that nowhere is a safe harbour and that in the middle of this trite, lapalissian acknowledgement life keeps going on in the exact same way as always.
i hold firmly onto the joy of believing in nothing.
i know little and i'm sharing only its shadow.
inhabitants of the enemy territory have been warned.
something will happen, soon.
it always does.