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I have framed my first SIAE check... 113 euros.
Well, even Rome required centuries to be made. Obviously I have no centuries in front of me.
Neither I have days, at least for the songs I still need to write for Martiria. Deadline expired long ago and I am still in the middle of it.
Too puzzled by the meaning of life to concentrate my mind on these songs.
Too sad, indeed, to write.
A bad day is not enough, indeed.
A dear friend has just gotten a very bad news.
It makes me think. A lot.
What is the sense of all this running, trying, doing, undoing?
Death is just beyond the corner. Waiting you are happy to come out.
I need to get the sense of all this. I really do.
I know that better people than me tried and failed. Still I have to do it.
At the end there is just ONE question worth of his name: what's after?
A prize for the first one that will give me an answer. In the meanwhile, I will keep searching.
Even if it is dangerous. Not because of what you could find... but because of what you could NOT find.
Many years ago I read a book i thought it could illuminate my life. It was Life after life of Raymond A.Moody. At the time I needed to give a bit of rest to my mind tormented by a heavy loss (could anyone tell me if there is a loss that isn't heavy? ... (more)
The news is one of those simpy hard to believe.
I mean, it's almost logic. He dared too much. One time or another, it had to happen.
Still... it was easy to think he had some kinda of immunity.
That it couldn't happen to him what happens to anyone of us.
Obviously, it wasn't so.
And it's almost cruel (someway ironic) that the cause of his death was one of those animals he loved so much.
Anyway The rest is silence as Hamlet says.
Farewell, Steve Irving, without you the world will be a good bit more boring.
A few nights ago I was in a bad mood, I couldn't sleep.
Not really a news.
Anyway, I took out from a box my pencils, and a rubber, and a piece of paper.
And an old photo of papa Hemingway.
A good old photo.
And I made a sketch of it.
Didn't come out too bad, just a little bit twisted.
I think I will use it for the essay about Hem that I am writing for Progetto Babele.
If I will ever manage to finish it.
Let's make an example, this morning I woke up at 8, began to work at 8.30.
As usual, I had no lunch break and I arrived at home at 7.00 PM, still with a little bit of energy, enough, at least, to switch off the PC and check the list of things to do.
I see a couple of things really urgent in the list.
I have to read and valuate three short stories and three poems for a prize where I am part of the jury. It had to be done before ... last week.
Then I have to write ten new songs for the third Martiria album that should come out in Autumn.
Three are done, one is almost there and the other six... I do not even know what to write about.
Well, so, maybe I should begin to work on it, no?
No.
No, because I have to go back to fix computers, since I am "on call".
Being "on call" means that I cannot go too far from home, no more than one hour driving or so, because multinationals ... (more)
Today I've got by mail a check from SIAE (that's the Italian author's association).
They were paying me the rights due for the last lyrics I wrote, the rights were related to the second half of year 2005.
It was the incredible sum of euros 111. Something like 130$, I guess.
Not that I complain.
I've heard that some of our songs have been played by a little independent radio transmitting in Chile, from the Ands.
Surely someting like that never happened, for example, to Britney Spears.
Still... definetely these money won't allow me to stop fixing computers (that's what I do to eat and pay the rent).
And, unfortunately, when I spend the day travelling on my van to fix computers I go back home too tired to write, but if I don't write I cannot publish, if I don't publish I can't make money, if I have no money, I have to go back on the road fixing computers. ... (more)
