faccio cose, vedo gente

In a recent press article (en, it) you can read about the features of the HP Photosmart R727 camera, the most interesting being to shrink up all your fat and still give to the subject a natural shape.

“It works better than a four weeks diet!”, declared proudly Sally Cranham, a mysterious singer who decided to raise her fame by posing for this magical device.
I’m sure her fans won’t be disappointed going to her concert and discovering that a whale is singing, instead of a mermaid.

To be more serious, I’m looking forward to a nano-device that we can apply directly on the eye, which can show me everybody and everything as I’d like to see it. No more Sally poses. No more hassle at the gym. No more anxiety on the scale, because I’d see the weight I wanna weight on my imaginary scale and a perfect body in the imaginary mirror. And because I’ll be lazy, I’ll imagine the mirror right in front of the scale, so I don’t have to move any further.

More, more, more! For the same reason I can imagine the love of my life, the house of my dreams, the richest bank account and so on without even snapping my fingers, because I can simply imagine to snap them. Voilà! And oh yeah, I can be Sally Cranham if I ever need to feel overweight.

Technorati Tags: Facts, Humor, lang:en, Technology

coming soon…Il Dizionario del Trash cerca collaboratori… avete una canzone così brutta che proprio non vi entra in testa? Avete in casa un disco orrendo e vi chiedere come qualcuno abbia potuto produrlo? Siete nostalgici degli anni ‘80, dove tutto era permesso? Avete pronto un bel commento acido sul vostro peggior acquisto discografico?Benvenuti dove tutto fa brodo! Mandate i vostri commenti, le vostre idee, quel che vi pare a tukaaa+trash@gmail.com e preparatevi a rileggerlo su queste pagine: con tanto di riferimento all’autore! Entriamo in contatto!

Because of this!

(A typical example of italian creativity)

Al cabo delos años del destierro

volví a la casa de mi infancia

y todavía me es ajeno su ámbito.

[…] cuánta quebradiza luna nueva

infundirá al jardín su ternura,

antes que vuelva a reconecerme la casa

y de nuevo sea un hábito!

---

Alla fine degli anni dell’esilio

tornai alla casa della mia infanzia

ed ancora mi è estraneo il suo spazio

[…] quanta friabile luna nuova

infonderà al giardino la sua tenerezza,

prima che torni a riconoscermi la casa

e di nuovo sia un’abitudine!

---

At the end of my exile years

I went back to the house of my childhood

and still its space is foreign to me

[…] how much of that crumbly moon

will soften the garden

before I can recall the house

make it an habit, again!

---

Borges, Jorge Louis; La Vuelta

Back in base, country of the solid tuna, juicy mozzarella, and bad looking tomatoes, but “tanto tanto buoni eh!”. Directly from my uncle’s garden!

Far from the city, surrounded by land, close to the sea, I fall again in those feelings of anxiety, suspended between making things versus letting things to make me. Here I feel completely between me and the universe-but-me.

America wasn’t home: I passed through bad and good times. I had some troubles with my feet - like old ladies in their seventies - and sometimes I felt alone, or slow. I had good friends but I didn’t enjoy the compulsive sexuality of the average american. I felt like it wasn’t for me. I felt it was time to come back.

Here I don’t eat chips, cups are half of the size (so you have to fill them twice as often) and in my little village I spend my days working on my thesis, isolated from the rest of the world, looking all day outside my window, like a bird in a cage. There was a field, when I was a little boy. Now they’re building houses.

I had a few chances to go to Bologna, and meet with my friends. It was good, but I couldn’t avoid feeling some depression, some faithless sensations: life goes on, as a weak interconnection of casual friendships.

Is it time for another change? Another country? More energy? I can’t wait to finish up my thesis and get my degree, in October. Something new has to start from there. And yeah: London, you’re my next hope.

For some people, popularity is a long, planned project that starts at the age of two or three. For some others, it’s an accident that happens (because it’s an accident) accidentally (same thing).

Four weeks at SIGM are over and I’m in my room in Italy again, unpacking stuff and wrapping up the experience on my blog. I met a lot of great people and enjoyed a bath in the river of social networking, a tremendously hard discipline where many can always do better and others just does. But I’m not in the second pool.

My favorite crowd, including John, Matt, Tyler the Banana Man, Nitin, and obviously JoAnn, plus Michelle, Maya - and many many others I can’t mention here - has been able to appreciate my clumsiness, my sarcasm and my surreal humor (oh modesty!): I really had good times with them.

I never specifically applied for popularity. It just fell on me. For unknown reason everybody was remembering my name and - clumsy as usual - I punctually forgot the other’s one. Being FloMo’s dorms full of grand pianos helped a lot: many people stopped while I was playing, asking for some piece of music, or just listening to me. Playing grand pianos is enchanting: everything seems so easy!

But the best arrived with Mrs. Draganska, the professor of Marketing Research. After a long introduction on the subject, including how pointless MR seems to everybody but just because they don’t know how to deal with it, she started talking about some products, including the bengay company, apparently well known for some healing cream.

I didn’t know abut this company, and when she asked me something about it I candidly admitted my ignorance. To which she started to explain everything I was supposed to know, in such a way that seemed to give me all the infos for a future answer, but when the explanation is over she turns suddenly: “well you don’t know the company, so there’s no point in asking you”.

Pardon? First she tries to pull me in and then she pushes me out? My answer is spontaneous and immediate: “whatever”! She opens her eyes wide to express stupor and some sense of guilt; one millisecond later everybody is laughing its ass off. I didn’t mean to be rude: in fact I wasn’t rude at all, but that’s what gave me the fame. Since that day everybody who said hi to me also included a whatever.

And that proves the point. It’s not fair. It’s not a science. Popularity happens by accident and it happened to me for a single, innocent word more than a million, fascinating notes. Blah!

Technorati Tags: Facts, Humor, Personal, Usa