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Let’s say it, I’ve written a lot of bullshit.
Articulated theories on the last editorial for max:
Here, my friends, I can tell you the truth: I am absolutely lazy and indolent, I don’t feel like doing anything else but think what to wear. So what is better than letting the model take the pictures?
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Last night Vinicio Capossela played in Bergamo
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It is absolutely necessary
To know everything
That nothing is necessary
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flight rio-paris, with air france, peaceful and blissful. i arrive in paris and look immediately for my alitalia flight that turns out to be “cancelled” on the screen. cancelled. suppressed. eliminated. i go to the in-transit desk to get information. in fact they tell me that because of the various mess in italy, the flight has been cancelled. there is another one, from alitalia, leaving more or less at the same time. it doesn’t go to linate but to malpensa airport, but obviously i say : “well/thanks/i’ll catch it”. the kind lady phones alitalia to book me on that flight. calls. and recalls. she apologizes saying nobody answers. nobody. she then tries another way, i think through air france booking system, and she slots me in. i rush to the check-in, i take the boarding card and go towards the gate. the flight should have left at 1.30pm. at 2.30 nothing moves yes. minutes after the sign appears on the screen and we start boarding. they don’t’ have tea and coke on board, but is fine. i arrive at malpensa and i stand at the conveyor belt waiting for my luggage. i wait. and wait. all the luggage arrives except mine. i go to the lost and found and i fill the form. they tell, looking at the barcode, that my luggage has been lift in paris. alone with my little backpack i go outside to the station to catch the train malpensa-cadorna. at the entrance of the station there are automatic machines and i buy a ticket. using coins because they don’t’ accept credit cards. i go to the platform and only then i read that because of a strike, the service is suspended. the service is guaranteed within a “protected” time slot, at the end of the afternoon. i still had to wait twenty more minutes so i decided to wait, to catch the first train leaving, and in fact was on screen as scheduled. i wait and i wait. at the time of departure nothing happens. no train, no announcement. all desert. in the dumps i walk towards the taxi rank. i arrive at the top of the cars waiting in line and i get on the one in front. we leave and after a while the taxi driver receives a phone call from his columbian, equadorean, argentinian lover … i don’t’ know … but spanish speaking. the guy starts to talk a fake sicilian/spanish. “meo amor” “te chiero” “come stas” …. driving faster and faster and sweet talking more and more to the girl. and talks. and talks. finally he ends the conversation, but starts to drive like a lunatic, probably because he has to go quickly to his beauty. he takes over from the right. hoots. swears. th’fucker. when we left the taxi driver switched on the meter, maybe because he is used to, and it counted 125 euro. i tell him it seems to me there is an agreement and the amount from malpensa to milan is fixed, 80 euros. “right!” he says “ give me 80 euros”. i give him 80 euros, and while making the tyres squealing he rushes to his colombian. no comments. welcome back to italy.
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…and last this is the very fancy logo printed on the neat pillows!
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this is a room ready and “clean” to host clients…
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probably someone must have noticed my passion for squalid places, i’ve written about and photographed many: i find they have “sincerity” and poetry that refined places rarely have. the squalid place is like that because it is like that, it doesn’t have the pretence to be something different from what wants to show to be. again i confirm, it is genuine. when someone revamps places normally considered squalid, they transform them inevitable in horrendous places: they install aluminium window frames, mouse grey tiles, the sanitary all the same with same fittings … all the shit that some ignorant architect/draftsman consider to be modern. i vindicate the superiority of the blissful simplicity compared to unaware meanness of ignorance. i have then found here too in rio a beautiful example of beautiful squalor: the hotel “love’s house”. the house of love. it is not in “via del campo”, but in the lapa district, the oldest one. it costs here 10 euro per night. here above the view from outside.
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here i am, in brazil. i flew next to valentino. yes, him, valentino garavani. wow! i’ve now understood who’s to blame for the hole in the ozone layer and the melting of the perennial glaciers: the hair of the famous fashion designer. he shoots tons and tons of hairspray to keep those four hair all nicely firm and compact. (mr. valentino! if ever you or someone from your staff will read these lines please don’t get cross! i already have enough enemies in the rutilant fashion world! you, such a clever fellow, you know very well the quickest way to feel important is to criticize someone more important than us. so forgive me, by judging natural and human
this very light fucking around your hair, in fact you always came across as a nice person to me, and even yesterday you were nice and kind with everybody. i would go out of my way and say that your red is the best colour of the world! viva valentino! go valentino! – fuck i only brought one book, and i almost finished it already. it may seem foregone and banal and very mainstream but i have to admit i really enjoyed “ la siolitudine dei numeri primi” by giordano. really beautiful: well done paolo! i’m sipping the last pages, because i want to enjoy it, but also because i will not know what to read. what can i do? does someone know a bookshop with italian books in rio de janeiro? – it’s hot, but there are thunderstorms, specially mornings and evenings. humidity is 120% – obama :)))