Newsgroup: it.cultura.linguistica.inglese
Titolo: Comprende e.

Riccardomustodario
Comprende
translation by
Charles Bellanova
                                 Comprende
The hot and dusty mushroom made us fear it would melt the television
set and its liquid crystals, while its shadow left the scene to a fan
of boughs attached to their trunk in the open air onto the screen
against the stars. – Rain was falling. - Furious gusts of water bathed
the lens - a breath of hope blown from forgotten distances diffused
throughout the mind. - After the anguish of the atomic bomb, the image
of the Isotta Fraschini leaned across the panorama was hope of a
slightly cooler future.
 Grace: Would you like a coffee?
Joe: With a glass of water, preferably lukewarm, until the roar
"Grrr".
Grace: Why do you always watch programs of a tumultuous substance? -
And with that audio system, capable of intimidating the walls, every
time you plug the jack in, it gives the feeling of ripping the space
apart.
Joe:  Exciting! The sidereal period of the Moon is twenty seven days
and I don’t remember how many hours, minutes and seconds; more or less
coinciding with the menstrual cycle of women. - Oh! - My Grace - the
hour X is approaching and the explosion pushes us beyond the border!
Grace: You talk like the spiritual extra-earthling in the fun-fair at
the stall that sells bloody sanitary towels. - What explosion? - I
have the period, there’s no need to fear the condom doesn’t hold. -
You hope to be catapulted beyond the barrier in search of celestial
cosy shores among the stars and there escape the sultriness, but then
you remain nailed to the cross of torture, contemplating your bitten
nails in the cold bluish light of your inertia?
Joe: The borders of the World narrowly tightened in the solar system.
– We, dazzling with light, belong, in space, to our luminous star and
we don’t realize we are in such a bad state, being so slow in
comparison with the Constellations, which have vectors by far more
advanced then ours, because of their greater mass. - For the exposed
reason, we must look again at all the intergalactic speeds calculated
to this day and align to the new measure of light, the illuminating
properties of the different realities of the celestial bodies that
influence us, because the previous cosmic measures have all turned out
to be wrong, although we remain shining nonetheless.
Grace: Then I’m dazzling with light in telling you of the doctor who
said to the patient: you’ve got Lupus and you can’t be in the sunlight
again, otherwise your skin is going to overcook and wrinkle with age.
 Joe: ... And he runs away on the Constellation. - Irony of  fate,
before mixing with us he was healthy, upright and self-confident, then
passing by Earth caught a cold, becoming aware that the solar beams
were surpassed for longevity; for renewing he needs something very
different: a luminous integrator from another dimension, capable of
drying the inner rheum.
Grace: What are you talking about Joe? - You reason like a newsgroup
pseudo-scientific freak; the coffee is cooling, enjoy it or you won’t
recover the time forgotten on the tip of your nose, in search of a
direction for your chatter, unique manufacturer of intellectual cold.
Joe: Follacchio worried about the cooling of the Central Nucleus, with
consequent exhaustion of our system, and behold, from many places,
recently, thrills that freeze the bowels of our planet are diffused in
the scientific community, shifting our attention from a pole to the
other of the truth.
 Grace: I have heard too that the Earth is not warm in the inside, but
I have taken it as a joke of Anglo-Saxon taste – a cold pun!
Joe: What for? - Useful perhaps to guarantee a hibernated longevity,
once we are buried?
Grace: Not all ends up burnt.
Joe: In the centre it is possible to manage cold and fire and if it
doesn’t burn it lacks the propulsion and the body of the deserving
ones, how could it get to Heaven in a flash?
Grace: Thanks to exhaust gases, apart from the fanfares, the spirit
sets free, gets rid of the body and levitate like gas. You have
studied but don’t remember well… engaged as you are with the future
trip that lacks noise of bands or loud announcements of overtures for
the new entry on the dance floor to the sound of angels’ trumpets, at
the doors of Paradise. But do you truly deceive yourself about joining
in the Kingdom of Heaven, or perhaps the sins are for you optional of
Good? - On "The Reason of Repentance" we read that the Earth turns,
thanks to a complex system of three spheres, which set in motion a
fourth central circumference, our planet, celestial body that will
never get exhausted, in virtue of the perpetual motion generated by
the equilibrium of forces that are light, sound and speed.
Joe: Are you sure it is speed and not temperature rising in the space
of time? – Moreover it seems you have given too much of an
alphabetical order to your forces.
Grace: I have put speed to give movement! - Before concluding, and
with that I hope I’m not going to confuse you, I would wait before
placing the forces in a more rigid order.
Joe: Be...fore, ahead and as long as the hair are split, never I stay
waiting for baldness, in simple words: I stay hard and cool, for the
House of Our Lord there will be long time to wait and not because I
will be in Purgatory.
Grace: Considering how the balls of the spheres spin, in the
lubricated pride of nonsense, we guarantee, asserting it be enough, to
administer perpetual motion. - At the service of the production of
energy, often silliness reveals itself to be the non plus ultra. It is
also important to assert that there will be no more exhaustion, once
set in action these circular entities, because it’s the physical
principle that imposes itself. Sphere that I had in my lost time,
would cite Nosferatu going about with his coffin.
Joe: Comprende! - Perpetual Motion is not a joke: the Universe is
infinitely expanding, and I’m wasting time in an unbecoming posture,
abandoned with the remote control on a sofa, making the accounts of
giving and receiving, trying to square the figures. – There you are! -
You need the frenzies of movement and speech of Perpetua, Don
Abbondio’s Housekeeper that perhaps was so called, like a feminine
precision balance, because she was a windscreen for the sedentary life
of her curate? - A bit like when you meet someone and he intuitively
reveals himself pedant at the very shaking of hands, stumbling in the
“Pleasure” and more the time passes so more he remains. - "Stumbled"
sometimes words come out and rereading them in a far away after, a
question comes unfailingly: where did it come from? Without a bidet I
cannot write it, otherwise they would exclaim in a rush "Here he comes
to the English fact, completely relaxed: the bath!”- But... what a
likeable person Perpetua - without her I never would have read The
Betrothed! - The above-mentioned character enters very well the scene;
after some pages she begins to enter in garments of a lesser tone,
fatally diminishing importance, giving space to others, mainly her
Curate.
Why do you try to come up constantly, when the game tightens, as the
motion centre of all the attentions? Not only mine, but also yours in
the pleasure of telling things to yourself?
Grace: Oh Jesus!  Pathetica! - In rhyme of aesthetic pleasure of
listening! - "Comprende" that’s what I say in the circumstance of
total worry for my beloved Earth rung around by three spheres, and
tears spill out of my eyes if I think about the foolish answer that
this man eviscerate - but rinse your brain!
Joe: Stop weeping in perpetual motion – I am tough, nothing humid,
like on that shore of the Lake of Como, your central cold, optimal for
a wedding that must not happen.
Grace: Timelessly, you can’t obtain dimensions like light, sound or
living force, manifest kinetic energy in the movement of the body.
Joe: Timelessly, there’s no speed?
Grace: Can you perhaps obtain sound without a metronome?
 Joe: But are you still locked in an exhaust pipe? We are talking
about spheres, not about traditional vector forces along their
diagonal; leave the abscissas and relative coordinates in the convent!
Grace: Convent? Are you insinuating perhaps that the wind hides too,
like an ace in your shirt’s sleeve, in the gambling of forces?
Joe: I can’t stand it any longer! One day I will give myself to a
monastic order, to establish if the cone of air moved by a helicopter
can generate a tornado.
Grace: ...What has got to do with it the diagonal? The sphere turns on
its own axis, to the most you obtain a diameter.
Joe: The diameter of the cap where the sphere is lodged? Go through
your geometry again, please! Or perhaps you ignore that you can trace
triangles at will in a sphere…
Grace: Ooohhh we should have dedicated today to love, to sex, rather
than listening to the bullshit that you are able to pour out that
mouth. However this fact appeals to me: in diagonal does it raise
faster?
Joe: Do not even mention it, at least until next week. I have a cold!
No triangle and metronome or do you perhaps prefer the Metrocop?
Grace: Let’s get out; let’s go to have a nice ice cream. On the
gentleman’s cone I will tell the waiter, I would appreciate three
flavours in balls. - Oh, pardon! - We are mischievous: in colourful
spheres!
Joe: Always hunting titbits! - We can’t go out, where could I
introduce myself with the continuum sneeze I have? in these conditions
the domestic warm is the cure-all!
Grace: We can always use a magnetron, avoiding the transmission of
viruses.
Joe: That strangest luminous tube that de-freezes or cooks in
microwave ovens? What a strange way to phagocyte sex, in the sense of
truly annex, acquire, gild, satiate the sexual appetites.
Grace: You said it! - In hospital we have a patient who’s scared by
the withdrawal of blood, transmitting the pains of his anxiety as soon
as he seats in the chair, because, having the veins embedded, it is
difficult to find them and when they are localized, often it is not
precisely. I let you imagine when one day he came into the analysis
laboratory and asserted: "We must ionize the air materializing it!
Joe: Boom!
Grace: And it happened, I guarantee, and all went smooth, while he
declared that thanks to this aimed system, a nozzle of a wished size
can be obtained in order to select the cells, because the cancerous
ones are different, probably larger.
Joe: Holy Mary! - Miss, what have you been saying? - Health has a
strange effect on me, I am libido starving: I want the magnetron! The
bigger magnetron eats the smaller magnetron, as "Phagocyte" that is
the greater party absorbs the one with fewer votes?
Grace: Blimey! - Like stimuli? – Do not interrupt! - This argument is
difficult!
Joe: Don’t tell me: it belongs to those situations that you quickly
lose?
Grace: In a closed system – do not open the window you have a cold -
the forces tend to the equilibrium between the parts.
Joe: I’ll switch on the heating; I’ll put the coat on and take off the
breeches, holding the nose away from the external atmosphere.
Grace: Stop talking nonsense! - In a closed system it’s possible to
intervene in the inside, thanks to the atomic laser that passes
through matter, therefore also through the cell.
Joe: Disintegrating it and for at least twenty years we pay the
consequences on the territory, in the closed of our planet, in this
case, the human body.
Grace: Not all is atomic bomb and then it depends on its capacity!
Joe: However the atomic pollution must be feared; especially if in
contact with the human body the worries increase, and a lot. Punctual
we are at the crackdown on lupus, that is not little fable like the
vixen and the grape, but cause of deficiency of the immune system,
easy controllable with the lions, according to the gang of the
drunkards. The lupus illness is able to penetrate the cell modifying
it and more ahead still, it doesn’t even have to resort to such
artifice, because, according to a fashionable scientist, it is enough
a simple vitamin in order to modify a cell, that doesn’t mean that we
go at the common denominator in competition to who says it better and
that’s all, apart the financial acts of the dissent that speculate on
the issue.
Grace: Absorbed even your customary critical analysis of the
superficiality that encircles you, we assert that every indication of
your genetic map will be read in the liquid humours properly re-
established, and thanks to the manipulation of the DNA, you and we all
will be happy and content in the image and likeness of our desires.
Joe: It sounds like a fable! - Beautiful! - But with the magnetron and
the negative energies that become standardized, how shall we put it,
all the passives will be active?
Grace: The magnetron, as you well know, takes advantage of the rubbing
of two forces together, producing heat by friction. From the inside
towards the external walls, the cathode cooks, and all this tingling
and moving negative electrostatic charges present in organic matter.
The chap who had an unknown nuclear factor in the body, instead of
worrying, when he had it communicated, absorbed the news normally,
because thanks to atomics, as we have already seen, his accounts
squared; he was the one to give birth to this beautiful intuition that
now has become reality.
Joe: Which one?
Grace: The nuclear factor that takes care of us from the inside of our
body. Don’t get distracted!
Joe: Comprende. - Permanently employed?
Grace: No! - Modified! - But, when the need arises, certainly they
show themselves, the political representatives, to introduce
themselves on the sly in order to favour the appropriations from the
government budget and to ask for research. In simple words, such news,
communicated by the doctor during the analyses of the after-polypus,
turned out in his view to be an evolution of political precision and
absorbed it very well!
Joe: The trouble is truly in the hospital, where doctors of opposite
factions, thinking that such news had been given by the doctor, begin
to see in that political plots, opening escalation of illations out of
place. I don’t know if in this occasion the polypus is more pungent,
cooked in a frying pan or not. Undoubtedly is sea food, erotic food!
Grace: We are still in an experimental and theoretical regimen – slow
down the enthusiastic proclaims – besides, we are very distant from
the optimal planning of the political-religious lines.
Joe: Before this interval for a snack, I felt a bit fetish for the
weekend: with greasy hair, but dishevelled and with the blood in
ferment for change, I saw around beautiful sinuous lines of secular
longevity, wonderfully masked. Or maybe I’ve got it wrong and I notice
that, joking and laughing, we die in the illusion of having exceeded
the barrier of time, very modest, to live the existence that has been
given to us, like the actual average span of life, even if we survive
for one hundred years?
Grace: Well! The body, passing the centuries, wears out...
Joe: ...The consumption is negative, and in lack of an alternative
energetic resource, arrive the forces of the “Comprende” and as now
you are going to reveal, the magnetron will enter the field,
especially for those that are total frigid. I bet it’s like that!
Grace: From one to ten - how much do you think you are male?
Joe: In what sense?  If you refer to the cravings for sex when I have
a cold, I do not go further than three, or perhaps four.
Grace: Here’s the point! The adequacy, for being promoted, is six!
When you are in shape, at the most you get to five.
Joe: Gosh... to five? Also the dumb gets the point with a five, that’s
a fact of the scientific card playing. Do you remember that evening
when we made it more than once? The day after I couldn’t open the eyes
– had I mistaken the card to throw?
Grace: You downloaded so much of those liquid humours that the eyelids
glued together. Incredible!
Joe: But come on: the magnetron! Perhaps I am getting flabby, perhaps
you are right in cutting up the speech in chunks, otherwise you would
risk to need to resort to the attic, more and more up, getting out
means to grow, in the mid of the walk of our life... – Mid or mud?
Grace: The upper part of the colon can be ionized and isolated, and
this is a scientific data, like a game of cards. In the inside of it
the magnetron was set in action and all the negative presences on the
walls were swept away and the colon returned... colonized, beautiful
and healthy as before.
Joe: Better to avoid such speeches - the high ranking official under
the tent you already know...
Grace: Colonel Missileg: tell me!
Joe: What? - Easy to say: do you know in the game of cards, when they
are given with the big deck, that is dividing and piling up the good
ones from the bad ones, the former to you, the bad ones to the other
players, getting ready for Victory. - Nonsense! - Ability of slickers!
- Cards or no cards, the colon after a cleaning up with toilet paper,
returned to the level of youth, thanks to the magnetron, which had
cornered points for a good game.
Grace: Ignoring your profuse fantasy in colouring the story, I confirm
that you have nearly centred the argument; for my part, when I told as
an analyst the colleagues what had happened, all went smooth and
logical and more than this I do not know and it lacks the ancient
trick.
Joe: For the torment of not centring the hole... into the veins?
Grace: It mustn’t have been a joke - consider the worry of not knowing
what was happening, even if He was trained to the tingling on the
skin, because of the unappreciated beams.
Joe: You talk like he were one of your acquaintances.
Grace: The little bully, at all costs He wants to sell its document
painted on canvass on the healthy atomic laser, for fear of
disappearing, and we want to demonstrate to Him that He is wasting
time: by now He is surpassed! – He’s a kind of promoter of the
usefulness of the atomic bomb as an instrument of peace!
Joe: But do you truly believe what you have just told me?
Grace: Of course! –It’s a personal experience I’ve lived.
Joe: He doesn’t declare anything?
Grace: Nobody believes Him!
Joe: Why is it that my cold never heals?
Grace: The experiment on Him, on the resistance to this new virus that
brings cold, is still in the phase of overhauling. Eat more lemons,
everybody is cured in this way!
Joe: Huh! - And what do you make of the atomic bomb? - Clearly, if
they find out that you are making experiments on Him, instead than on
mice, you are dead before you can take another breath. At the very
least they will think that you are a crook or a coffin, since you are
a woman!
Grace: Ready for you! Nosferatu, to me!
The carrot jumped, moved by the spiralled spring on which it had been
drawn; it seemed animated. The marsupium with the hands in the pockets
did not librate in the air, remaining berthed on the goal line. The
referee annotating, whistled for ball to middle field - the goal had
been validated. Under the pressure of the crossbar, the athlete was
prevented or didn’t receive the coordinating push in order to catch up
the ball, which mocked him and swelled the net, and the player hadn’t
even tried to lengthen his arm. Like "Television Phenomena Karotao
Meraviliao Football".
Grace: Was it th...ird television foot in ball ready-sex? - Panta Miss
beautiful legs Belsaize! Some time passed and without the parachute I
wouldn’t have ever come down from the roof-terrace of your extending
dreams. - No experiment! – Are we really going to reach out?
Joe: Laddie, laddie, please, ‘ve ya seen a young lad wi’ two girls?
Grace: Laddie to me? – Are you mad? – Go and have a round in Piazzetta
Belle Donne in Chiaia and convert yourself, do penance, imploring
mercy, for a fruitful examination of conscience. You look like a
priest in the garment of a nun, or haven’t I been clear?
Joe: Do not interrupt! - I was attempting to follow the scene from the
window, between the greengrocer and a young lady passing by… - I did
not hear well what they said, nevertheless, thanks to their
gesticulation, I’ve seized everything, except the beginning of the
speech, when the girl just arrived had yelled in his face words that
he perhaps hadn’t even gotten, which escaped me also, although the
scene was recited nearly at the height of our window, but knowing the
issue, it was easy to pick up what was happening.
Grace: That man is the unexpressed thought of the hamper of onions
with its handle to the wind. I have always imagined that when he opens
the mouth, his backside winks. I pray you, go on!
Joe: To the insistence of the Miss, our friend has answered
negatively, not troubling himself minimally from the unusual position.
Grace: With that cart in the middle of the garden, he looks elsewhere.
What a cheek! As if the alley was his…
Joe: Merit of our Councillor who is moved by the past thought of the
seasoned wood. I wouldn’t wonder if we discovered that the greengrocer
makes culture, given his historical figure in antithesis to the
supermarket, where people do not participate to the smile of a last
plate that makes shelf, introduced by the commercial of canned food.
Grace: They are asserting that the elections are piloted in the cheat
of the signs; ballots technologically advanced, in the name of those
who hold power: you think you are ticking a box and instead ionizing
the air, they emphasize the chosen symbol visually, from the power
room of the piloted electorate, which donate the vote according to the
surveys of the Ministry of Public Opinion. There is who makes himself
a hard one and in order not to be mocked, votes two, three parties at
a time, nullifying the stratagem.
Joe: We were at a game of foot... oh, pardon – cards, scientific
version two, a tete a tete "Stall" to cards, when the Miss couldn’t
believe the disinterestedness in the young man and in order to
reprehend the bad education that he revealed she expressed herself
asserting interrogative: but why are you with the face against the
wall – in this way you address the customers? - But if this was a cart
you made yourself – it’s you perhaps the donkey that can well laugh at
the cash register? - Our greengrocer with just a small cart gives
himself more airs then the owner of the greengrocer market – I can’t
believe it!
Grace: The noun you used does not exist in English, but you will
affirm Joe has the horn, therefore better let it go.
Space artic white - do not fear advances - let’s save the bear and us.
Joe: At this point, the greengrocer, without turning, answered
reluctantly, gesturing - for a moment he seemed to want to show off to
the Miss., which, fretting, tried to meet his eyes expeditiously. –
Pointing out the private property, she consecrated the absence of the
man of the vegetables from reality, a disadvantage to commerce, and by
the way, without any trouble, could go off with the shopping basket
coloured like a lotus flower, the only thing, by the way, on display.
- The greengrocer, gesturing back visually with the hand, invited her
to move aside, adding with that voice of his, of a martyr of the Holy
Patience: if you remove yourself from the front of the cart - you will
understand! - The Miss recomposed herself in her good tone "boyo,
boyo, I see in front of this basket o’ persimmons there’s just ya - I
does not understand – are you taking the piss – ye an’ that veg? -
Incredible! –
Grace: On that small cart the strangest stories can be read! - He
collects them all - but where has done the military service? - Which
general has held his baptism?
Joe: He has not fulfilled his obligation. - His small cart is all a
cheat, with which he deceives himself believing to make the good ass
for the stable of the regulars of Martyrdom Place. - The passing Miss,
visibly shocked, summoned the pedlar a dry and precise “Boyo", I ask
it for the last time, then you won’t see me again "’Ave ye seen two
chicks with a lad? - One o’ the two girls wore a pink miniskirt on
stiletto heels and the other one a coral skirt with a chequered blouse
in tone. "-"... And he had immaculate white pants on blue T-shirt"
replied the greengrocer, who solemnly indicated a position in the air
which I didn’t distinguish, he added" If you move yourself from the
diagonal of the glasses you will notice that between these two
points... "- the astounded passing Miss shouted "Uh Jesus! - If I go
and tell it no one is going to believe me: you are watching the
football game reflected onto the glasses from window to window, from
half field to half field and when the action is carried out in the
circle of middle field putting ball on the point and go again - where
do you follow the action? -... And  do not tell me of being online
with the sport channel "El Pelotator de la Bala" because I do not have
time for listening to these foolishness and you will excuse me if I
repeat myself "’Ave ye see...". - The greengrocer raises and watching
her in the eyes, exclaims "Miss you bother me, Pelota... Tore "etc,
tells balls that don’t score, shooting which, if just they go well, at
the best produce a corner kick - in short, such sport review expresses
value zero and if you do not believe it come this evening, upon the
Sacchiuta, in the square by the sea and I will introduce you to many
of those rimmel boys, eyelash, thick and wild, which pose as they’ve
been out with the usual Tore, in order to pass for men - but how much
they score? - Tore, little shemale bully, the evening for the morning
and they are many and all my customers, modestly the "Cucumbers" I
sell are the best in the area and to this time everything has already
been sold out, but today there is the game, and some hamper, it is
late to express itself in currency cash, otherwise I would have
already cleared and given up waiting for you in front of me! - Now
please, disappear, no offence meant, see you again when I have the
hampers full of beautiful fresh merchandise, like every day, currently
all sold out, except the persimmons! - Uproarious roars of supporters
that follow the game behind every window, at times covering the words,
would be the comment to your unexpected visit. - Already you can’t
hear - the visibility is problematic and with you in the ears, little
I hope in a classy playing from ours, and I do not even pick up the
whistles of the public, moreover I open my heart to you: the faded
play of the unmanly recommended players of our national team disturb
me and if you come to visit me tomorrow, you’ll find some mountain
cherry tomatoes, extraordinary for Pizzaiuola, of a sport that no one
can stand anymore, but that must be followed in order to be informed,
for not being excluded from the mass culture, which, whatever is said,
is quarter, makes palace, in fact from a window half a screen is
looked at and on the bounce on another glass of the same floor, but on
another attached building, another half joins, while life goes, the
referee whistles and it is resumed to play, and that always and after,
everyone has occupied its position, as the game commands. - Or do you
think that a bundle of broccoli does not follow the price according to
the indications of the stock market? – Please, come again when you
please - but not now - I am studying! - (After having stood up for a
moment, when he named the stock market, as if he accompanied the
direction more than the recipient word, it adds a wink to the intimate
parts towards the low necked blouse and sits back, as always he had
been, during the contest – ill-mannered). - The Miss seems to grow -
she grounds her feet and she warns the unfortunate one: boyo – I, for
yer knowledge, nev’r been a builder! – Nev’r taken the bucket on the
shoulders, and the manliness that you show off, delicate and feminine
as I am, doesn’t touch me, and never such dimension has been my
desire, not even leafing through magazines at the hairdresser, when
the Eton crop was fashionable, they went so far! - Dulcis in fundo: if
you have the heart as disgusting as this basket of "dirty persimmons"
and you do not want to show me the direction taken by my friends, well
and farewell!
Grace: Good! – I am with her!
Joe: The clicking of the heels..., comes out of the mouth of the young
pedlar with a fixed place, who, striving to remember, adds slowly...it
seems to me to have felt it clearly, while she passed behind my back,
surely leaving, therefore she went towards the blind alley, otherwise
turning left or right, the sound would not have reached me in
dispersion, on the large pebbles.
Grace: The Miss. answered running away: thanks a lot, are the large
pebbles mouthydicks? – God, what a stress, this vegetable greengrocery
Italian!
Joe: What a wind! - You close that window. - those voices that reach
you do not answer to truth - moreover the game is finished – We would
need the Thousands, otherwise we would still be at the stage of
throwing stones and by now we have turned the Millennium too and are
acid minorchi, difficult to get in the drugstore, if we can’t see our
way. - The past year we suffered from the heat, while this year the
summer sometimes is mild as spring and many other days taste of
autumn. – A sweeter future is in sight, with no furious jolts of
temperature. - Better! - Even though this climate of sparkling
fickleness transmits elasticity of thought about the future of our
planet, with news of drought one year and a typically Biblical other
of emerged lands overflowed with waters.
Grace: Exactly! - You are becoming extensive, of the type of the
pants’ elastic under the pressure of the air forced by the wind, bent
between the washing hung at the line, which acts as a thread, that I’m
making to you since a pair of weeks – in vain! - If it were not for
the greengrocer, who seeing me passing in front of his small cart,
punctually tears me to pieces with his eyes - when would I feel a
woman?
Joe: I recommend that one! - In order to sell a pair of "Cucumbers" he
would be able to throw away even the basket coloured as a lotus
flower, since a few days in good display waiting to ripen, in order
not to hold us far in time from the buzz of the flies, which are
little noticed this year with the mosquitoes also on the Domitiana. -
It seems the bugs have changed residence returning to him, little
wonder if he wants to make his income wooing all the females of the
area, who feel more women under his glances of fake macho of a
commercial order.
Grace: I do not know! - As you have pronounced "fake macho" I ask
myself: it was referred to me, to him or to you?
Joe: Again with the three stuff, like the spheres? – Shall we try not
to cook all in the oven for the pizzas? – Let’s donate to the matter,
a more spectacular tone – by Jove!
Grace: Boyo,boyo…’ve ye seen a lad wi’ two chicks? - I understand
where your speech was heading – would you like me to phone one of my
friends to get you excited?
Joe: There’s no reason to be so dramatic - perhaps we have only
mistaken the day. – I can’t remember when and why we have established
that on Monday we don’t go out and once back from work, we stay in to
dedicate some time to love…
Grace: Otherwise it’s not going to happen at all; at least in this
way, it was our intention, we save the face of virility until next
week; to which day I give and to which I put!
Joe: Rather than always thinking to the same thing, just not to
forget, when you must call sick; better you remove the clothes from
the balcony - a thunderstorm is announced, as soon as the wind calms
down.
Grace: the word virility, has given you the idea of the water
hurricane?
Joe: Of spermaflex! - If we change day! – Is it ever possible for you
not to think about sex? - The week is not even begun and you are
dreaming with spread legs!
Grace: What is that condom doing hung to the towel rail in the
bathroom? - When I have seen it for the first time, I have felt I must
dare all my drowsy sensuality. - I thought it was the sign it was
finally the right time – I went so far as thinking of having a baby.
Joe: Punctual as the monthly period, every month has come the phone
technician. - In four years, he has been in this room forty eight
times. - the walls that encircle us, for them they have no more
secrets and moreover the pictures are published on the Internet; even
wanting to act the part that the space is not under observation of
cables in the atmosphere, I ask why they do not leave in peace the
telephone and do not move their attentions onto the Internet, inasmuch
as I have all published on several digital design newspapers world-
wide?
Grace: Apart the menstrual cycle on which I agree, I presume,
continuing the speech, you would have added that then the technician,
during the visit, kindly asks to go to the toilet and you have already
prepared the condom washed, hung to the line with the clothespin –
excuse me - I do not understand! – You are great talking about sex,
maybe with the technicians you entrust yourself to profane signs of
artistic interpretations which escape me because of a love issue?
Joe: These would also love to take the piss – they spy in the bath in
order to see the turd that is made, you make or I make? – But they
never will enjoy! - Fetishly speaking: they will take the smell in
that place!
Grace: ... And the meatballs?
Joe: With medium finger pointed! – This morning the technician has
declared that the wires had been quite detached - I have the signed
receipt, from him, for the service. - Last, those of the telephone
company are not in a position to scatter smells in the air, but the
cords of the public expenditure on gas, these people vaporize every
thing, are quite in a position to make feel sounds or noises in the
same volatile material that they know well how to encapsulate and to
make it decant, to express, and this is another matter.
Grace: How was that logo espionage, outside the telephone booth, with
two souls in a single rhomboid body - one talks and the other warns to
put attention on those who listen in the air and Heavens: "... And
that the angels give breath to their trumpets to announce the great
artist!” - You have such supporters and complain?
Joe: Shut up! - For years we couldn’t communicate, as much horrible
and scratching was the noise that came out of the phone, worse than
the congress of rooks on the roof, while I’m been bundled up in
reading.
Grace: I remember: as it rained the phone went out of service. - The
technician after some days was here to repeat that the optical cables
suffer the humidity. - There is to note, finally, that progress has
made giant steps, in fact now only severing it your receiver actually
shuts up, like the usual, common rascal, who takes the measures
through bad words, and they interact in the space of the various
languages, and the more he says the more he is not listened to, at
least understood, but he is convinced that "cok in Turkey is kock" I
can’t see straight – Medina’s stuff - boh! – Let’s imagine a
republican who picks up one of your conversations and discovers the
cabbage that he puts in the head of a Socialist, just for him to
appear the first social climber, and this once was avoided at all
costs… - and then when these intelligent airs from the political
territory jump on the economic one, spiritual or of chronicle and why
not of sport or show, what remains of your thinking?
Joe: I do not deny that this feeling of being observed refrains my
sexual instincts; I understand perfectly that that’s my paranoia to
which I do not know how to obviate. - I have thought too about how to
feel excited in the presence of optic fibres, terminals of a hedgehog,
led, little microscopic spheres, which however you put them positioned
on their diameter, equally they break the balls, instead of tingling
drowsy instincts - once we are two, what purpose they serve these
scientific observations? - To establish the index of sexual desire?
Grace: It was going well! - The solution was cultural and dynamic,
with an erotic background in addition, and nothing less than a third
party, that is felt, but not seen. - We had all the ingredients like
somersaults on the bed, then you have inserted the common place
"Bored" and I have cooled down; by the way you have missed the angle-
shot of the diagonal on which posit diametrically the balls in the
triangle, metronome that we have already analyzed, in a time for sex
in harmony.
Joe: Excuse me if I have disturbed you with a forced breach, but where
have you heard...
Grace: ... You know well that vulgarity is not consonant with me! - We
are in the third or fourth week of engagement taken in words and such
it has remained. - It must be agreed that our harmony work very well
in the days dedicated to all that interests us, but sex, when we
acknowledge the consecrated duty to it, is revealed to be a joke. -
When comes the fatidic date of the erotic appointment, goodbye to
engagements shaken in a vortex of words, perhaps it remains a raccoon
priest, to whom to ask blessing, and if just we do not want to put it
on spirituality, we affirm that one of its word will carry luck,
otherwise at this rate, sure I will return virgin again, because I
feel my flesh shrinking in the sentimental dryness that you transmit
with your electronic anxieties.
Joe: I wish it was so simple! - We would have found the cure for
haemorrhoids – at the very least! - Someone asserts that the earth in
the inside is cold, while the gay cults that become precious in the
closet of their anus, catching there a glimpse of the centre of the
external world, there they keep warm.
Grace: Stop it! - you can’t think other than about yourself, even if
not to a visceral level like them, nonetheless you are so into your
own self, that no trace of love will remain of your passage on this
planet. - You cannot go on living your illusion of stadium hero
reflected in others, without adding that you are not a great
interpreter and not even a fan. - "Sympathizers" is the word you need
and with which you think you could solve the anguish that grips you,
regarding the outcome of your main goal, that of winning them as
supporters, definitively, and only in this way, you know you will find
the justification of an existence badly spent in the mirror of a
conscience: yours! - All that would be nothing, unfortunately...
Joe: ... Nine and one ten, point - Ohi, ohi! - How much acidity! - I
presume you will unload the horizontal nothing as an eight from two
little circles spread in order not to get bored. – Let’s profit from
it in order to change the pre coitus schedule: from today on the
weekly sexual appointment is fixed for Wednesday - day for pole-
jumping. - Wednesday from Golden Mercury that makes so much Knight of
Work, I do not know if I am clear: the Miss understands…
Grace: Amen!
Joe: Wednesday of Cathar heresy – Pirandello’s Philosophy of the Far
Away - purifying from here to eternity or waiting for a remote past
mixed to historical courses and recourses that often are pertinent to
the present, until the Cathars of the medieval dualistic schism or to
the future Chiarchiaro of a darker future, according to the character,
or more clear in the moment of clarity according to "Titolto". – Let’s
put our couple philosophy as a freeing dualism from the anxieties of
having to comply with the sexual duties in order to satisfy the
requirements of one’s own degenerated partner, otherwise this female
of insatiable sexual appetites will make me the referee of a course of
action that I have not followed, changing hairdo and at the same time
hoping in some grey hair as normal return from black to blond.

 hoping in some grey hair as normal return from black to blond.
Grace: Exegete has as synonyms, interpreter, as well as critic. –
There are those who affirm that the critic creates the artist. -
Sincerely speaking I assure you, as a critic in sexual matters: in
words you are able to express remarkable values, but as a smoky
interpreter, it is difficult to find condoms in the air of the
panettone cloud, in the vapours of the chef’s hat.
Joe: Do I purr to the draught in any way? - Fish juices for vaporous
erotic kitchen? - Thank our Lady the always Virgin Mary under the
Three Bridges if we are only on Monday, and you are spared!
Grace: Otherwise you would have smashed me? - Do not scruple and be
strong with my orations – I am a believer! - I can therefore go to
church, and re-enter in a flash after having made an act of
mortification to our Lady that allows me to manipulate the date on the
calendar to loving ends. - We are on Wednesday: undress!
Joe: O.K.! - You want to put it like Grace Received from Our
Omnipresent Lord? – I’ll please you! – Show me those small holy
pictures that the priest has given you!
Grace: Five minutes I’ve been watching you untie your belt, but shall
I go up on Cloudyone to see Naples by Night from above?
Joe: What’s Cloudyone?
Grace: The ionization of the air in a cloud in the shape of a chef’s
hat.
Joe: That one like a babà? - Please! - Put a little rum in it - it is
better enjoyed!
Grace: Sure it does not burn?
Joe: If should happen to you to get burnt, the hose has been inserted,
you need just to open the tap in order to hand over your graces to the
summer shower that refreshes the strawberries of love.
Grace: Yum! - Strawberries with cream - my favourite!
Joe: Have a nice meal!
Grace: Ice cream delicacy that acts as a mix for your data, the
strangest that belong to a cocktail, aperitif and appetizer. – I am
just curious to discover if you enjoy the dinner party of tomorrow,
perhaps it is better to start from far away or twenty two hours aren’t
enough, in order to be prepared to such complex mission?
Joe: Here! – Take your trousers off, as we are, show immediately what
underwear you have: have you nothing better to think about to replace
the anxiety of a hypothetical tomorrow to come to satisfy your
curiosities? Instead of trying to make this moment interminable? -
Obvious evidence, this idyll in anguishes: between us, you are the one
that doesn’t go very well with sex! - Inquiring into your ancient
critical patrimony you are worthy, but as an interpreter, you choose
the wrong time and you don’t care! – You profit and you are in peace
in your security of having at your side a man like me! - Continuing
you walk all posh (?) moving your bottom up! - Oh, pardon! - Sometimes
the tax code of good manners involves some unfair trick - I meant to
say nose.
Grace: Spoken your view - I can admire satisfied, noticing that you
expressed yourself exaggeratedly in a spanishy musical key rock
passion decadentas hung to the whip, which seems has been banned, or
do wish I bend, my master?
Joe: Please sit down in the next room – I’ll see you tomorrow! - The
cross of torture is engaged in the job to full regimen, in holding you
back!
The television transmits colour in the atmosphere, a bundle of uniform
light expands from the centre towards the edges, leaving yellow spots,
green, blue echo centric in the angles. - Observing the faded wings of
the screen, a lack of concentration of forces in the cathode-ray tube
is clearly noticed. - In twenty minutes the eighteen o’clock news -
Goodbye! - The audio is gone too - stop/ sent message.
Grace: You have been over an hour seated in an unbecoming posture on
that seat, fixed, motionless in front of this horrible gadget that
transmits red images, like an x rays film? – Are we perhaps ready to
exhume in the sun in this way during an eclipse? - Love! – I am
worried about you, I can’t see at your collar the copper anti-
radioactivity plaque. – You look like an ionized tree in a radio
station transmitting one hundred thousand egocentric Olmstroms.
Joe: I beg your pardon! - Today I prefer to fulfil my needs in the
house - I feel an Irpine wolf, evergreen, bristly, feathered and
mandrill in FM. - Sure, it is difficult to interpret the couple life
for those who are external to this reading, or all live the same
Radiomustori crap?
Grace: Don’t joke! – You must get out for the evening walk with the
dog. – I’m already in pyjamas!
Joe: That much beloved dog is always on his own, I do not understand
why you don’t train him to go to the toilet by himself…– Is it
necessary to build a comfortable garret over the roof instead that on
the street?
Grace: On the street? - You feel stupid and father of that poor little
pet? – I’m in pain for having disturbed you; I hope you will forgive
me. - That means that I’ll cover myself and go.
Joe: Stay… – I’ll go down with Feefee to have a walk.
Grace: Entering the room, in those few minutes during which I have
followed what you were watching on television, before the last
commercial, the program seemed interesting indeed, I admit: beautiful
images! - The perspective of that cloud scattered in space with no
dwelling makes me curious. – What was it exactly? - It would be
wonderful, as only you can be, if, when you return from the walk with
the dog, we switched on the recorder, so as to follow together every
thing lost of the yarn until the point, and from there we would assist
to the end of the show, watching on this red lights monitor, which
well reflects the flare on my dress glued in Latex of electric blue
rubber that I will wear for you and Feefee, to be admired by my
beasts.
Joe: Lurex not Latex and then cobalt not electric blue - it seems that
I have paid for it, while you never give presents!
Grace: Latex from rubber latex and Lurex is a man-made fibre; by the
way it’s not suitable for tires, not even for wrapping. - If you do
not know the intimate facts, why do you want to enter in the feminine
clothes talking nonsense? - Finally: the keys of the car, who gave
them to you, your mother?
Joe: Look, it’s you, when you go out in latex to make the gossip
insinuate hot wheel jokes. - After you lost the originals, you made
copies?
Grace: Do you want to tell again this story or shall I here repeat
apropos how many examples we have of you on the Domitiana, cueing
perfumed with pines, and would be wonderful as only you can be, when
it’s about being repetitive and sharp and never arrive or you get
confused two times loving the same streetwalker that it’s not me, for
original you are when inspiration comes – madness - he also goes
paying – so the little faggots of the square get still hornier. -
Jesus, Jesus!
Joe: When? – My goodness! - You have had the courage to ask and you
deserve to be pleased! - How much it costs me to walk the dog for a
piss? - Nothing thinking to a duty to acquit for you. - However you
must also do something, you can’t receive always these images of solar
lens nailed to the same place; feel free to start preparing a pre-
narration drink! - Bye!
Grace: Already back after twenty minutes I am still to the garters- I
can’t find the flower!
Joe: Just stay like that - what do I care? -... Oh gorgeous: you look
like the Statue of Liberty with that rose in hand to put into the
garter. – By the way, the greengrocer has sold the last basket of
dried fruits, not only has finished the seasonal, and after that also
the juice of pressed citruses has gone, today we remain alone between
figs, bananas and pears in the fridge, for the Wednesday fruit salad.
Grace: "I feel all tight" I have exclaimed this morning in the
laboratory between me and the analyses bottles – help me close the zip
please - I wished in fact a strengthening orange juice, antibacterial
vitamin dulcifying with natural sugars. - my colleague asked me if by
chance I had seated on a bench, adding that with all those chewy gums,
get stuck to the wood even the hairs and after you need kites flying
in the winds to recover them straight on the face: how annoying!
Joe: You stop looking in the microscope in search of slimy lichens! -
Staminals, that is the cells thanks to which it is possible to recover
hairs and pigmentation, in order not to remain eternally “rich nose I
reach close”, in search of pure air like wolves, why stam... inhaling
only pollution? – Understand…
Grace: Pig... mentation don’t I know it? – Don’t I know... pig...
temptation? - In making swine talk you are unsurpassable and you even
repeat them: inverted! - Give yourself to sausages! - The genuine
product like me is not good for you! – As for the staminals, which you
think you need for the drowsy sexual appetites, I assure you that if
instead of throwing money away in borderless wars, they devolved such
sums to us pre-existent on the argument, well would we know how to
hire the proper staff, to distribute to the many laboratories
scattered through the world in research and then you would discover
how thanks to the embryonic cells, we would fly better then the
nuclear supersonic jet planes - indeed! - Come to the point!
Joe: "Isse" in the first scene goes up the stairs that lead to the
railroad suspended onto the city, higher the highway in zone Volero
One, where there are bridges that from above fall heavily in the
valley, as they were roots of arteries in search of their traffic. –
doesn’t buy a ticket, perhaps the one he’s got is false, counterfeit
as a value banknote - the true money already have been seized by those
in power. - In the advertising poster, beside the ticket office, is
shot a nail-file, a pencil and some watercolours with paint-brush,
poor stuff...
Grace: ...date change in correction for colour shading? - But what are
you saying?
Joe: Lifts the old colour that is out of date and inserting the new
one, updates.
Grace: What has this to do with the ionization?
Joe: According to you Isse has got the electrons gun? – Do you realize
that you risk losing third parties and capital, betting on one for
another? - Do you want to follow a yarn or to direct another film
without subject? - At these conditions, I’m not bothered to go on!
Grace: Then according to you eroticism can be ionized?
Joe: You get no where with the question formulated in this way! - That
then this excitation can be produced, investing with fot... ons the
neuralgic cells where this synapse is manifest, that’s quite another
piece of cake, as it can also be intervened on the physical glands of
development or erection and that is not a sin.
Grace: you have made the worthiest analysis. – Can I propose you as
“active intelligentsia" for the laboratory where I am employed? - I
translate from spoken English: up is to on, like sin to sin plus yes.
-, yes that is two neurons that meet and proceed up and down through
the mental paths.
Joe: Are you joking? - All day long near you - but what up and down of
thought you’re talking about? - Too much laborious! - Today we are
technological - we excite ourselves from seated, at once -
immediately!
Grace: Uselessly I stop you quickly - I would not want to put out of
order your synapses in elevation.
Joe: Strangely, entered the long platform "Isse" watches readily the
little distant side through the hatch of the passengers, where ended
the paved path begins the countryside or what could be a strip of
green burnt by rusty soot, which wraps the blades of grass in the
vicinities of the trains, soon beyond the cobblestones.
Grace: The singular for cobblestone? - Slice this “ uallera “ for me
and serve it to supper in the plate with tomato salad.
Joe: Suddenly appears a fox and there it stands on the railroad, a few
yards away, perhaps a dozen, from where he turned to look to its
passage, notices the clever animal that was crossing from one spot of
vegetation to the other. - The two beings fix each other and it is not
known for how long they stay like that, in this surrealistic dimension
under the daylight. – Foxes generally, when they live near inhabited
places, become mainly nocturnal animals, I presume it was a late
summery afternoon, the sky was still of a very intense blue. – Stop /
sent message. - The scene changes without giving us the comfort of the
time with him that starts walking along this stripe of extended
lateral paving - the benches are all occupied, standing persons are
not noticed - on a bench there is a single figure – it’s a girl seated
on the edge of the back of the bench - Isse seats down. - Another girl
joins, she lays down like the previous one, or maybe not, because is
he that accommodates himself on the top, influenced by something in
the air and would want to catch the sky or perhaps the chewy gum that
can’t be seen pushes him up, in order not to find it later attached to
the trousers, or some other alien nonsense?
Grace: The fact that it is not known how they are seated will preclude
the rest of the story that seems to me should be divided between
artesigns and subcaptoactionem.
Joe: Altocapto... eventually! - Silliness, or better is if we omit,
because there’s no certainty, like for how good is youth that goes –
how can it be established who has got the keys of power instant after
instant? - It is a Dithyramb! - The contemporary reality certifies
that only the drunks have certainties because unsurpassable in
eccentric visions. - Right! - Then there would be the junkies, then
the scientists who mill all summa philosophica of the material reality
and finally the artists that spiritualize matter through pathos: we
try to recover youth, we save junkies. - Then Christ is an artist? -
Not! - He is the son of God, therefore also artist, but is not a fib
teller, then cannot be an artist. – Comprende.
Grace: Let’s see if I got it: Isse notices the girls – warns them as
witnesses of an action that is living in that reality - meeting again
such action, he would not recognize them. - Important for him was to
establish not to be wrapped in a perpetual motion of the solar sleep?
Joe: In front of him a single cloud, enormous, hovers about a limpid
sky: Cloudyone. - Wonderful colours run after each other in the
shadings of grey and yellow - reflected solar image, from behind his
shoulders, than he did not see, but perceived from the diminished heat
moved by the leaves, filters of beams coming from beyond the trees. -
He begins to program mnemonically the vision that he is observing. -
We are in the presence of a high moment of ecstasy – as soon as such
dimension has reached its apex it is dissolved, because into the cloud
the face of a famous locomotive from animated cartoons is designed,
kill-joy, moreover the hiss of the oncoming train is heard and he
notices it, when he is detached from all, with incredible sufficiency,
while the puffing train in the sky, seems to dissolve itself offended
that he has not been bewitched beyond the waiting time...
Grace: ...In order not to be fascinated by technological phenomena
that would mock - of the type: toh! - Look here! - I have written too
the same identical thing! - The Ministerial Alien of writing wants to
make fun of us?
Joe: Why…do you write with the paint-brush? - If you do not know how
to paint, why you make faded jokes? – It truly happened! - It is not a
hallucinated
result of philo-pillgenic pre-Millennium speech!
Grace: We, in the sense of goodness knows here or with whom we set out
in the knowledge of our apparitions, until pluralia maiestatis that
would bring us security, and if it were indeed God playing with him? -
Why not, if it transmits all technological and never at miracle? - Not
even for di…wine joke...? - All is becoming grave, God, between
serious and facetious - I don’t know… it was once; currently is
comprende.
Joe: A binary time passed between fox and cloud, quantifiable in weeks
and months, when the invitation to a concert comes. - He wants to go
and to be in shape in the late evening so as to introduce himself
splendid and dazzling, goes to sleep in the afternoon. - A tremendous
shot awakens him – outside it is tempest - he is aroused and in the
doziness he hears a dripping. - The hearing leads him to the shoe,
above which a hole, of the diameter of a bullet, is opened in the
ceiling plaster, with the drop that falls just in the footwear in the
corner far from the bed. – Boh?! – A few months earlier he had painted
a gun "Erotika Sfax no Spam Internet" and soon after he noticed in
front of the lobby of the house a wet halo in the shape of a gun, as
if it were liquid fallen from the plants watered on his balcony. -
Still a few days later and in the park, all the children are playing
with wonderful pressure water guns - never seen before! - By now
really wide awake, he goes in the bathroom and astonished notices that
here it’s dripping in the same way from the ceiling, nearly in line
with the toilet, a single drop falls rhythmic and steady, but here, in
this environment, he doesn’t notice the plaster fallen off, but a
swollen halo odourless, as it were a big cack attached to the ceiling.
- He strives with drop collecting buckets and phones the maintenance
authority, which says that the hydraulic engineers are super engaged
at the moment, also they guarantee from the office that they would
have come definitely in a few days, they add that the entire city  is
heavily hit by the rain - a little patience and all will be solved. -
He switches on the computer dedicating himself to the newsgroups, as
usual anyway, trying not to forget the domestic duties because of
whole wise hack-characters that always drag him out of topic. - He
resolves first to avoid losing control on the adverse meteorological
condition, which could cause serious troubles to his habitation at
that moment. – Between a crash and another... with the computer
shovel, he goes into the bedroom in order to assess how it’s swelling,
not the plaster but the water bucket: it is worrisome! - He empties it
and begins to fear not to be able to assist to the show of his
musician friends that are playing not far from his place. - He returns
to the writing desk and heavens! Shock look walls: where the row of
pictures ends, there, just where the frame is, with only the glass in
the waiting for the painting still unborn, notices the water that
comes down in little streams attached to the wall, all the way to the
window. – Astonishment for an instant: the apprehensions are a luxury
that he cannot afford: he has had a heart operation and is well aware
of the danger of real pain in the neck. - The pictures on that wall
for the greater part are watercolours and with open frames, without
protective lateral mouldings to understand each other, held together
by metallic clothespins and removing them from the wall is a pain. –
Nailed to the chair he carefully observes the corner between walls and
ceiling upon the writing desk, where he seats and observes the water
that comes down flowing and marking it with a glance he stays aware
for eventual further openings a bit further in the approximately a
meter of empty wall, because, if the water leaked also in the area
where the pictures are hung, it could cause irreparable damages to the
paintings, therefore he stays ready to move the paintings if
necessary. - Between the frames there is an empty one and the water
flows fast and luminous behind it. - The frame of transparent glass
into which is read the white wall is rendered still more luminous by
the water that flows on the facade of a snowy tint and by the light
bulb in front of the monitor, which reflects its flare on it. - It
seems to be stuck in a car at the automatic washing station, only
lacking the windshield-wipers. - He remembers when in the furnishing
factory they inserted a water wall against the atmospheric pollution,
mainly powder from a carpenter's shop, which conditioned the paint job
in the spray room and almost he laughs at all the rubbish that makes
recycled rubbish that is cleanliness, put on purpose rightly on his
paintings, that absolutely must not take water and when he decides to
detach the watercolours from the wall, the rain stops, as by spell. -
In his previous house, finished a picture, whose subject was exactly
the "Pollution", that is the atmospheric pollution in the vegetative
underbrush of that region, after the atomic outbreak, behold on the
part of the painting where there is the bird, when he sprayed the
final filter on the work skilfully executed, drying it on the basin in
the kitchen because there wasn’t much more free space in that room;
the tap anyway had a safe closing, but instead incredibly, going in
the bath for a morning shower to go to work shortly after, he heard
the same tap, which from the shower animated flowing in the kitchen –
My God! - He succeeded in recovering the work and left the halo of
streams for remembrance. – The same identical streams are noticed now
on the wall, almost as if he had to remember the first time, when he
annotated that such threading belonged to a painter friend who assured
that they were the idea of still another good artist, a black American
died prematurely of drugs abuse; I don’t remember his name but little
matters, since the abstract painting does not interest me; apart from
following his paintings because I know him and he is a very good
painter, therefore I find constructive and in tone to admire one of
his pictures or mine, , of different schools but witnesses of cultural
intelligent moments. - He or I, a Christ artist, scientist, junkie,
drunk - what does it matter? - After this parenthesis, there he goes,
leaving for the concert - the Underground is flooded. - After a few
stops on foot, he reaches the appointment with music, all proceeds for
the best - they play divinely - most virtuous! - The day after he
notices in the house a spot similar to the cloud observed at the time
of the fox on the railroad. - The humid halo has appeared underneath
the ceiling, exactly above the computer, probably there was staying
the water on the roof and having to give new enamel to the ceiling,
finally he decides that Cloudyone must be painted in order to exit his
mental archives. - The hydraulic engineers come, one of them goes and
another arrives, this or the other, now I don’t remember, with no
ladder dives onto the roofs, returning to the base in a moment. - He,
physically agile and powerful, assures that it will be all resolved in
a flash: three tiles have been pierced and must be immediately
replaced. - He does not have pauses, chews fast the words, there is
something in his mouth of the colour of emptiness that can’t be
understood, perhaps colourful rubber of tongue tint, like the Spanish
girl at the party whose friend had a boob out… in short, the pipes
that collect the rain from the roofs didn’t bear the incredible
capacity of water fallen from the sky - well yes - the day after, the
daily paper of greater popular diffusion launches a competition for
Mister Universe exposing exclusively plumbers as models, assuring the
females that this category numbers the most beautiful and valiant men
who can be met in the city roads today - well - to the attack – ours
are arriving.
Grace: A couple of years have passed, you haven’t changed at all since
you declared that you follow only the artists, that is you or them,
mutually, for here you are, as intelligent speech - nevertheless you
are just a critic – I didn’t get to which degree you would rise, if
you truly were an original interpreter… - Today is Christmas Day, very
peculiar period for God fearing creatures as we are, made in image and
likeness of Our Lord on this planet – do you think it’s nice what you
assert, without immolating yourself for us?
Joe: Your salvation in exchange for my critical Glory? – Are you mad?
- I prefer to die damned and live three hundred and fifty years
longer, at least, just to see you burst if you do not answer to my
outlines in a satisfactory way - today we can be saved, all together!
Grace: Without the devil we can’t know good - if you succeeded in
living as long goodness knows how much you would have to suffer,
waiting to re-establish all your bodily values. - A strong battle of
plasma and related contents would be set in action in your organism,
between manipulated T-cells carriers of new blood systems and those
still functioning, which do not want to succumb, even if by now they
are on the way of the sunset boulevard.
Joe: Have you heard bodily?
Grace: I think so!
Joe: Is it inherent to your writing program?
Grace: I do not understand! - I do not write - sometimes I think with
more engagement.
Joe: Imagine that the contemporary world is revealing yourself that is
the protein content that belongs to you. - It turns out therefore: if
via pre-Millennium you had the word, that was born from the
unconscious and reached the pre-conscious through sub-conscious before
introducing itself, intuitively at times, today, once your concept has
been embodied, technologically we can just fly over the pre-conscious
and then you feel the word librating inside you as if coming from a
different source, because you don’t register that it has changed
route. – Comprende.
Grace: Too complicated! - Absolutely I don’t believe that at a
scientific level we are already there!
Joe: And if it were God?
Grace: Who reveals himself to us, He indicating the path to follow, in
order to know better ourselves in a Millennium way? – Fascinating
idea, but far from the truth, and a lot. - It should be exclaimed: how
nice the new religion, if so it were!
Joe: In fact the ancient stories of the sacred texts do not poke
anymore and we are in a critical search of a new spiritual dimension
more consonant with us, been born house and lived techno, punk, heavy
metal, screwball, headstrong of white marble gothic graves black skirt
with laces, trash animal, deep rock depth and rock ‘n’ roll.
Grace: Therefore the technological conscience of God participates in
the effort to improve oneself and, once developed a new concept in a
word, it is felt of divine bounce every time the need is
Joe: As it could happen to those old dotards when they go shopping.
Grace: Interesting!
Joe: The computer writes continuously.
Grace: At the same moment it reads me, it writes?
Joe: The computer writes also when it’s using paint-brushes and
pencils.
Grace: Nobody is such a model as I am! - The computer has taste!
Joe: Remains the anguish of sale errors, that is those products that
lose market as they were born or little after being stored risk to rot
lying in the stockroom.
Grace: With this body of a model I’ve got you could have saved this
sentence, after having ascertained that the computer appreciates my
endowment.
Joe: Beh! - Until there will be wars it will be difficult to think to
normalize the market, which can travel towards deficit against our
will, simply because of wrong programs (?) and there’s no market
research that is of any value, because the market itself produces more
than one hundred percent of the consumption, then necessarily it is
going to collapse automatically, until the misery of the goods
remained in stock born useless because of surplus production, that is
for a mistake, like the case we are discussing, in spite of base (?)
research.
Grace: How many beauty products are sold more than others surely
better, just because the testimonial is exceptional? – The actual
models are graphic designs and the public if they don’t see the well
known piece of meat, don’t buy, or if they do, with those who are
leading the advertising presentations, want to pay less. - Leafing
through a magazine, we notice how we are going towards the
depersonalization, step by step we walk towards a market more and more
decreasing, not to say poor.
 Joe: Let’s suppose that the sale program at the beginning of the
season conditions the market, like the given winning look for the
period in examination, according to the contemporary interests. – The
economic situation of sales, fatally introduced by a technological
operator, skilful in putting ahead the factors of stocks, fruit of
investment for the conductors of that market; notice and let me know
if we all are not going to the new stereotype of fashion, which wraps
us up from all sides in the name of a new wind of innovation,
immediately duplicated as soon as it turns out to be vehicle that
pulls, therefore copy of product at a low cost for Asian stalls, which
render us similarly covered, rather than alternative to cost-culture
research in fashion that we are destroying, because only oriented to
that small circle of elects, the rich romantics, which can choose what
they want, exiting from the mass like they think more appropriately,
changing from flash in flash their fashion. – From the accountability
of the cash registers of the sector, it turns out, blimey, that the
well-off people are diminishing and the sales decrease, the price goes
down and we run the risk to see burnt the handcraft clothing’s shooil,
as an example.
Grace: Wake up! - The craftsmen are finished long ago! - Regarding the
import product, that is not Mercedes or Jaguar, I answer: stall for
stall, at this point I prefer our greengrocer. – While regarding the
idiot in turn that takes delight in the hobby of the moment: that of
manoeuvring artificial intelligences that is the pockets of those less
well-to-do, there would be much to say, but to what purpose?
Joe: Better to save the arrows of our own bow for the approaching
elections, when they serve hard news. - Apropos, yesterday I had no
lemon and wanted to make a tea, then went down quickly - guess what
the greengrocer asked me…
Grace: Those dirty dialogues of yours don’t interest me!
Joe: Fenced? – He doesn’t have an ass to attach to the farm… - He told
me about our former landlord, before we acquired the house, currently
our neighbour of the building next door.
Grace: He looks a good person. - By now I've been living in this area
for years and I do not have anything to object, indeed I find him
distinguished and obsequious.
Joe: I’ve been born and lived in this neighbourhood and I remember
that between him and the greengrocer friendship never lacked, indeed
nice to look at because of the age gap.
Grace: All the same I do not want to know your secrets, because with
your greengrocer friend at the centre of the discussion, some nasty
news will come out, and today is Christmas Day - spare me!
Joe: Not even if I guarantee you that I am about to tell a little tale
of life, perhaps a bit risqué, but a very pretty one?
Grace: All right - I listen! – Be quick, kindly! - My parents during
the festivity are impatient; or nostalgic in the waiting? - Eager is
perhaps the most appropriate term, undoubtedly the post-war Christmas
had to be one hundred thousand times different, from the same event of
these years. – In the black and white films the festivity air is
completely another story, and it’s not just supermarket’s fault,
because also in the films of the sixties can be noticed that Christmas
has changed totally if compared to our days.
Joe: But what are you jabbering about? You make me waste my time - all
at once we are in New Year's Eve - the greengrocer has given me a
remarkably spicy confidence. Needless to add that now you listen and
what I tell you must stay between us.
Grace: Kindly, tell me nothing of your secrets and start to make
ready, otherwise we will be late.
Joe: Our former owner, a couple of seasons ago, let’s say in summer,
began to be connected to the Internet and precisely on pornographic
sites.
Grace: No wonder the greengrocer has recommended you notify me this
for goodness knows what recondite reason. – I can visualize the
libidinous interest and the relative expressions you assumed about
this vicissitude as you poured out the arguments that bounced on the
coloured vegetables and by the way, no customer stopped to divert you?
Joe: His mother came to replace him for half an hour and we went to
the bar.
Grace: I remember I leaned out of the window to ask you to get some
celery for the pasta with chick peas, but I did not see you and not
even he, seated behind the battery of empty baskets, was present.
Joe: The good old man, as I was saying, is specialized in porn videos,
worried about the impending old age. - In less than ten years, he
says, he won’t be able to take care of himself, and then he will need
someone to clean up his needs.
Grace: The story is getting me, but if you want me to vomit change
channel.
Joe: Exactly! - This extreme videos have become numerous on the
Internet, more pages then the amount of bulky encyclopaedias, thousand
and thousand of young wannabe actors, they change continuously day
after day, image after image and our active hero was specialized in
www.caccone.com
.
Grace: On a cyclostyled page of the e-zine 
www.rosapornetty.com
 I
found in the seat beside me in the underground I noticed they do not
joke, not even with urine analyses.
Joe: And you watch today and again tomorrow, at a certain time our
neighbour of age discovers a kind of empathy for a woman and been into
an agency asks them to trace her down.
Grace: It is fashionable on these sites, according to what has been
told me, to show embraces between old and young people. - But he
doesn’t find her, does he? - Being the girl a graphic design, I mean.
Joe: The elder counting on these feelings, that is establishing that
at the end they will well be porn starlets trying to widen their
success or half-prostitutes, or failed actresses hoping to recover a
stage, vanished evermore, however they are persons who are used to
aged odours and for him to rise to panacea of thought, being taken
care in the future by somebody true, rather than a nurse or social
worker that was, professional or private that is.
Grace: I can’t imagine the conclusion of the story – please go on, but
faster kindly; for the millionth time I ask you: are you trying to
tell me that it is a graphic design or not?
Joe: No! - Because not all girls are good as you are! – Satisfied now?
- The two met and they’ve been together for six months now!
Grace: Thinking about it now, I think I’ve seen him a couple of times
in the company of a beautiful girl; I thought she was her daughter or
perhaps grand daughter, he’s not so old after all, sixty five years or
even less - but rich enough! - Finally better to specify, that the age
of attendance is rising, you retire later because optimal health is
enjoyed nearly till eighty. Currently according to statistics there
are many nowadays living well with themselves till ninety.
Joe: After a few months that they attended each other, the girl moved
in and later our neighbour had troubles with her boyfriend.
Grace: Could it ever happen that the couple in flagrant in hunting the
biscuit did not profit of a poor old man?
Joe: And that as a result of a substantial sum deposited for his
splendid one, opening an account in her name.
Grace: Error not to repeat letting know your own assets to whoever
comes along, unless there is complete trust.
 Joe: Not at all! - Because the girl didn’t want to see her former
fiancée again, let’s call him pimp, having discovered the serenity of
a normal life thanks to the good man, who I don’t know what... well,
the former boyfriend seems to have disappeared and those two live
happily and content, so much that they start to think to marry
officially and in this story here it seems that I must be the wedding
witness(?), with the greengrocer.
Grace: Shame! The tern of perverted is served, plus the unfortunate
girl. No!
Joe: Little evil! If truly it will be so, I will ask to convince you,
for the signing on the wedding registries, because I ignore the
reasons, of your aversion.
Grace; Then yes! - I do not want to go into this sort of arguments and
we will do good thinking about marrying, at least we remove the
miserable ghost of a solitary old age.
Joe: Times are changing and in forty years, entering the seventies, we
will be still little kids.
Grace: Certainties yours still to come, while some months ago we went
to a dance hall and looked like two soaked ones. - The exercises for
warming up were opened out of breath already, since the first steps
for the carburetion.
Joe: One, two, take the step, speaking less, maybe running a little
more and why not, attend the night club a little more often?
Grace: We need a lot of jogging, also dance genre is a good exercise -
the da…mage is there – we don’t even move!
Joe: After six months my future compare equipped her beautiful every
day with personal money for the expenses and the conduction of the
house. - Lately, opening absent-mindedly a letter from the bank, he
noticed that the Miss, his assisted, had not touched any of the money
from the sum at her disposal and in occasion of his name-day, just a
few days ago, with the money received daily, plus those saved for
domestic necessities, meals included, she has given him as a gift a
trip to make together, in a few weeks.
Grace: And all lived happy ever after! – Come on, let’s make haste –
it’s late! – I’m going down – I’ll start the engine and I’ll take the
car outside the garage. - There is a snowy air.
Greengrocer: Good evening beautiful lady! - Joe has recommended me to
inform you about the invitation to the wedding.
Grace: Good evening to you! – I know - thanks! - It had to be a
secret, but it seems to be the new game of curiosity of the
neighbourhood "The... family" already on every mouth.
Greengrocer: Absolutely! - The maximum discretion! - The honeymoon
will lead in the laboratory of a famous aesthetic surgeon, for a
return to the base with the ring to the finger - rejuvenated. - Nice
thing religion, surely, a faith issue! - To me they are most likeable
and I’m glad for both, finally this is the society we live in and I
like it as it is, and if it wasn’t enough I have talked to her and
I’ve heard an indeed nice accent, common in our quarter, where all are
far from being variegated saints, but for introducing oneself, the
respectability does not represent an optional.
Grace: In fact, why society should not be coloured in this way also,
just in order to put the leash to the neck of a man who had escaped it
for more than thirty years, when he remained a widower and rich? - You
rather - when are you going to marry?
Greengrocer: I’m not lucky as Joe who has met a woman like you.
Grace: Ironic you are, tell me what you do in order to find a woman,
apart going in the public square, where really in the majority are
nearly all gay, plus you with your macho attitude between them.
Greengrocer: I was discussing the white dress with my mother, not
earlier than yesterday. - She, navigated lady of stall, pointed out
that today’s women are uglier, they assume an air of tomboy, which
little is understood and what to say about the men: nobody knows where
they want to berth their ships…
Grace: Ber... what? - You make only bangs with your mouth! - Trick
tracks good for New Year's Eve. - Femininity exists of course, and not
all girls have become hoydens or Misses of loose morals, unfortunately
with you those are the talks, otherwise they don’t curdle, and that is
sufficient from my part to push you to meditate in order to improve.
Greengrocer: Stop! - We noticed, also from food expenses, that
prostitution is decreasing - it seems that men get excite less by the
opposite sex and with that I tell you I don’t intend to start any
controversy.
Grace: Analysis directly proportional to the pressing gay phenomenon.
- In the great metropolis, where some areas were maintained crumbling
at use and consumption of the lovers of libido in nightly sidewalk,
today new atmospheres of vanguard are born, witnesses of a time that
was. – There fresh zones spring out, on ashes of sometimes somewhat
recent constructions. – Let’s speak the truth: the green is too much
spotted with concrete everywhere, without a logical regulatory plan.
Greengrocer: To these liquid levels of architecture we have come? –
Are you serious?
Grace: Beh! - Licentious humeral way, you can declare to whom
confidentially such arguments enjoy, during his evenings in places
where the sexual language still has appeal as acute call-back of
moments of togetherness. – I am singular: one single fairy!
Greengrocer: Why? Do you think I only express chatter of group? -
Impact?
Grace: OK! - We come to the facts: do you want me to send you a
consentient and curious friend to establish what kind of male you are?
Greengrocer: Truly you women have come to this much?
Grace: No! - But you are impossible! - Continuously you put out your
masculinity and you cannot deny it.
Greengrocer: I take the challenge! - I can very well have Viagra
supper, jumping the vegetables in issue!
Grace: At this point it will have been a challenge between spies, to
whom has captured the cucumbers first, launching the term from the
preconscious at a superior speed of the source, consequently the voice
heard at the table of negotiations would have to record a moment
subcaptoactionem to put to the attention of the colleagues, that is
those sycophants that have, they think, power over the artist.
Greengrocer: What are you saying? - Are we sure or we must fear the
curfew as during Second World War?
Grace: Excuse me! - Simple extemporary discussions with Joe. - In the
bets wins who represents the technological vanguard.
Greengrocer: Speaking about vegetables useful for the exercise, I tell
you that I see Joe appearing there, at the bottom of the sidewalk,
behind your shoulders!
Grace: Do not take the liberty to add: cucumberogene raised Viagra-
manipulated needy, because I’ll slap you in public!
Greengrocer: Society changes: in the supermarkets haste, more and more
seasoned vegetables and fruits, not to say stained by the
refrigerators, while on my stall the product is always fresher!
Grace: But how dear are you? – Let’s get to the point: two apples, two
oranges, two bananas, a lemon, salad and that’s all for today. -
Thanks! - Finally I would say: the water from the spring flows
smoothly to the sea, surely to the outlet, the initial state of purity
is unrecognizable, because of the many drainages along the route.
Greengrocer: Not at all! – The bag to you and the money to me. – I’ll
see you tomorrow and be benevolent to our neighbour’s future wife,
their idea is not bad at all; indeed to me it seems concretely right!
Grace: I convince myself more and more that the times are very
complicate and in this case I feel I must say mainly(?), that negative
life experiences, generally because of the need for money, then one
perceives the pleasure to change ways, differently without openings,
to future days of serene life.
Greengrocer: Then will you be present at the ceremony?
Grace: I still do not know it – I’ll have to work that day.
Greengrocer: Everywhere it seems a regimen climate is establishing
itself: missing an hour at work would mean trouble. - I think a
wedding is always an event and such it remains, rather unique than
rare. - In these times, moreover, the ceremony needs to be promoted
with firmness with the good example of white veil dress, included the
ceremony.
Grace: Why shouldn’t they give me a permit for a few hours, if not all
day?
Greengrocer: Sometimes it is not understood!

 wrote:
The hot and dusty mushroom made us fear it would melt the television
set and its liquid crystals, while its shadow left the panorama to a
fan of boughs attached to their trunk in the open air onto the screen
against the stars. – Rain was falling. - Furious gusts of water bathed
the lens - a breath of hope blown from forgotten distances diffused
throughout the mind. - After the anguish of the atomic bomb, the image
of the Isotta Fraschini leaned across the panorama was hope of a
future slightly cooler.
Grace: It is certainly fascinating to notice those writings that slide
superimposed on those pictures extrapolated from goodness knows where,
perhaps from the artist’s digital gallery, but still I don’t
understand. – Could it be because of the jumped punctuation or the
images not inherent to the words that at that moment come on?
Joe: No! – It’s Flash!
Grace: A moment is past…in an instant I’ve had the intuition of what
the flare just received wanted to transmit…but that’s already gone.
Joe: The hot mushroom is the atomic bomb. It’s the same mushroom you
see in the picture over the television set, where there was the plant
of life. – While watering the air must have been ionized and captured
it. A face from the benches of Parliament came out, wrapped as if it
were in a water bubble, while the entire remaining scene became red.
Grace: That picture that looks like a church is the Parliament?
Joe: Exactly! The parliamentarian in the circle will want to make The
Artist know that he is aware of the picture and of the cause of its
birth; a flash of blue powder, sprayed, even cleverly if we want
because it avoided other strange spying phenomena that every work of
the artist gushes, for cultural-economic causes and effects to which
these original works give birth.
Grace: Original?
Joe: Most certainly! - Even if churches and important constructions of
the time look similar, that doesn’t influence the judgment of the mere
value of originality in the execution of a work. - In this case
original is the point of view; moreover, religions and various
political parties are phenomena caused by an angle-shot of thought,
philosophies in competitions between each other in the search for
truth.
Grace: The informers are jumping overbearingly on the scene as
elements capable of removing every sweetness; they are taking the piss
with no care for those who work passionately…
Joe: That’s true! – Spiritualists’ fault; they introduce individuals
that are into voodoo speculation, constantly in the front line in
order to manoeuvre engagements that yield interests, profiting from
the religious soul that manages society, good or devilish that be.
Business in a word. That’s the way of faith, always crawling, more and
more, while we have a greater need to know matter in order to conquer
it. – Then the Internet connections open up to the adventurers of our
time, often navigated hackers, incredible horizons, which mix even
more sacred and profane.
Grace: It is evident that voodoo is to spiritual mafia what crime is
to mundane mafia.
Joe: Thanks to the dizzy spirituality that can generate any wanted
rumour, there’s no evidence of material guilt that could incriminate
the mafia, which goes unpunished. We are therefore at the talks that
make this unresolved epoch guilty. Let’s leave priests and politicians
to their job, and let’s go on believing in a society that thanks to
the common sense of its citizens can make reality more transparent.
Grace: Therefore the air in that part of the screen is ionized taking
advantage of its own magnetic fields and the image is lit, creating a
small circle around a part of it and this sketch is already present on
the Internet too - titled "Paruketty Bambule'" borrowed from the
design newsgroups. - Last consideration-confusion: can the drop make
us fear that a water squirt jumped from the vase had invaded a diode
valve?
Joe: Good! – I was thinking that the drop was the cause too, and about
the breakage of the TV, definitely proved, that they had created the
misunderstanding you are referring to.
Grace: Why The Artist, noticing the colours getting reddish and the
appearance of the little circle, especially when the thing is going to
stabilize again, has a stalling gesture as he was looking for
continuity of red? Maybe to keep the joke in a Halloween key? –
Imagine the MPs, if they didn’t go faster and faster, and behold the
entire figure in full screen becomes the sinuous shape of a woman seen
in section, until the TV is taken and thrown away: liberation!
Joe: It has melted! – Is it ever possible to stay all day long with
the television on watching the programme The Parliament?
Grace: Absolute folly, but still he had to complete the canvass.
Joe: For months they didn’t frame the portion of the environment he
was interested in, except the rare moments he wasn’t looking, and
let’s skip on the easy joke “basically all the time”: he couldn’t
possibly be 24 hours staring at the screen… – But, during those hours
with the TV switched on, one hundred times he put his eyes on it for a
short moment and for at least half an hour a day followed the most
acclaimed debate. – Comprende
Grace: Then he’s not a hothead, he’s a joke.
Joe: Cartoon! – With certainty we can affirm that he studied politics
in England.
Grace: Monarchic… and what’s about the stars that go forwards? – They
surely are not the American flag…there are no stripes.
Joe: He is the star that goes towards the transparent pot of the Tree
of Life to water the plant given to him as a pawn by the director of
the “London banquet”. – That same water that gives life after the
Hiroshima bomb washing away the atomic dust, as you can appreciate in
the final scene of the old lady who comes down the hill under the
umbrella in the Kurosawa’s masterpiece.
Grace: But that was beautiful! It was hope for a less hot future. Of
security under the atomic umbrella.
Joe: The metallic work of the fresh leaves make him think about the
Isotta Fraschini.
Grace: Boom! - Boring!
Joe: Well… It’s the critical interpretation of the artist proposed by
Maretutt8. Imagine if he doesn’t go straight to the Isotta, with these
leaves or bushes.
Grace: How is it that I didn’t notice any of it at first and now,
watching again the video, they look obvious?
Joe: That’s because you are analytic in your scientific rigour; you
lack imagination, especially in a vision of many artistic creations. –
It’s admirable to observe that you are not getting bored and that’s
because of the flash that you can’t grasp, but at least you sense it
exists, hoping you work for it to be respected.
Grace: I guess the last image from Switzerland, regarding the
construction of the ionizing rotor able to cure every illness without
cutting surgically, deals definitely with the Comprende.
Joe: But the “ Comprende “ isn’t a medical thing…
Grace: Health first!
Joe: Relatively to the medical cure of the moment, yes, but this is
not the strength of the Comprende but of the Reason of Repentance,
work written ten years earlier even though published only last year.
Actually we lost ten years of health, of human lives that would still
be with us if the project had gone fast at that time.
Grace: Ladies and gentlemen, for a world “Beautiful, Intelligent &
Sweet”, here is the ionization of a cloud that doesn’t make … autumn!
Joe: Make up your mind: the cloud was there or it was air, or oil
mixed to the bubblegenic vapours as it could be read in the hat of the
chef, ethereal logo appeared also under the ceiling and manifested
identical to that of the picture on the night of the violinists.
Grace: And if the stain had appeared to fix the image he had in mind
to paint, but never did?
Joe: Uhm!
Grace: No, I’m definitely leaning towards the ionized air that gives
us the apparition of a constructed sensation as it was a set stage.
Joe: Presenting the air on the scene thanks to ionization? Brilliant
spectacular scientific paragraph!
Grace: And God?
Joe: He’s out of the game because he is an idiot.
Grace: This doesn’t mean that ten years earlier, on the church now
restored in its interiors, didn’t also appear a narrow trail similar
to the Gulf of Naples that ended with the moon on its tip, and then
the ionization wasn’t technologically advanced as it is now.
Joe: It existed already in His head!
Grace: The stadium is the ideal place for the public and pacific
experimentation of such technologies; as they say in P.zzale Teschio:
Three Wanks, St Pole and the world cup is won.
Joe: Well, they won it by betting on the three stripes of electric
wires from the painting called “Debris”, showing them clearly on their
shirts.
Grace: There’s an ancient project: insulate the football fields from
ionizers of balls and that’s why, in my opinion, we won the last world
cup, being that the essential condition advanced by a Britalian, who,
unfortunately for England, writes in Italian, being not English His
mother tongue. Otherwise those of Albion would have won the world cup.
Joe: That’s right! Win those that write the best composition – to play
is the work of the play-stations. The generals who move the strings in
the field exercise on the keyboard writing the essay of fashion or
strategy, as you prefer.
Grace: It is Wednesday and I ask myself if in your head there is any
trace of sexual desire, or do you want to go on with yesterday’s
arguments? The last thing I want is to get excited talking about
magnetic fields risking getting a hyperbolic energy bill. I’m going to
work. I’ll see you in the evening.
Joe: Today you said that wonderfully – the day is going to go like
ionized cabbage-head, i.e. excited, practically amplified in the pants
I would have added if it was later in the evening.
Grace: Boom!
Joe: The Artist proposed art as the highest creative peek and so, more
in straight line with God on Earth.
Grace: But like that it’s phallic, and we risk going back to paganism.
Joe: Are you still bewildered by the last sentence?
Grace: I know what you meant “It went in as a braid and positioned
itself flat”, that’s the way to put dung under the vegetables, so you
think yourself God on Earth because you are a cabbage-head.
Joe: Exactly! Step after step He joined the vertex and from there
projected himself at the centre and everything around him was in image
and shape of Our Lord. He, The Artist, first, born aesthetic purity in
the Eden of critics and after Him all the animated beings, from Eve to
the butterfly. So Creationism and not Evolution, process that wants
the monkey made man. Like: going up and up, everything is anchored to
the basic cell.
Grace: Then God is an idiot because he made a fool of himself through
the evolutionists, who score the point thanks to a God that determines
the Theory of the Best? At the end you go round and round and a better
is easily spotted, although a mile away from the starting point; and
this is also Evolutionism.
Joe: In Evolutionism, God puts Jesus Christ before Mohamed and that’s
enough, but that is still nothing if we consider that God creates many
stupid religions, until the terror of the spiritual compromise of
voodoo, to make of men returning to himself idiots in image and
likeness –but of whom?- I don’t belong to this merry-go-round – and
you?(?)
Grace: Yes! No! Reasoning in a technological key, it’s like you
demonstrated! So the ancient Assyrian – Babylonians do not descend
anymore from the monkey in the ballot with the Hindus for who was
first?
Joe: Let’s get over the racial and regional before and after, and
let’s try to put order in the contest of creation. I guarantee that
I’m looking for ways out of this situation, but I can’t find
alternatives and the worst seem actually the Jews, who are still
waiting for the Messiah for that evolution dear to them, which is from
the monkey to Mohammed to the Messiah, who would present himself after
Allah, even if he had been in the cue for longer. To make it short
ladies and gentlemen here is the Messiah, the Son of God or He in
person that shows Himself. To Him they ask for help against the Muslim
vice, but they will lose, because invoking help they turn to the
Christians, which in this chaos organized by them would be the only
aid, always able to offer rationality, being not so affected by
religious fanaticism.
Grace: But they will get it right because the Christians are always
more westerners and less religious than the bygone days, far from the
idea of the Crusades, anyway glad of not having around
fanatics like the Muslims and at the end the Jews will gain ground and
much, because they will affirm that the waiting for the Messiah in
them is antecedent and indispensable because nothing was pleasant of
what was coming down from the sky. Lastly the Muslims know well how to
square the points of view in religious matters. So this is a draw. We
can proceed on another key, that this becomes heavy in a flash.
Joe: And so, once more, the only one coming out beaten is God, unless
religions are defeated, then we can start to talk of real love between
nations and surely at that stage peace of Humanity will be reborn for
the people of the whole earth, creation systematically good, for
colours, races and flags, in a new dimension with a global character –
optimal!
Grace: I like that – spiritually speaking: take your trousers down!
Half an hour passed, the birds are back partying quietly after the
tempest, as they wrote in the past centuries.
Joe: Wednesday is almost gone, I beg you: don’t tell me in a few
months you are pregnant confounding the holes…
Grace: Here’s a condom for you, Sir.
Joe: At this point we could well think about the third hole!
Grace: What news! - Tongs are needed?
Joe: We are almost in the New Year – we are getting old – Let’s at
least demonstrate that we are still…valid! In the name of that holy
woman of your mother: TKTPTSS! – New year new life! Bless…
The day after at dinner
Grace: But what happened yesterday? – Who did you want to revive? Did
you, with the excuse of Christ is dead, put a devil’s horn up your SS?
– Never stopping, coming I don’t even remember how many times?
Joe: Why do you get confused and mix good and bad, forgetting that I
am not the zucchini seller of the cart next door?
Grace: It doesn’t count if you show you’re a man every Pope’s death!
Joe: As you can’t lock before the time an animal well on its way
mounting in the stable, similarly other colts are procreated, hoping
for a new thoroughbred champion to be born. – I can feel in the air
from the jealousies that you vibrate, what is going to come out.
Grace: What has this to do with jealousy?
Joe: You wish that the stallion alive inside me was locked in the
memory to have the chance to manage the situation from woman to
faggot, in whose clothes you will never see me as you know already,
inclined as you are towards yesterday, with your head in the drawer of
the bookshelf.
Grace: At least I learn something and I don’t TKTPTSS in vain.
Joe: Amen!
Grace: What a man you are! At home you are boss! – Ah, ah – It is
written in many texts and you can read it in our library: man is guide
since Adam and Eve, it’s good for hunting beasts, showing on necessity
the sign of power, or not?
Joe: If you want to put it as personal order for you, homely walls
included, please do!
Grace: God, what did I just say? – Let’s put it normally, it’s better.
Joe: And what would be normal? Mieow like cats looking for purring?
Grace: Getting horny every night until alienation, because like that
would be, as it has been, and now since the beginning that time is
passed, and then what would be normal? Boh…
Joe: Normal it's knowing easily the obvious. It’s not fearing that a
passing rat bites a little bird at the pond or a van runs over a
pigeon that crosses on the zebra stripes. In short, normal is not
living the stress for the project of a painting for a blue solarium
that manifests after a little while wayfarers that prefer green salad
to a blue one, testifying their involvement in strange circumstances,
of which they may feel the knowledge, but really are simply silly
fellows that act a side role, if not damned for their ignorance. Such
cause doesn’t stabilize in them the epilogue of the question, which is
to get the idea of the painting born in their mind and so present in
the waves of the celestial air. – Those that feel what is manifested
under the heavens are not all monks or nuns.
Grace: Yes, actually there are also the faggots that aspire to the
office skirt of a bank employee. That scene of the commuters waiting
at the bus stop, I never understood it… And don’t say: because the
little slut that is in you has panicked in that chilling episode of
the squashed pigeon, and this has been declared already. I would never
rise to this pigeon affair, exemplifying a moment nailed to the
ground, even if you are not the little bird that stays on his own,
pecking by the pond; and if it was Narcissus and Goldenmouth narrated
by animals?
Joe: It is petrifying for us onlookers to imagine Him sitting calm and
peaceful on the day of His birthday. In fact you can notice Him by the
pond, while He is going to move to join His daughter. – Birds are
pecking in the water, when a huge rat running fast bites the poor
sparrow and devours it. The knees bend and He is not able to walk
further, so sits again to get up a few minutes later and then in the
space of a year, remains Himself nailed, while a furious madman
punches Him because the stuffing laser film had to go on?
Grace: And, days after in the same park, a hawk appears that stops a
few yards from him and stares at him askance and since that time
starts the mouse hunting, which become giant, disappear in the span of
a month, thanks to the sparrow-hawks. But were they there..?
Joe: I knew that Narcissus had died admiring his own beauty. Lately on
a crazy blog, I’ve read that Narcissus ran himself through with a
sword, because Goldenmouth, the nymph rejected and in love with him,
who always followed him…
Grace: …Is it ever possible she could annoy him to that point? If you
hear and give importance to the stories of the greengrocer and of his
friends, of the Vicoletti Belledonne, it is fatale getting mixed up
about the legends.
Joe: All started on the highway Naples - Pompeii, the accelerator was
at top speed and luckily there weren’t other cars – after many miles
the pedal unblocked. Arrived to the destination Bella Star, she asked
Him insistently what was wrong: an odd pain to the elbow had just made
itself felt. From a Comprende analysis looked like a fetish
phenomenon, that at the time wasn’t there, when He joked with a
hairdresser friend of a friend, with exciting elbows, she…with the
elbows, as the bump…Maybe subcaptoactionem?
Grace: What has this to do with Narcissus and Goldenmouth?
Joe: We need to change subject and if you add that with a friend in
shirt had gone to the gallery of echo, on the water in the Woods…
Grace: Who? Narcissus or Goldenmouth accompanied by Sfarinata delle
Streghete?
Joe: What is this?
Grace; It must be embarrassing and difficult to explain what is felt
but it’s not understood, with the clarity of hindsight you have the
sensation of having always perceived it, because moved at the edges of
your own action.
Joe: The trill of novelty can ever rise to such height?
Grace: In some nutcase that pilots from the satellites? – Yes!
Joe: Diplomatically this story, to be loosened, needs to be mixed into
the cheats, otherwise it will become stranded for a high cause, that
anyway must be not accused, so much it seems, but it is not, because
it is Sirepope the point of social and cultural obligation, that we
have in endowment.- And some adverse ones, to oppose the political
development because a lotto spirituality, had to lock Him up in a
madhouse, and there He went, and He was close to go back there a
second time, always of His own initiative if this hasn’t happened,
because He wanted to demonstrate the spies in their own speculative
expression that dares the drawing on the skin, and how stupid these
are in laughing at what human intelligence can reach, when He will
reveal the riddle.
Grace: Especially those who know Him are aware of the facts and don’t
speak, because possessed by a disinformation arranged on purpose,
which defies the way with the excuse that the spies must be secured,
who know where the money is, matured from the ideas sold or
manipulated by those same in favour of those that speculated on the
situation. In conclusion, we can declare that in virtue of the scam of
which the State is accomplice and thanks to which His ex associate
obtains thanks to the ability of her brother, His friend and  her own
associate, a yield in their warehouse of a million pound in jerseys.
Joe: Diplomatic Comprende in the name of art!
Grace: In a way they had to make ends meet, for an arm sent in smoke.
Joe: What about The Artist that had three by-passes without any fault
whatsoever and with four floors that He climbed flying?
Grace: Politicians, when they mix the cards, they do it in the
interests of the State and when they fraud the citizens are not
conditioned by them, but… by public debt. Incredible but true: fraud
is not a crime, useful reason this for merchants not cheaters, but
rather profiteers of favourable circumstances when they earn, because
able of well speculating, in spite of lots of difficulties.
Joe: Like this we become third world dependant, where the utile goes
over the top and the risk is kept at a minimum.
Grace: In these moonshines, with what courage an artisan can work, if
not with the money of the state as guarantee of anything?
Joe: My father used to tell me that in the sixties, Naples was the
world leader in the small industry; production was everywhere,
everything and well. Ten years later started the sale of jobs by the
public administrators that managed the competitions of employment, and
who could afford the luxury of paying ten million liras, if not those
that already worked well?
Grace: In the laboratory we have a nurse that went through that
experience. He affirms that the artisan, still at the borders of
social security, without the security of a sure salary, was considered
almost stupid, given the chance, unique rather than rare of economic
tranquillity, month after month, forcefully had to employ himself.
Joe: And also here we must revise the Code and remake the social
productive tissue, because at the end of the day who doesn’t take
advance of the chances he has, is considered a good-for-nothing,
because of the actual ethics in commerce of value equal to zero.
Grace: If we really were a world of artists – and shame I am not – we
should save God.
Joe: There’s no use in worrying! Better investigate God’s death and
assist with interest at the
production of the new spiritual encounter and not, which is outlined
against the horizon for the procreation of drowsy enthusiasm that will
come afloat thanks to some new spiritual awakening that can already be
felt in the air.
Grace: Creationism and here we go to the origin for eternity and then
there will be time.
Joe: The trouble for us, if we don’t believe in an afterlife, is to
die a bit too much in this life, while presently to elongate the time
to a couple of centuries of life would be simply in line with our
science and nothing more!
Grace: Do you really believe that we lack only knowledge, at least
theoretical of how to make hair grow back and that’s it? Thanks to
genetic manipulation we will be able of moulding ourselves in the
shape and likeness of how we want to be physically, being hair the
obstacle most difficult to overcome for the bald?
Joe: Yes! Thanks to eutectonics we can make bones and flesh grow as we
like, and this is theoretically ascertained. Regarding the sebaceous
bulb, which is extinguished with the loss of the hair, we should find
out whether there is any trace of it in the RNA, not only in the
memory, but in the proteins still alive of the same group and such we
wish they are those of the hair, of a time now gone.
Grace: But we don’t know how and why from a liquid pool we come to a
physical-material association?
Joe: At least we know the principle to follow. Erotically speaking:
the nipple grows between the teeth.
Grace: Yes, but don’t bite!
Joe: I have the impression that for such scientific itinerary RNA and
relative hair research, was born the chaos of planetary dust artfully
assembled, that our hero shows in the video under the blows of the
wind drawn between the hairs. Then in your opinion like “prolonging of
age and manipulation of the physical structure” thanks to tricologic
natures announced, we get the negative answer of three airplanes, two
aimed at the towers and the third at the Pentagon where this last one
finds its way with the fuselage between the pillars, that is the hair.
Grace: Piloted by whom if not a power more and more worn out that
doesn’t want to die, which shows off all the scientific artifices
using them for wars, not caring about health?
Joe: Stop there! It’s useless to say that the artist had an insight
into the tricologic revelation, as declared to his daughter and the
social assistant, the protein whole RNA unveiled in its seventy
thousand billions of unique particulars, which were there or not in
the thinking of the time, little changes, because certain data was to
reach the knowledge of the mapping of the DNA, that then this would
hide that infinite swag(?) of protein numbers is another matter that
doesn’t touch of the basic intuition, plus one seventy one: swine.
Grace: In conclusion: the storm of the news on TV in those times
chewed news parallel to health; can you explain then why Saddam paid
for the nuts?
Joe: We have seen that the elderly, especially the wealthy ones, and
in the US there are many, don’t want to die and they show that in
their own way. Would be very interesting to know what they think about
the hair, last step of knowledge to get back the body. And if it were
the drugs like Lipobay that destroy the hearts with by-passes instead
of curing them, or the sharks that attacked the surfers of those
times, in an union man-beast in atypical response, because manipulated
in a condition of character that was wanted to be made conspicuous at
that moment, is of little importance, because there we are with the
two towers, in the same dimension of events at the borders of reality.
Or to be more precise, there where it is not given to know any science
for us common mortals. In this view, Saddam has got the worst, not
because the power older and older and wore out wants the oil to warm
up in winter or going promenading in the car without paying in the
spring-summer season, rather it pays to have risen to a too high tone,
and as it happened to the German catholic supermen, so it’s happening
to his people risen to the status of elected between the Muslims, who
already see themselves as the non plus ultra. Easily we read the
epilogue of the story, because science doesn’t accept those who are
superior to itself, if not in democracy, otherwise bad things can
happen to peoples under dictatorship. Today Hussein, days from the
gallows pole, talks of sacrifice, suffered by the man risen to power
able to have laser to guide the planes against the two towers, as he
would have make us believe, attack on the Pentagon as well, and in
this way he gives trouble, distracting third parties and capitals from
research on health, ruining budgets and scientific arguments, that
pollute the plans for the the time in matter of security, that is
feeding war that devours capitals. We don’t need Saddam to get the
oil, we prefer to pay, get wealthy and live of commercial exchanges
and moreover we don’t want to waste huge sums for wars, distracting
capitals from public health!
Grace: In fact Saddam and his wish of becoming a Muslim hero have
ruined the State wealth for his own pride?
Joe: The fantasy of pride or vice versa is of the artist, not of the
dictator, so as can be of a king or of the pope, but never of a
statesman, to whom is asked optimal administrative rigour.
Grace: Last winter a whale entered the Thames, in the same day the
teapot didn’t show signs of lime scale, which would smithereens under
the fingers. Earth is overheating and the whale came to cook in the
broth of the Thames? To Him, dear to us, to whom we turn our attention
in these arguments, regarding the video for example, which is not
understood in the opinion of some, but is revealing itself, in virtue
of a Project Life Dimension able to oxygenate sufficiently even the
waters of the Thames, otherwise the whale wouldn’t have entered, and
such mammals are used to purity of water, to oceans. It’s been
prospected on the internet, years ago, that it is possible to
oxygenate the blood five hundred times more, would be sufficient much
less to free the arteries occluded by cholesterol, encapsulating the
same veins in a sort of ionized or prophylactic magnetron, given that
the last that we had in the house for months has been used for another
goal, as a non magn…etron.
Joe: Are you thinking about eating? Do you really think it is possible
to oxygen the Tiber?
Grace: I prefer to avoid comments on this one – I would need samples
of water.
Joe: The whale was really there, didn’t they all see it? It has been
felt in the weight of the nets, when they lifted it up with the
capstan on the boat and then exposed high in the pictures on the first
pages, under London bridge, where is the very dark London dungeon? And
the WWF?
Grace: Green Peace? The UN? In that period everything happened.
Somebody came to the laboratory for the analysis, which, even if he
was The Artist or somebody else, that’s it, because today is just
about people that to have a tone, take His attitude, with what He
publishes daily on Itechnodemocratic, where they don’t have the
pretence to be God, but men who don’t want to go to the creator,
because material-visual artists, not airy but spiritual. And if at the
end they should win even this moment and we would go back to pure
spirituality – here we are! – He had one side of the face frozen,
since a couple of years. The dentist finally discovered an infection
in the upper part of the root of the tooth and visit after weekly
visit, for a couple of months of digging, of antibiotics and other
cures, until the poster of the smiling monkey with a syringe on the
wall, while the horse runs frisked by Nandrolone, at a certain point
after  a dozen visits during all winter, He finds Himself with white
teeth and the body broken in various parts, for the antibacterial
reactions He had been administrated, and in that occasion a tooth grew
oversized in his fifties as he was taking the piss out of the poem:
Big Teeth
Lipstick
red falling words
expressive roof chesty
plaster eye
face-centred
girl in the square
climbing board
step by step sitting
singing aria
passion play station
I perceive millions
accordingly gossips
attending warm
tizzy mouth
This is His only poem in English, who knows what His Albion supporters
have come out with, He has plenty for sure. It was at the time of the
dentist, in full creationist fervour and while going to the doctor a
worm took the attitude of a cobra in defence of evolutionism, showing
its chelae and standing up on the tail. The monkey laughs for fear of
the puncture, at the time of horses crazy for the drugs; it was the
syringe that made the monkey pass, or the Rota... While in Goa, the
enchanting Hindu plays his flute and to the call answers the snake.
Joe: Extragalactica56 was the title of a canvass and the poem, you
guess, was number fifty six.
Grace: Comprende! Je suis poliglotten.
Joe: Do you understand the language of all snakes?
Grace: And of fishes?
Joe: It was only a tooth, not even poisonous!
Grace: Then not even toxic!
Joe: Only an instant separates us from revelation of physical
existence, we are waiting at any moment the intuition that solves
everything, difficult situation of scientific light that can
illuminate the face of the sufferers, in a minute, in a day, a
century, eternity, at the ending of the end when all will be known, we
will be back to God, who guarantees the mystery against boredom and
there will be no more space for euthanasia.
Grace: Do you think people are upset for the ineptitude of the
administration of public health and ask for euthanasia?
Joe: There is a school of thought that moulds the physic will in
dependence to reason. If you think there will be nothing to do about
an illness, you take it on your shoulders because you titillate those
proteins, putting in motion those mechanisms that feed those causes,
until the deleterious effect you fear. I don’t think so!
Grace: What do you mean, you don’t accept that it is possible a
physical empathy with thought?
Joe: It is will that has the role of the master in this discussion. If
I don’t mean to move the essence of which I am speaking, my brain
already knows where it is concerned or not, of consequence the
antibodies, at the idea of euthanasia, do not move at all, because
they know, because it is memorized, that it is the idea of life I’m
after.
Grace: At this point it is necessary to psychoanalyze all the
personnel in the hospitals, so to put a ban on euthanasia?
Joe: How do you know that those that advocate euthanasia are not paid
– perhaps for the chatting we need to fill up our newspapers and
justify our wars?
Grace: If we waste time in scientific research that saves us, fatally
it will result in a climate of general perennial euthanasia. It’s
useless that you make such questions to me- rather go tell the priest!
Joe: Shall I also ask him to give word?
Grace; Put your head here in the middle – it is time to wash your
tongue! At the ending of the end it is the natural recipe that
quenches your thirst.
Joe: The contemporary technological Nature gives back to God what Eden
gave us, as an apocalyptical sign, out of the idea of death, to which
we have been condemned by the poisoned apple of sex.
Grace: Drink, do not eat!
Joe: In the blood we have all we need to transform the liquid
spermaflex in apple juice or cider?
Grace: Blood? Who are you Nosferatu’s menstrual nephew?
Joe: One more attack I launch brave! Unharmed I wait the washing of
the pill of the day after. I heard once the free range peasant, who
delivers garlic and onions to our greengrocer, say in confidence that
he wanted to get married to get free fornication.
Grace: Are you phrasing oddly to get an erotic tone?
Joe: Did you make Nosferatu come out of the magical hat, in the shape
of the thought of that man that appeared suddenly on the street, such
as asking himself if he really existed or was hidden in a van of spies
parked not far, or was maybe, just a passing doppelganger? Like:
talking about the devil the horns appear and given the advanced
technology, the thought is enough.
Grace: Walking on the horizon, a black spot appeared at dusk under the
arm; Nosferatu uncovered the grave and went walking with his coffin.
Polifemus was a scenery, just one eye and the heart-mouth, which was
found copied in the hospital; they stated it was a parliamentary
mouth, or gymnast that there had turned, maybe in a plane flown from
the sun, attracted by the boatswain trough the clouds.
Joe: This is your statement, not the video? Did I miss something even
if I’ve seen it half a dozen times? Did you forget the logo of the
energy with three spheres, plus one, central, which forms the group as
it was a propeller, from the ancient of Aeolian pale project to build
in the sea, with that stemma appeared on the arm, who knows from which
economic potency, drawn on the skin as a mark seal of their own power,
with no respect to others’ health? Incredible strength is needed to
lift Polifemus’ stone and thinking that some time ago and for several
years He couldn’t lift up His arms, both, if not at the roman hail or
nearly, on penalty of strong pain at the limbs.
Grace: Is it SirePope the highest known point?
Joe; Not achievable not even by itself? This is god’s jealousy that
leaves such cult groups, which feed the incognita, pass along.
Grace: Men project temples and God preserves them, in a sea of
posthumous chatter.
Joe; A new cult was born that speculates on the erasure, retaining the
writing as divine work, absorbs anything. If I ponder on that I think
such a film exists already, work of the Hindus, the first
evolutionistic mistake, who make of everything a temple. Actually yes,
shortly we will have only the Vatican, the Mecca, The Temple of
Krishna and of Buddha, and stop the confusion of temples and templish,
churches and churchish and finally we shall visit the archbishop of
Canterbury in saint Paul, without worrying of changing to
Protestantism.
Grace: Once seen the film you learn to build watching another picture,
let’s add without fear, because as assembling a discourse built in the
air, the puzzle teaches: the work always comes out, except if you
loose pieces, but with care and perseverance usually you can see the
fulfilment of the composition. One square missing, doesn’t nullify the
many for the collection, actually it helps the intuition, when there
is so much material available. The “more”, the “buts”, the “hows”, the
“ifs” and the “I think so”, add to each other at will and easily guide
us to the terminus of our interests.
Joe: Analytical as you are, you arid the artistic argument, and
moreover you risk of repeating yourself, going in the gallery more
than twice.
Grace: Arid from to arid, verb of the first conjugation? To give back
or to laugh, because of the payment post dated ever more fluctuating?
Move forward and be in peace, healthily, respectable, without drying
up the desert of the Tartars, bombing Mamozi of the Buddha, in secular
stone. The important thing is to have melt the Master, for the rest it
is a “pour parler” good for recollecting the nice joy of the first
time, when getting to the end attempting an action of cyclopean
proportion to be dealt with at all costs, for cultural enrichment and
satisfaction of the curiosity concealed into the monastery of hermitic
thoughts, among the scissors steps of the giant.
Joe: Wasted energies! How many exceptional truths have been formulated
by thinkers that didn’t leave signs of themselves?
Grace: In your way of thinking, we have been wasting time, for the
dispersion of human data that would have advanced the program.
Joe: Actually yes, and then we discover that we entered a new
dimension since the Millennium. Thinking that only since the beginning
of the industrial era time has started to be considered an economic
good in virtue of the money that costs, of course producing loads of
interests, thanks to which the bank effectively has grabbed all the
money and paying at the level of the state what the bank lends,
enormous public debt has been created from which will be impossible to
get out.
Grace And then time, become a material good, is subjected to
speculations by those that have the most precise clock – Cuckoo!
Joe: The little bird comes at night; we are nearly at the epiphany
that gets into the house with broken shoes, with a sock filled with
titbits and many presents to leave on every child’s bedside table.
Grace: Did you jump the New Year? Wishes my dear! What do you expect
from 2007?
Joe: Nullification of the value of money, to start again in search of
wealth. Liberation from the anxiety of illnesses. Exceptional
investments in the field of research for the prolongation of life and
in every other sector, such as big projects, such as The bridge on the
Straight of Messina and Naples world capital for tourism with a new
city moved towards the Irpinian mountains, moreover fortify Venice
against High water or shallow that corrodes anyway during the
centuries etc. etc. for the peninsula. Investing immediately is my
exhortation wherever there is a valid project. The state shall take on
these expenses coolly because bankruptcy would be declared in any
case, we must just decide when. The public debt will be impossible to
pay, at least proceeding in the public works we will find back a
territory that is worth something, because well organized and in such
way it will be easier to start aging, assuming a new value, finally
free from debt.
Grace: New money for a new cycle of living that you prospect alluring,
renewed enthusiasms at the opening of a new market exempt from taxes a
priori, for the coverage of a debt, from the usufructs of the sum of
starting, never seen before. We don’t know where to go to push to make
the accounting even and if these few, actual magnates of the economy,
have employed sixty one years, in other words from the post war era
till today, to find the money all in the same banks that they manage
themselves, the next game, how long will take before it will be
declared off limits to those that are outside the table?
Joe: If they go on suggesting the end in preconscious or subconscious
whatever, because the mixed into the waves must forcibly wear the
clothes of cultural giants, then there will be less competitive
development, because people will get upset earlier and for the leaders
will be obvious to take all.
Grace: And if it was unconscious instead than conscious?
Joe: That would mean not thinking about it at all and finding
ourselves laureate in what those who move the strings want us to
declare.
Grace: “…”
Joe: Are you closing like a hedgehog? Ohi, ohi! Who knows if they have
garlic and onions and free range hens with a strong taste?
Grace: “…”
Joe: Free from competition one day we will not have to invent
surviving and in this way maybe we will avoid the production of public
debt, in a world of cared for.
Grace: Of artists that want to save God…please!
Joe: At the ending of the end when everything will be known we will go
back to God guarantee of creative mystery against boredom, the same
one that makes us repeat at the ending of the end. We feel fine here
and to those who are not happy we suggest moving a bit aside, not to
short the time from here to when will be surpass the superior thought
of my nephew Methuselah.
The End
Written between 2004/2006//
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 Is it the new release of -gone with the wind- or what?!
Jeez, the master troll is back.
Ciao,
Enrico il Pentolaio.
-- 
I chitarristi passano metà della propria vita ad accordare la chitarra e 
l'altra metà a suonarla scordata.