The antidote

Even though I’ve got no talent at all to play any note (I don’t even dare singing in the shower), I have an obsession with putting soundtrack to the moments of my life.

The seasons, weather, time of day, the place where I am and of course my mood mark the soundtrack of the moment I’m living. This causes, sometimes, some humorous comments of my partner about my peculiar logic in choosing the music in question.

– You’re not going to put jazz today!

– And why not? Since when you do not like Bob Acri?

– Since it’s a summer Saturday morning and now is not the time …

The point is that, as I said in my last post, the rain and the cold start to undermine my humor. So, lately, I’ve allowed a small missteps in choosing music while I work to dive into the music file in my mind as “warm sunset while on holiday.”

The Italian tarantelas are a good example of the kind of music that reminds me of heat, carefree walks, the yellow light of the midday sun and the ubiquitous chirping of cicadas. This popular music was created in southern Italy in the nineteenth century and they believed that the one who danced it could be cured of a tarantula’s bite.

I don’t think the chances of a tarantula bitting me at the office are very large, but in any case, it is an antidote to despair. I leave a piece of L’Arperggiata that I particularly like.

Living in false

You’ll see, in the last few days I’ve noticed that the false is present in almost every area of our lives. I do not mean the top blanket with the more or less counterfeit Louis Vuitton collected (that we have almost internalized ). I mean, in some way, we have all created a world full of perverse fictions, which not even my evil side could imagine.

I read in the press a few days ago, when the conclave to elect a new pope started , slipped inside the Vatican a “false bishop” who was discovered for wearing a strange crucifix and his robe too short (I wonder if he acquired his dress in a common costume shop ). Today it is published a Canadian study that argues that Maria Teresa of Calcutta was not as “holy” as painted, by his suspicious way to manage the huge amount of money she received in donations and questionable care that gave to the sick people.

The royal houses are not spared: they have stories of lies, jealousy, betrayals, murders and crimes varied as to write a tv serial.

Billings B, unofficial fees, long money to tax havens, espionage between political, social causes… are only a cover to enrich the already rich … all this is the daily bread of the national news.

In the food industry there are also deceptions because some believe that selling meat fromo romanian starving horses like if it was from a Swiss cow, is not so bad …

Perhaps it’s the rain that makes me go sad and pesimism, but you know, finally, living among such falsehood goes on dynamiting the principles and altruistic world picture Ilearned as a child.