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I'm with those who occupy

finally say!

Finally, a whole generation publicly expresses his discomfort.

I'm with them. I'm with the boys occupying the right, occupying the monuments symbolically offering the most authentic interpretation of the motivations that led them to protest.

I'm with them and smile, because I feel this may be the dawn of a new day.

been years since the generation of the twenties did not raise his voice.

I was almost afraid that he was asleep and anesthetized by this neglect, this decline in social and civil life that characterizes our times.

I wanted to be with them more directly (and perhaps I will) because I still live in me battles the student of my time: the occupations, the meetings of coordination with other school representatives to say no to assimilation, public-private school, to say no to reform Jervolino, demonstrations on the streets with marches and sit-in protest, the alternative courses music, theater and psychology in institutions occupied for tens of days, "visits" to the police station, a breakfast with digos, cans and sheets for the banners ...

I shudder just to think back to the activism of those times.

's why I'm with them, because they have awakened in me an instinct reaction to the immorality and injustice that seemed dormant or attenuated.

Come on guys! I am with you!

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Memories at thirty and a half after the earthquake

Every historical event, catastrophic, revolutionary, important to remember if you lived alone with his own eyes. Or rather, you remember more or less detailed than what you were doing in those moments. And so for me, for example, is linked to a Sept. 11 afternoon of studies on the sofa at home gone bad, as I was hypnotized before Rainews24 and its direct.

But I was already 25 years and the memory is definitely more lively and bright in me.

separate issue is the 80 earthquake.

I had just 4 years and also strive to come to mind only flash episodes and situations, characters and feelings that I have not the certainty and full cognizance.

was in the evening ... we had not yet begun to eat.

was living in rent at Via Cappello and were home that evening my dear grandparents (sigh!).

I was in my room with my sister to listen to the disc once diecimilionesima "The Rescuers" with the legendary mangiadischi red.

We were sitting on the floor, I'm almost sure, with my sister, who followed with the finger on the book the story comes from that thing awesome.

My parents were in the kitchen chatting gaily.

D'un tratto trema tutto, io mollo tutto e corro in cucina urlando impaurito.

Ci abbracciammo tutti.

Fu la prima reazione istintiva. Una famiglia abbracciata per proteggersi.

La luce andava e veniva e poi sparì lasciandoci al buio più assoluto.

Io continuavo a chiedere ossessivamente cosa fosse quel rumore, quel boato.

Mio nonno mi diceva che proveniva dalla strada: "sono dei grossi camion che passan di qui sotto", mi diceva. Io immaginavo file di carri armati o camion giganteschi ma non potevo vederli.

Poi la corsa nelle scale. Ricordo vicini di casa in lacrime, urla frightened on the landings, stairs four at a time made her up to my father. So afraid.

Then the night in the street and the bitter feeling of not having fully understood the scope of the disaster.

This is what my mind remembers ... in fact few details were added later, perhaps because we've always wanted to remove that sad experience is not talking anymore.

From there began a pilgrimage is in fact infinite and a condition of instability that may have borne fruit in many years away.

evacuated, housed in the hotel 6 months (mythical Hotel De Nicola).

Then in rent for the desperation and the fatigue of living a life of displaced persons.

Then for two years in the prefabs: bronchial asthma for allergy to grass, the inconvenience of the periphery, the sacrifices to buy a home waiting for a council house living in 40 square meters of sheet metal ...

I suffered and experienced the drama developing on my skin, for example, a sensitivity to earthquakes: if the night, even after many years, there was a shake of the 4-5th grade scale Mercalli I jolted out of bed, my heart in my chest was beating a thousand in the morning and I was always the first to tell of earthquake felt.

Up today: still, after all, I'm terrified to earthquakes.

have passed 30 years and certainly without the earthquake, my life today would not be the same.

A special thought goes to those who no longer there, but especially those who are still crying and people, things, destroyed homes and broken lives.

embrace virtually all, a bit like we did that night in the kitchen of Via Cappello.

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End

I often mentally and physically twist on matters of principle.

Limit, vice or virtue? It is not for me to say.

is certain is that I learned to always say what they think freely, without fear or psychological subjection to be denigrated, ridiculed or isolated to my ideas.

Step harder but I'm working on is to follow the actions to ideas but that's not the point of this discussion.

The hardest myths to dispel, that against which most often clash is without doubt "the end justifies the means." It 'a statement which I abhor as they are convinced that even if the goal is very noble and very prestigious accounts as the means by which it wins.

And that is because I firmly believe that reaching a goal through questionable means or paths are not immune from criticism and perfectible ports, at best a fleeting victory.

If you do not fight la battaglia con coerenza (nei fatti oltre che nelle parole) e con armi lecite e indiscutibili, nell'ipotesi più ottimistica si raggiungerà un vittoria che ci porterà in un punto di equilibrio instabile.

Uno stato di instabilità per il quale le ferite occorse (curate, cicatrizzate o meno) durante la battaglia costituiranno certamente elementi destabilizzanti, granelli di sabbia tra gli ingranaggi della macchina in questo stato di equilibrio in grado di incepparla nuovamente e farla ripiombare in un nuovo stato di squilibrio persino peggiore dello stato di partenza.

E' per questo che son sempre più convinto che il mezzo conti e che conti forse più del fine stesso.

Anything but.

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The Bench / 2

At this place needs a dusting ... I find less and less time to update, think and take care of my blog but this post is lying in my drawer for too long and now it is time to publish . Now, readers of my imaginary diary, do not expect anything from that post, no revelation, no polemical tone or justification for my absence ... it's just a post to return to speak of my world view on this digital space.

THE BENCH Part 2

Michael: Hey France ... tuttappò? What are we doing tonight?

Francis : Micha ... you want to do? There is nothing to do! As always!

Michael: Why? We can not get together with others and play in your cellar?

Francis : no Michi ... the last time that pesantone the third floor called the police ... could not sleep ... at ten!

Michael: Ugh, so what? Let's Altamura? Or a bowling Metaponto?

Francis: Let's see what others are saying ... but I do not think you have the car tonight?

Michele: No, not my father ... I did not leave the ... Last month I took off the points with balloon es'è angry.

Francis: and scooters?

Michael: Mine is without lights, that of Mark is the mechanic, it is turning into a bomb France! If you feel the mess that is the pot ... when you realize it comes from 5 km.

Francis : Freaky ... and if you stop him?

Michele: I do not stop ... what if they run away ... which has the license plate you do not read ... and if you stop calling her uncle, do you rip a fine and give back the scooter and mo ... damn it to Mark .

Francis : Oh well .. even if it still do not have no money for gas ... we stay here?

Michele : E vabbù .. but where do we go?

Francis: In the middle of the course there tonight?

Michele : The rub! Like last night! In fact, I tell you a secret: there will be tomorrow night.

Francis: I did not know I had a crystal ball! And the Stones?

Michele: I heard that tonight organize a guided tour of the most beautiful open-air car park of Italy.

Francis: Ah ah ah!

brothel that there ...

Michele: And then?

Francis : How do I know ... we go to the park above the old cemetery.

Michele: Oh ... again ... that pizza.

Francis: What are you doing? At least we are assured, does not see anyone and we spend the evening.

Michael: But I do not even break ... a woman ... But at least we buy something?

Francis. And mo ... let's see ... we put a euro each and we buy a bottle from discounters.

Michele : Vabbù, you have to say ... I call Angioletto e gli faccio portare un po’ di fumo?

Francesco : Dobbiamo mettere un altro euro a testa quindi?

Michele : Si dai. Anzi…due patatine non le vogliamo comprare?

Francesco : Oh…mo non esageriamo…io so’ figlio di cassintegrato…

Michele : E mica ti ho detto 100 euro!?!?

Francesco : Vabbù…è andata. Avvisa gli altri! E mangia a casa, così ti fai il “tappo”.

Michele : Ma pensa a te…io lo reggo l’alcool!

Francesco : Yes ... they are the benches and swings that can not stand you!

Michele: Why do you instead? Last time a lamppost and a bench have split!

Francis : Who me? I do not remember ...

Michael: And I know you do not remember ... you do not even remember that you threw up the impossible ...

Francesco: Indeed ... I do not remember anything ... I just remember the circle to the head that I came the next morning.

Michele : ah ah ah ... later in cod.

Boredom, disinterest el'inciviltà feed with the inaction and lack of space and social aggregation. Our children, our children, live and move in an environment that allows them to express and cultivate their passions. Cut out so their spaces of freedom and a vent vitality and repressed aggression against themselves and against things.

A good municipal government should take to heart the needs of "men of tomorrow."

should strive to prevent deviant behavior and not only pursue and prosecute those elusive artists.

A city

"flat" is a decadent city.

In a decadent town ignorance and crime proliferate. Would take very little to remedy this: a community center, a youth festival of live music, good management of public spaces, a public awareness campaign.

But attention should also be fanatical in repairing the devastation in the care of urban and custody of public property for not imply that the disorder and degradation are in principle permissible.

not me talking, but they say international sociological studies (Eg. Broken Window Theory - James Q. Wilson and George Kelling - 1982).

not enough to rant and forbidding. Unless you just want to make propaganda.

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18_12_2010 10_09_10 .... Masiere MASTERS FINAL ROUND ROCK?

... waiting for the final party

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FINAL STANDINGS ... or wait for the beers?