<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377</id><updated>2011-04-22T01:59:40.687+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Un piccolo posto speciale...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>256</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5499891697655099009</id><published>2008-10-09T14:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T14:59:40.918+02:00</updated><title type='text'>La rabbia cresce di giorno in giorno</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Ab4g2yExfo&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Ab4g2yExfo&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5499891697655099009?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5499891697655099009/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5499891697655099009' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5499891697655099009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5499891697655099009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/10/la-rabbia-cresce-di-giorno-in-giorno.html' title='La rabbia cresce di giorno in giorno'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4941884415388793185</id><published>2008-08-15T15:43:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T15:43:26.267+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mediatare</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bdPr0Or0OM0&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bdPr0Or0OM0&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4941884415388793185?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4941884415388793185/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4941884415388793185' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4941884415388793185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4941884415388793185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/08/mediatare.html' title='Mediatare'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7199381870833677321</id><published>2008-08-05T07:49:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T08:26:22.925+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm gonna burn obne down...</title><content type='html'>Il messaggio è semplice. Se non ti piace la mia energia, se sei geloso del mio fuoco. Stammi lontano, perchè oggi ne brucerò uno e se tanto mi dà tanto...dovresti essere tu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7199381870833677321?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7199381870833677321/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7199381870833677321' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7199381870833677321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7199381870833677321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-gonna-burn-obne-down.html' title='I&apos;m gonna burn obne down...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1363370423346169585</id><published>2008-08-04T16:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T16:29:23.101+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Love, love is a verb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Love is a doing word&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Gentle impulsion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Shakes me makes me lighter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Teardrop on the fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Nine night of matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Black flowers blossom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Black flowers blossom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Teardrop on the fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Water is my eye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Most faithful mirror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Teardrop on the fire of a confession&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Most faithful mirror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Teardrop on the fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Fearless on my breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Stumbling a little&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Stumbling a little&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1363370423346169585?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1363370423346169585/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1363370423346169585' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1363370423346169585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1363370423346169585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/08/mah.html' title='Mah'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-71076912740528806</id><published>2008-07-22T09:54:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T11:36:17.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Torno a perderti</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Attraverso il piazzale. Il pensiero fisso su quel punto. Le cicale sono l'unico segno di vita, continuo il loro sfregare mi accompagna al di là del piccolo spazio che mi divide dalla macchina. Tolgo l'antifurto con un gesto automatico, apro la porta e scivolo dentro. L'ultimo a uscire dall'ufficio come succede ormai da tempo. La bimba parte al primo colpo ed il suo vibrare mi rilassa. Indosso gli occhiali da sole, poso portafogli e telefonino sul sedile del passeggero. Anche lì nessuno.&lt;br /&gt;Esco dal parcheggio dopo aver aperto il cancello, mi lascio alle spalle una giornata lunga e calda. Il braccio fuori dal finestrino, il vento mi accarezza, i pensieri come miele si accodano nel cervello. Accelero, forse mi aiuterà a dimenticare. Il suo volto pian piano perde i colori, i lineamenti. Il sorriso si trasforma in una fessura. Si allontana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felice abbandono la provincia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-71076912740528806?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/71076912740528806/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=71076912740528806' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/71076912740528806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/71076912740528806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/07/torno-perderti.html' title='Torno a perderti'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8404574094529764229</id><published>2008-07-13T18:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T18:02:28.119+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Anche così può andare no?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Living easy, living free&lt;br /&gt;Season ticket on a one-way ride&lt;br /&gt;Asking nothing, leave me be&lt;br /&gt;Taking everything in my stride&lt;br /&gt;Don't need reason, don't need rhyme&lt;br /&gt;Ain't nothing I would rather do&lt;br /&gt;Going down, party time&lt;br /&gt;My friends are gonna be there too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the highway to hell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No stop signs, speed limit&lt;br /&gt;Nobody's gonna slow me down&lt;br /&gt;Like a wheel, gonna spin it&lt;br /&gt;Nobody's gonna mess me round&lt;br /&gt;Hey Satan, payed my dues&lt;br /&gt;Playing in a rocking band&lt;br /&gt;Hey Momma, look at me&lt;br /&gt;I'm on my way to the promised land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the highway to hell&lt;br /&gt;(Don't stop me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm going down, all the way down&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the highway to hell &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8404574094529764229?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8404574094529764229/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8404574094529764229' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8404574094529764229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8404574094529764229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/07/anche-cos-pu-andare-no.html' title='Anche così può andare no?'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3061197144181711106</id><published>2008-07-06T12:48:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T12:48:34.870+02:00</updated><title type='text'>L'angolo della poesia</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/b5CLCQBitBE&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/b5CLCQBitBE&amp;hl=it&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3061197144181711106?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3061197144181711106/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3061197144181711106' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3061197144181711106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3061197144181711106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/07/langolo-della-poesia.html' title='L&apos;angolo della poesia'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-960637098685450625</id><published>2008-07-03T18:41:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T18:48:07.177+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Middle East andata e ritorno</title><content type='html'>Il caldo e' nuovamente insopportabile, il linguaggio incomprensibile, gli accenti introvabili. Cammino sul bordo del medio oriente, ad un matrimonio cristiano. Non capisco le sfumature, rimango intrappolato tra i due mondi. Perfetta la caduta, godo del momento di estremo funambolismo rialzandomi in volo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forse dovrei solo bere di meno. Gia'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-960637098685450625?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/960637098685450625/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=960637098685450625' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/960637098685450625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/960637098685450625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/07/middle-east-andata-e-ritorno.html' title='Middle East andata e ritorno'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8124584608244177500</id><published>2008-06-22T12:30:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T12:32:27.053+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Odore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tutto scoppia in un istante. Il suo odore fa scomparire ogni certezza. E' un attimo, siamo una cosa sola. Istinto, sudore, forse amore. Finisce in un crescendo. Si tatua nel cuore. Me ne ricorderò. Qui con me per sempre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8124584608244177500?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8124584608244177500/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8124584608244177500' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8124584608244177500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8124584608244177500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/06/odore.html' title='Odore'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1258526970498814384</id><published>2008-06-15T06:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T06:44:25.772+02:00</updated><title type='text'>dal Kazakistan col telefonino</title><content type='html'>Post veloce col cellulare da terre asiatiche. Qui da un caldo boia e i 48 gradi di ieri oltre a confermarlo mi hanno quasi ucciso.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voglio tornare a casa!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1258526970498814384?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1258526970498814384/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1258526970498814384' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1258526970498814384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1258526970498814384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/06/dal-kazakistan-col-telefonino.html' title='dal Kazakistan col telefonino'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4130455524155595835</id><published>2008-05-17T16:12:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T18:09:34.264+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gianno Bifronte</title><content type='html'>Casato, in una villa principesca. Oggi ha la possibilità di mostrarsi, sui teleschermi, come capo di un partito, che è difficile collocare nell’arco antifascista e perciò costituzionale. Ci troviamo di fronte a trame intessute segretamente, da chi ha mezzi e obbiettivi precisi, sono così venuti alla luce: "uomini di primo piano", "i mandanti", "i finanziatori" che senza scoprirsi, possono camuffare le loro trame, con tinte diverse da quella vera. Si vogliono cioè sovvertire le istituzioni democratiche della nostra repubblica. A questo fine si strumentalizzano i giovani, i meno responsabili. Approfittando dell'inesperienza, giovani, spesso ancora adolescenti, come avviene in ogni parte del mondo, quando si vogliono soffocare le aspirazioni di progresso, di giustizia e di democrazia dei popoli. Sembra che la storia si ripeta, e cioè che anche oggi, non si scavi in profondità, che non si affondi il bisturi risanatore fino alla radice del male.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its just one of those days &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When you don't wanna wake up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Everything is fucked&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Everybody sux&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You don't really know why&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But want justify&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rippin' someone's head off&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No human contact&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if you interact&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Your life is on contract&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's just one of those days!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its all about the he says she says bullshit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think you better quit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lettin' shit slip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its all about the he says she says bullshit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think you better quit talkin that shit(Punk, so come and get it)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its just one of those days&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Feelin' like a freight train&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;First one to complain&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Leaves with a blood stain&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Damn right I'm a maniac&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You better watch your back&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cuz I'm fuckin' up your program&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if your stuck up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You just lucked up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Next in line to get fucked up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Its just one of those days!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I feel like shit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My suggestion is to keep your distance &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cuz right now im dangerous&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We've all felt like shit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And been treated like shit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;All those motherfuckers that want to step up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope you know I pack a chain saw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll skin your ass raw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if my day keeps goin' this way &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just might break somethin' tonight...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope you know I pack a chain saw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll skin your ass raw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if my day keeps goin' this way &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just might break somethin' tonight...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope you know I pack a chain saw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll skin your ass raw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if my day keeps goin' this way &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just might break your fuckin' face tonight!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Give me somethin' to break&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How bout your fuckin' face&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope you know I pack a chain saw, what!!...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4130455524155595835?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4130455524155595835/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4130455524155595835' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4130455524155595835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4130455524155595835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/05/voci-di-piazza.html' title='Gianno Bifronte'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1265401167353415910</id><published>2008-05-11T08:42:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T08:50:32.162+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bucolicamente</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;L'ufficio è improvvisato. La scrivania una catasta di pallet. Ben canta da dentro L'ipod. Alle spalle la Norvegia&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;si sta ancora risvegliando nella sua domenica mattina. Tutto tranquillo, con i pensieri che non si affollano nella testa come al solito, batto il piede al ritmo che conosco. A volte vorrei che tutto si fermasse qui. Che tutto fosse sempre semplice. Che il ponte fosse sempre sotto ai miei piedi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know you may not want to see me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; On your way down from the clouds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Would you hear me if I told you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That my heart is with you now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She's only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She's only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Did you find what you were after?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The pain and the laughter brought you to your knees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But if the sun sets you free, sets you free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You'll be free indeed, Indeed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She's only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; She's only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Every time I hear you laughing, I hear you laughing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; It makes me cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Like the story of life, of your life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Is hello, goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Shes only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Shes only happy in the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1265401167353415910?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1265401167353415910/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1265401167353415910' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1265401167353415910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1265401167353415910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/05/bucolicamente.html' title='Bucolicamente'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7520085023852390497</id><published>2008-05-07T18:42:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T18:47:42.958+02:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P.</title><content type='html'>Sono sempre i migliori ad andarsene...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theinquirer.net/gb/inquirer/news/2008/05/06/nvidia-buys-3dfx"&gt;Nvidia buys 3DFX&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7520085023852390497?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7520085023852390497/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7520085023852390497' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7520085023852390497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7520085023852390497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/05/rip.html' title='R.I.P.'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8394306118082092840</id><published>2008-05-03T18:44:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T18:51:48.934+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah le parole!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gli occhi non sanno vedere quello che il cuore vede&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La mente non può sapere quello che il cuore sa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'orecchio non può sentire quello che il cuore sente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Le mani non sanno dare quello che il cuore da&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo senti l'elettricità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arriuvo sulla mia città&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Porta novità porta novità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Il lupo perde il pelo io perdo le occasioni&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma non so perdere il vizio delle emozioni&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La vita è più interessante delle definizioni&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E tutto quello che arriva da qualche parte va&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gerusalemme è divisa sotto ad un solo cielo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E la mia mente è divisa dentro ad un corpo solo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Un meridiano per forza incrocia un parallelo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Determinando la sorte di molta umanità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E tutto quello che sappiamo non è vero&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E tutto quello che sappiamo non è vero&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si perdono le origini nel buco del tempo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma tutto si conserva nelle profondità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sia l'elefante che il topo non avranno scampo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La legge della savana li governerà&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Non si può scegliere un sogno non si può scegliere&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando ti arriva ti arriva non c'è niente da fare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Le previsioni del tempo si posson prevedere&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma un temporale che arriva non lo puoi fermare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si danza per invocare la fertilità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si danza prima del sesso o di un combattimento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si danza per riscaldarsi dal freddo che fa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si danza per imitare il lavoro del vento&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando non so dove sono io mi sento a casa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando non so con chi sono mi sento in compagnia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando c'è troppa virtù il cuore mi si intasa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La cura è spesso nascosta dentro alla malattia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo senti l'elettricità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo sulla mia città&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Porta novità porta novità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando tu hai fame nessuno può mangiare per te&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quando io ho sete nessuno può bere al posto mio&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anche gli automi hanno un cuore di alluminio puro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pronto per farci passare l'amore del futuro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Abramo lascia la casa senza sapere niente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si mette in strada lasciando quel che sapeva già&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E il trapezista si gioca tutto continuamente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Per pochi soldi ed per un brivido di libertà&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'autista di scuolabus ha in mano la nazione&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Più di un ministro di un Papa o di un'autorità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E c'è una terra di mezzo tra il torto e la ragione&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La maggior parte del mondo la puoi trovare là&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lavori in corso ci dispiace per l'inconveniente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hanno scoperto una casa dell'antichità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Due scheletri abbracciati qualche osso poco o niente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma il loro bacio va avanti per l'eternità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo senti l'elettricità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo sulla mia città&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Porta novità porta novità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'antico impero cinese accolse Marco Polo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Perchè era un giovane mercante di immaginazione&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Non servono grandi ali per spiccare il volo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;La vita è molto più vasta di una definizione&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E stanno tutti aspettando che succeda qualcosa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Che tolga il velo di polvere dalla realtà&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E stanno tutti aspettando che arrivi la sposa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Coi fiori in mano e una promessa di felicità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Problemi di digestione ispirano romanzi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rivelazioni che nascono nell'acidità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Un pò di bicarbonato dopo certi pranzi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Si eviterebbe lo scontro delle civiltà&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Gli uccelli volano bassi e sfiorano l'asfalto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E i cani stanno in silenzio con aria d'attesa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;La foto sulla parete mi segue con lo sguardo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nessun allarme per ora nessuna sorpresa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo senti l'elettricità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivo sulla mia città&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Porta novità porta novità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E l'invincibile non è quello che vince sempre&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma quello che anche se perde non è vinto mai&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'intelligenza è nel corpo il sapere nel cuore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Se pensi sempre ad un muro un muro troverai&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mi son trovato memorie che non sono mie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ho un solo nome ma almeno cento identità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E' naturale preferire le belle bugie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Alla durezza di ghiaccio di certe verità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Viviamo comodi dentro alle nostre virgolette&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ma il mondo è molto più grande più grande di così&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Se uno ha imparato a contare fino a sette&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vuol mica dire che l'otto non possa esserci&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Senti l'elettricità senti l'elettricità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;C'è un temporale in arrivoPorta novità porta novità&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8394306118082092840?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8394306118082092840/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8394306118082092840' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8394306118082092840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8394306118082092840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/05/ah-le-parole.html' title='Ah le parole!'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8881750967605950011</id><published>2008-04-19T17:50:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T17:57:25.437+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Leggero</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Banana Yoshimoto&lt;br /&gt;Il coperchio del mare&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alla fine dell’estate chi è stato l’ultimo a uscire dal mare?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;L’ultimo è tornato a casa senza chiudere il coperchio del mare&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E da allora per tutto questo tempo il mare è rimasto scoperchiato&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I ciliegi, le dalie, le creste di gallo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I girasoli, le margherite e i papaveri&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perché continuano a fiorire&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ancora e ancora&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In questo mondo senza te?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Non un libro da tutti. Non una scrittrice da tutti. Ancora una volta mi sono emozionato per la leggerezza estrema che le sue parole possono donare. Strade nuove si aprono ad ogni pagina e il concetto di carità assume finalmente un significato da poter abbracciare. Un consiglio a chi attraversa un periodo non troppo tranquillo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8881750967605950011?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8881750967605950011/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8881750967605950011' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8881750967605950011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8881750967605950011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/04/leggero.html' title='Leggero'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2990554657605366445</id><published>2008-04-08T16:15:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T16:17:39.251+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sconnessioni mentali</title><content type='html'>Seduto su una massa di cavi, i piedi nelle scarpe antinfortunistica, sopra ad una pozza d'acqua. Rumore. Mi comprime tutt'attorno, fino a farmi quasi tagliare il respiro. Allegramente le mie dita battono i tasti del portatile a formare quelle che sembrano quasi frasi dal senso compiuto. Le gambe meno allegramente sono completamente distrutte da quella poca attività fisica che ormai mi concedo. Un piede batte il tempo di una canzone che il cervello sta ascoltando, ma che le orecchie non odono. Pazzo. Perso. Io.&lt;br /&gt;Improvvisamente sono passati due giorni. Disconnesso dai miei pensieri, mi ritrovo a Granada, nella sala di attesa dell'aereoporto. Una Babilonia di pensieri, parole, azioni mi si dispiega davanti come un frutto acerbo. Non ne colgo il gusto. Corpi scordinati si muovono davanti, ne scaturiscono suoni irreali. Mi alieno dal mondo che ho davanti. Maledetto quel giorno che, in mezzo a tanta gente, ho perso la mia strada. Continuando a farmi del male. Ancora ad odiare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2990554657605366445?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2990554657605366445/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2990554657605366445' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2990554657605366445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2990554657605366445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/04/seduto-su-una-massa-di-cavi-i-piedi.html' title='Sconnessioni mentali'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4195927916146120619</id><published>2008-03-30T11:21:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T11:26:27.585+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Come non dargli ragione</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;...specialmente la domenica mattina. Specialmente caminando a piedi nudi...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Oh no&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;here comes that sun again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And (that) means another day without you my friend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it hurts me to look into the mirror at myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it hurts even more to have to be with somebody else. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But sometimes - sometimes, you just have to walk away - walk away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;With so many people to love in my life, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;why do I worry about one? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But you put the happy in my ness, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you put the good times into my fun. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But sometimes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sometimes, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you just have to walk away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;walk away and head for the door. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We've tried the goodbye so many days. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We walk in the same direction so that we could never stray. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They say if you love somebody than &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you have got to set them free, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but I would rather be locked to you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;than live in this pain and misery. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They say time will make all this go away, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but it's time that has taken my tomorrows and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;turned them into yesterdays. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And once again that rising sun is droppin' on down &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And once again, you my friend, are nowhere to be found. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But sometimes, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;sometimes &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you just have to walk away, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;walk away and head for the door. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You just walk away &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;walk away &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;walk away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You just walk away, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;walk on, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;turn and head for the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4195927916146120619?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4195927916146120619/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4195927916146120619' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4195927916146120619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4195927916146120619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/03/come-non-dargli-ragione.html' title='Come non dargli ragione'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6582430804342544399</id><published>2008-03-18T16:32:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T16:43:59.086+01:00</updated><title type='text'>E il signore disse buona la seconda...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dio mise la liberta nella musica. Poi arrivò la chiesa e decise che il ritmo era una cosa da demoni.&lt;br /&gt;Mise la bellezza nel corpo femminile. La società decise di nasconderla.&lt;br /&gt;Mise la perfezione nelle parole. Nacquero i poeti e i liberi pensatori. Fissarono quelle parole nei tempi sulla carta. Ritornò la chiesa e decise che era giusto bruciare &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;qualche&lt;/span&gt; libro.&lt;br /&gt;Oggi alcuni decidono di lasciare un ricordo di se. Alcuni ci provano. Pochi ci riescono.&lt;br /&gt;Spesso l'immagine che ne risulta è sfuocata, irreale, bugiarda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ma intanto scrivono.&lt;br /&gt;Infondo anche l'immagine che ci lasciano gli affermati scrittori non è proprio nitida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Il &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;blog &lt;/span&gt;è il modo più semplice e veloce che i nostri tempi hanno per comunicare con persone lontane e sconosciute agli occhi. Ha mille diffetti. Ma intanto permette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poi è arrivata Porta a Porta, il suo conduttore, la sua redazione i suoi intelligentissimi ospiti. Io ho scoperto di essere un drogato, che sicuramente ha qualche losco affare a sfondo sessuale che cerca solo un attimo di notorietà, avendo in pochi anni aperto non meno di cinque o sei blog.&lt;br /&gt;Certe persone non impareranno mai. MAI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pgdlEg9I4mo&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pgdlEg9I4mo&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6582430804342544399?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6582430804342544399/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6582430804342544399' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6582430804342544399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6582430804342544399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/03/e-il-signore-dissi-buona-la-seconda.html' title='E il signore disse buona la seconda...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2008060252551496798</id><published>2008-03-14T09:43:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T10:07:36.967+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Slowly Turnin' into you</title><content type='html'>La definizione di vita, già di per se limitata dalle parole che la compongono, che la nostra società ci da è da associarci più alla banale esistenza piuttosto che a quell'esplosione di stimoli che ogni giorno ci rende sempre più soggetti dell'esperienza comune e quindi completi, fino alla costruzione del nostra realtà. O forse è solo alienazione.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penso. Scappo. Penso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dal ritorno dal mio ultimo viaggio. Un'altra parte, un'altra vita aggiunta. Amici nuovi, conoscenze, di nuovo pensieri. Forse il mio posto nel mondo è là. Là non in America, con là voglio solo sottolineare la mancanza di un qua.&lt;br /&gt;Qua è ora. Le mie mancanze. Le mie alienazioni. Forse basterebbe associarsi a qualcuno, forse basterebbe fermarsi un pò.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;    I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;But you don’t know this&lt;br /&gt;Tell the truth&lt;br /&gt;You say I’m lying and I never really tell you the truth&lt;br /&gt;But your face is getting older&lt;br /&gt;So put your head on my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, put your head on my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday it hit me that I do all the little things&lt;br /&gt;That you do&lt;br /&gt;Except the same little things that you do are annoying&lt;br /&gt;They’re annoying as hell in fact&lt;br /&gt;It kinda struck a little bell in fact&lt;br /&gt;I like to keep my little shell intact&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something else came to mind&lt;br /&gt;That was the mirror&lt;br /&gt;It made everything clearer&lt;br /&gt;That you’re more beautiful compelling and stronger&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t take much longer&lt;br /&gt;Just for me to realize I love all the little things&lt;br /&gt;And the beauty that they’re gonna bring&lt;br /&gt;I dig your little laugh and I’m lovin’ your quick wit&lt;br /&gt;I even love it when you’re faking it&lt;br /&gt;And it might sound a little strange for me to say to you&lt;br /&gt;But I’m proud to be you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;br /&gt;And I’m slowly turning into you&lt;img src="http://www.metrolyrics.com/images/l/2147443418.jpg" height="1" width="1" /&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2008060252551496798?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2008060252551496798/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2008060252551496798' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2008060252551496798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2008060252551496798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/03/slowly-turnin-into-you.html' title='Slowly Turnin&apos; into you'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5282302270234226967</id><published>2008-03-10T12:26:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T12:29:20.336+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Preso blu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Lavarsi i denti nudo davanti allo specchio dopo la doccia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Una bambina in costume che esce dall’ascensore&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Le luci di una città nuova sul finestrino del taxi&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Gli aerei che decollano&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Le canzoni dei subsonica&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il frigorifero blu della smeg&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;La tipa che ti si siede accanto al bancone del bar&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il divano di pelle rossa&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il fiore di campo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il programma che finalmente si compila&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il viaggio di andata&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il viaggio di ritorno&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;I muri colorati&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Le travi finte sul soffitto&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;I ponti&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Gli inizi&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Le fini&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;I fulmini&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il cane che gioca&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Lost&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;L’isola di Bonaire&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il vecchietto senza denti che ti ringrazia per l’aiuto&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;La mamma e il papà orgogliosi di me&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Quella patata di bambino seduto affianco a me in aereo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Le donne in cinta&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il segno del reggiseno dopo l'abbronzatura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il cielo e il mare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dio in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;La rivoluzione&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il cuore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il cervello&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5282302270234226967?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5282302270234226967/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5282302270234226967' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5282302270234226967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5282302270234226967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/03/preso-blu.html' title='Preso blu'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2570290018327352035</id><published>2008-03-01T14:44:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T14:46:46.595+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Offline</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sono ancora vivo! Stanco, lontano, un pò spento, ma vivo!&lt;br /&gt;Ciao gente, amatemi,&lt;br /&gt;e ricordate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jacobs loves You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R8leCUZahfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/j-TNJVgO0zg/s1600-h/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R8leCUZahfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/j-TNJVgO0zg/s200/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172769040939779570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: oh, l'ho detto che sono stanco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2570290018327352035?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2570290018327352035/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2570290018327352035' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2570290018327352035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2570290018327352035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/03/offline.html' title='Offline'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R8leCUZahfI/AAAAAAAAAHg/j-TNJVgO0zg/s72-c/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2474750796976097744</id><published>2008-02-28T01:49:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T01:49:37.436+01:00</updated><title type='text'>L'odore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;È stato un solco  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tracciato all’improvviso  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;senza certezze,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;senza prudenza  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;nell’ annusarci  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;d’istinto e di stupore,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;in un crescendo  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;che ha dell’ irregolare.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Forse l’attesa  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;ci ha visto troppo soli,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;forse nel mondo  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;non sapevamo stare  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;così distanti  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;ad aspettarci ancora.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Così prudenti,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;così distanti,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;così prudenti.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Sei il suono, le parole  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;di ogni certezza persa dentro il tuo odore.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Siamo gli ostaggi di un amore  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;che esplode ruvido  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;di istinto e sudore.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;È stato un lampo  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;esploso in un secondo  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;a illuminarti in un riflesso,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;quando temevi  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tutta la luce intera,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;l’iridescenza  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;della tristezza.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Probabilmente  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;lasciandomi cadere  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;a peso morto  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;al tuo cospetto  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;avrei sicuramente  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;permesso la visuale  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;sulle mie alienazioni,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;sui miei tormenti,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;sui miei frammenti.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tu piano piano scivoli dentro me,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;ma voglio che poi  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;nell’insinuarti sia incantevole.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tu piano piano faccia strage di me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;in un incerto compromesso  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tra la mia anima e il suo riflesso.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Sei il suono, le parole  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;di ogni certezza persa dentro il tuo odore.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Siamo gli ostaggi di un amore  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;che esplode fragile  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;di istinto e sudore.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Quanti graffi da accarezzare  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;per tutti i cieli che possiamo tracciare,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tutte le reti del tuo odore  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;dentro gli oceani che dobbiamo affrontare.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tu piano piano scivoli dentro me,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;nell’insinuarti sia incantevole.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;tu piano piano scivoli dentro me,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;ma voglio che tu  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;nell’insinuarti tu sia incantevole.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Ma voglio...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2474750796976097744?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2474750796976097744/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2474750796976097744' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2474750796976097744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2474750796976097744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/02/lodore.html' title='L&apos;odore'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5741810166936881621</id><published>2008-02-23T00:59:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T01:04:54.798+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Livido amniotico v0.1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sono soltanto parole per me, che la distanza ora complica&lt;br /&gt;io vorrei tanto capirne di più, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;vorrei che non pensassi al male&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; che perso nel sonno più chiuso che c'è, lascia soltanto un impronta nell'aria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; oltre a un respiro d'amaro per noi, ci resta solo il disegno del tempo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; so che avremmo ancora bisogno di crederci&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;e anche se a volte parlarne fa male&lt;br /&gt;so che resta un livido amniotico gelido,&lt;br /&gt;sto percorrendo a ritroso la strada&lt;p&gt; per noi, ma qui tu scivoli a fondo e non hai&lt;br /&gt;rifugio per sciogliere il peso che c'è&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; in me è tardi in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Sono soltanto parole per me, che la distanza ora complica&lt;br /&gt;io vorrei tanto capirne di più, vorrei che non pensassi al male&lt;br /&gt;che perso nel sonno più chiuso che c'è,lascia soltanto un impronta nell'aria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; oltre a un respiro d'amaro per noi&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ci resta solo il disegno del tempo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; se non posso nemmeno provare più a reggerti&lt;br /&gt;nel vuoto che raschia il tuo sguardo specchiandomi&lt;br /&gt;lasciare che il tempo ora passi sopra di noi&lt;br /&gt;rendermi immobile al flusso dei giorni&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; tra noi, ma qui tu scivoli a fondo e non hai&lt;br /&gt;rifugio per sciogliere il peso che c'è&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; in me è tardi in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Sono soltanto parole per me, che la distanza ora complica&lt;br /&gt;io vorrei tanto capirne di più, vorrei che non pensassi al male&lt;br /&gt;che perso nel sonno più chiuso che c'è,lascia soltanto un impronta nell'aria&lt;br /&gt;oltre a un respiro d'amaro per noi, ci resta solo il disegno del tempo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; sei per me livido amniotico,&lt;br /&gt;sei per me livido amniotico,&lt;br /&gt;sei per me livido amniotico,&lt;br /&gt;sei per me livido amniotico,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; sei per me livido amniotico&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sono soltanto parole per me, che la distanza ora complica&lt;br /&gt;io vorrei tanto capirne di più, vorrei che non pensassi al male&lt;br /&gt;che perso nel sonno più chiuso che c'è,lascia soltanto un impronta nell'aria&lt;br /&gt;oltre a un respiro d'amaro per noi, ci resta solo il disegno del tempo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5741810166936881621?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5741810166936881621/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5741810166936881621' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5741810166936881621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5741810166936881621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/02/livido-amniotico-v01.html' title='Livido amniotico v0.1'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3782317094834452496</id><published>2008-02-11T00:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T00:27:59.282+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Privilegiato v0.1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R6-H0E8xnZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nFwGobRSPcg/s1600-h/DSC01463.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R6-H0E8xnZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nFwGobRSPcg/s320/DSC01463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165496626368847250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Quando sei nel centro del mondo, se non altro geograficamente, rivaluti ogni tua visione. Quando l'umidità dell'aria supera l'80% rivaluti ogni possibilità di portare lo stesso paio di mutande per più di 1 ora di fila. Per intendersi quella sopra è la panoramica dall'hotel sheraton di Guayaquil, posto in cui il 90% delle persone di qui non potrà mai permettersi. E penso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Documents%20and%20Settings/notebook02/Desktop/Equador/Foto/DSC01463.JPG" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3782317094834452496?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3782317094834452496/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3782317094834452496' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3782317094834452496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3782317094834452496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/02/privilegiato-v01.html' title='Privilegiato v0.1'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R6-H0E8xnZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nFwGobRSPcg/s72-c/DSC01463.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3911189155110187126</id><published>2008-02-01T16:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T16:46:12.281+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Politics suck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Io, come cittadino italiano, non voglio nè elezioni anticipate, nè un governo di transizione. Chiedo, come ultimo atto di estrema democraticità, che &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tutti&lt;/span&gt;, e sottolineo tutti, gli esponenti dell'attuale classe politica se ne vadano a casa, in seguito all'oggettiva incapacità di governare uno stato ormai allo sbando. Se e quando capiterà di votare esigo la possibilità di scegliere una figura libera da processi e condanne, che abbia una aspettattiva di vita superiore ai dieci anni e che &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;risponda direttamente&lt;/span&gt; delle proprie azioni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ribelliamoci ad uno stato che ormai non ci appartiene più!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3911189155110187126?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3911189155110187126/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3911189155110187126' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3911189155110187126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3911189155110187126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/02/politics-suck.html' title='Politics suck'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2802128203546125304</id><published>2008-01-29T09:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T09:33:07.420+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fatica v0.2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Passiamo metà del nostro tempo a chiederci cos’è l’amore. Sappiamo solo che arriva come la pioggia e quando si accende è una pazzia temporanea. Scoppia come un terremoto, erutta come un vulcano e in seguito si placa, e quando accade bisogna prendere una decisione; bisogna riuscire a capire se le nostre radici si sono intrecciate al punto da rendere inconcepibile il solo pensiero di separarle. Perchè l’amore è questo.&lt;br /&gt;L’amore non è turbamento, non è eccitazione, non è ardore, non è il desiderio di accoppiarsi ogni istante della giornata. Non è restare svegli la notte immaginando che lui sia li a baciare ogni parte del tuo corpo.&lt;br /&gt;Questo è semplicemente essere innamorati e chiunque può facilmente convincersi di esserlo. L’amore è invece quello che resta del fuoco quando l’innamoramento si è consumato. Ci sono radici che protendono sottoterra l’una versa l’altra e quando i fiori cadono si scopre che si è un albero solo, non due.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Ma a volte i petali cadono senza che le radici si siano intrecciate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2802128203546125304?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2802128203546125304/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2802128203546125304' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2802128203546125304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2802128203546125304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/01/fatica-v02.html' title='Fatica v0.2'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6515306387258239837</id><published>2008-01-28T12:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T13:12:53.600+01:00</updated><title type='text'>ora v legg un piccola poesia....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;l'altra parte da raggiungere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;solo per il gusto di attraversare&lt;br /&gt;nessuno da vedere&lt;br /&gt;nessuno ad aspettare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;immensa gioia nel cammino&lt;br /&gt;i miei passi si succedono veloci&lt;br /&gt;senza curarsi di alcun vicino&lt;br /&gt;senza paure atroci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6515306387258239837?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6515306387258239837/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6515306387258239837' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6515306387258239837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6515306387258239837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/01/ora-v-legg-un-piccola-poesia.html' title='ora v legg un piccola poesia....'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-41064728228103246</id><published>2008-01-15T09:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T09:26:46.085+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MAMMAAAAAAAA!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Sitting in the morning sun&lt;br /&gt;I'll be sitting when the evening comes&lt;br /&gt;Watching the ships roll in&lt;br /&gt;And I watch 'em roll away again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting on the dock of the bay&lt;br /&gt;Watching the tide roll away&lt;br /&gt;I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay&lt;br /&gt;Wasting time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left my home in Georgia&lt;br /&gt;Headed for the 'Frisco bay&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I had nothin to live for&lt;br /&gt;And look like nothing's gonna come my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look like nothing's gonna change&lt;br /&gt;Everything still remains the same&lt;br /&gt;I can't do what ten people tell me to do&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I'll remain the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sittin here resting my bones&lt;br /&gt;And this loneliness won't leave me alone&lt;br /&gt;It's two thousand miles I roamed&lt;br /&gt;Just to make this dock my home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm just...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-41064728228103246?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/41064728228103246/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=41064728228103246' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/41064728228103246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/41064728228103246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/01/mammaaaaaaaa.html' title='MAMMAAAAAAAA!!!!!'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6814957952903384751</id><published>2008-01-12T19:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T19:23:41.812+01:00</updated><title type='text'>quella foto mentre sorridi...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;L'aria in casa è sottile. Sono le sette e qualcosa di sera, ho attraversato velocemente un paio di camere. Penso a quanto siamo distanti. Chido gli occhi. Torno alla mia posizione, come se non me ne fossi mai andato. Una lacrima cade sulla guancia, non la mia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6814957952903384751?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6814957952903384751/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6814957952903384751' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6814957952903384751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6814957952903384751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/01/quella-foto-mentre-sorridi.html' title='quella foto mentre sorridi...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-265546888016888194</id><published>2008-01-04T08:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T09:02:08.672+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Because the snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Perchè intitolarlo  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;let it snow &lt;/span&gt;sarebbe stato davvero troppo facile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Spalare il viale davanti casa. Aiutare il vicino di sessant'anni intrappolato nella macchina prima che la morte per assideramento lo accogliesse. Osservare la mia città nascondersi. Non andare a lavorare perchè davanti al mio garage c'è un muro di venti metri di bianca e soffice sostanza. Scoprire che non è quello che pensavi e che comunque da solo non avresti potuto farcela. Mario che come un cretino sgomma per le strade.&lt;br /&gt;Si. Ad Acqui sta dolcemente nevicando. E io me la godo. Del tipo casa completamente vuota, George Gershwin e Nick Drake che se la suonano. Io e Ninja di Dio che ce la balliamo. Fatelo pure voi se vi riesce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Time has told me&lt;br /&gt;You're a rare rare find&lt;br /&gt;A troubled cure&lt;br /&gt;For a troubled mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And time has told me&lt;br /&gt;Not to ask for more&lt;br /&gt;Someday our ocean&lt;br /&gt;Will find its shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be&lt;br /&gt;What I really dont want to be&lt;br /&gt;Leave the ways that are making me love&lt;br /&gt;What I really dont want to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time has told me&lt;br /&gt;You came with the dawn&lt;br /&gt;A soul with no footprint&lt;br /&gt;A rose with no thorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your tears they tell me&lt;br /&gt;Theres really no way&lt;br /&gt;Of ending your troubles&lt;br /&gt;With things you can say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And time will tell you&lt;br /&gt;To stay by my side&lt;br /&gt;To keep on trying&lt;br /&gt;til theres no more to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So leave the ways that are making you be&lt;br /&gt;What you really dont want to be&lt;br /&gt;Leave the ways that are making you love&lt;br /&gt;What you really dont want to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time has told me&lt;br /&gt;Youre a rare rare find&lt;br /&gt;A troubled cure&lt;br /&gt;For a troubled mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And time has told me&lt;br /&gt;Not to ask for more&lt;br /&gt;For some day our ocean&lt;br /&gt;Will find its shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-265546888016888194?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/265546888016888194/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=265546888016888194' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/265546888016888194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/265546888016888194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2008/01/because-snow.html' title='Because the snow'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7076951517911365832</id><published>2007-12-23T20:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T20:09:13.043+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuckin'Mas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tanti auguri da Bizio e dal suo alberello di natale!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R26yOnK8DvI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/JomsN4GTcTM/s1600-h/IMG_0764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R26yOnK8DvI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/JomsN4GTcTM/s320/IMG_0764.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147247388233830130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R26x-XK8DuI/AAAAAAAAAHI/09fzayBX-Bg/s1600-h/IMG_0783.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R26x-XK8DuI/AAAAAAAAAHI/09fzayBX-Bg/s320/IMG_0783.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147247109060955874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7076951517911365832?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7076951517911365832/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7076951517911365832' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7076951517911365832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7076951517911365832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/12/fuckinmas.html' title='Fuckin&apos;Mas'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/R26yOnK8DvI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/JomsN4GTcTM/s72-c/IMG_0764.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7706103576598917262</id><published>2007-12-12T09:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T09:44:05.984+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Cosa vuol dire amare?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;La nostra generazione è troppo superficiale per unioni durature. Ci si sposa come si va al fast food. Poi, si fa zapping. Come vorreste che si restasse tutta la vita con la stessa persona nella società dello zapping generalizzato? In tempi in cui le star, gli uomini politici, le arti, i sessi, le religioni sono più intercambiabili che mai, perchè il sentimento amoroso dovrebbe fare eccezione alla schizofrenia generale?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E poi, prima di tutto, da dove ci viene questa strana ossessione d'ingegnarci a ogni costo per essere felici con una sola persona? Su 558 tipi di società umane, solo il 24 per cento è monogama. La maggior parte delle specie animali è poligamo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;La monogamia è una spaghettata a ogni pasto: un'indigestione di ciò che adorate, fino alla nausea. "Su, prendetene ancora un po'... Come? Non volete altri due spaghettini? Non ne potete più? Ma se lo trovavate delizioso poco fa, che vi succede, si può sapere?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;La potenza dell'amore, il suo incredibile potere, doveva terrorizzare la società occidentale a tal punto da farle creare questo sistema mirato a disgustarvi di ciò che amate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Leggevo di un ricercatore americano che ha recentemente dimostrato che l'infedeltà è biologica. L'infedeltà, secondo questo celebre scienziato, è una " strategia genetica atta a favorire la sopravvivenza della specie". Immaginatevi la scena: "Amore mio, non ti ho tradita per un mio piacere personale: l'ho fatto per la sopravvivenza della specie! Tu puoi anche fregartene, ma qualcuno deve pur farsi carico della sopravvivenza della specie! Se credi che io mi diverta!..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;L'uomo è un animale insoddisfatto, esitante tra diverse frustrazioni. Se le donne volessero giocare d'astuzia, gli si negherebbero, per farsi correre dietro tutta la vita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;E per concludere, l'unica domanda in amore è: a partire da quando si comincia a mentire? Siete sempre così felici di rientrare a casa e trovare la stessa persona che vi aspetta? Quando le dite "ti amo", lo pensate sempre? Ci sarà per forza - è fatale - un momento in cui per voi sarà uno sforzo. In cui i vostri "ti amo" non avranno più lo stesso sapore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Per me quando lasciai Gilda, lo scatto è stato la rasatura. Mi rasavo tutte le sere per non pungere Gilda baciandola di notte. E poi, una sera - lei dormiva già (ero uscito senza di lei fino all'alba, tipico genere di comportamento ignobile che ci si permette in qualche caso) - non mi sono rasato. Pensavo che non fosse grave, perchè lei non se ne sarebbe accorta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Invece significava semplicemente che non l'amavo più.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7706103576598917262?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7706103576598917262/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7706103576598917262' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7706103576598917262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7706103576598917262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/12/cosa-vuol-dire-amare.html' title='Cosa vuol dire amare?'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4199598000168517835</id><published>2007-12-05T16:05:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T16:06:35.721+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Proprio così...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Met a girl, thought she was grand&lt;br /&gt;Fell in love found out first hand&lt;br /&gt;Went well for a week or two&lt;br /&gt;Then it all came unglued&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a trapp trip I can't grip&lt;br /&gt;never thought I'd be the one who'd slip&lt;br /&gt;then I started to realize&lt;br /&gt;I was living one big lie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She fucking hates me.......... trust&lt;br /&gt;she fucking hates me.......... la la la love&lt;br /&gt;I tried too hard and she tore my feelings&lt;br /&gt;like I had none and ripped them away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was queen for about an hour&lt;br /&gt;After that shit got sour&lt;br /&gt;She took all I ever had&lt;br /&gt;No sign of guilt no feeling of bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a trapp trip I can't grip&lt;br /&gt;never thought I'd be the one who'd slip&lt;br /&gt;then I started to realize&lt;br /&gt;I was living one big lie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my story, as you see&lt;br /&gt;Learned my lesson and so did she&lt;br /&gt;Now it's over and i'm glad&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'm a fool for all I've said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust&lt;br /&gt;la la la la la la la la la love&lt;br /&gt;Trust&lt;br /&gt;She fucking hates me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4199598000168517835?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4199598000168517835/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4199598000168517835' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4199598000168517835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4199598000168517835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/12/proprio-cos.html' title='Proprio così...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8081267711253528664</id><published>2007-11-21T15:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T15:52:07.901+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Come non celebrare?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WXpLir3D91o&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WXpLir3D91o&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8081267711253528664?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8081267711253528664/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8081267711253528664' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8081267711253528664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8081267711253528664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/come-non-celebrare.html' title='Come non celebrare?'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7779408625579962318</id><published>2007-11-19T12:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T12:32:41.570+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quasi 29</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Alla fine inizi a pensare che quello che stai aspettando da una vita semplicemente non esiste. E allora fai finta che fuori ci sia sempre il sole. Tutto sembra andare come deve andare. Ti accontenti ma nessuno lo sa. 29 anni. Ancora uno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7779408625579962318?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7779408625579962318/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7779408625579962318' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7779408625579962318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7779408625579962318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/quasi-29.html' title='Quasi 29'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2187338672910258425</id><published>2007-11-14T18:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T18:31:42.808+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ad un'amica...marittima...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've got another confession to make&lt;br /&gt;I'm your fool&lt;br /&gt;Everyone's got their chains to break&lt;br /&gt;Holdin' you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were you born to resist or be abused?&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you gone and onto someone new?&lt;br /&gt;I needed somewhere to hang my head&lt;br /&gt;Without your noose&lt;br /&gt;You gave me something that I didn't have&lt;br /&gt;But had no use&lt;br /&gt;I was too weak to give in&lt;br /&gt;Too strong to lose&lt;br /&gt;My heart is under arrest again&lt;br /&gt;But I break loose&lt;br /&gt;My head is giving me life or death&lt;br /&gt;But I can't choose&lt;br /&gt;I swear I'll never give in&lt;br /&gt;I refuse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Has someone taken your faith?&lt;br /&gt;Its real, the pain you feel&lt;br /&gt;You trust, you must&lt;br /&gt;Confess&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Oh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...Oh...Oh...Oh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has someone taken your faith?&lt;br /&gt;Its real, the pain you feel&lt;br /&gt;The life, the love you'd die to heal&lt;br /&gt;The hope that starts the broken hearts&lt;br /&gt;You trust, you must&lt;br /&gt;Confess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got another confession my friend&lt;br /&gt;I'm no fool&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting tired of starting again&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were you born to resist or be abused?&lt;br /&gt;I swear I'll never give in&lt;br /&gt;I refuse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Has someone taken your faith?&lt;br /&gt;Its real, the pain you feel&lt;br /&gt;You trust, you must&lt;br /&gt;Confess&lt;br /&gt;Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?&lt;br /&gt;Oh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2187338672910258425?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2187338672910258425/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2187338672910258425' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2187338672910258425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2187338672910258425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/ad-unamicamarittima.html' title='Ad un&apos;amica...marittima...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-9200901282768707304</id><published>2007-11-08T10:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T10:07:02.027+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Causa ed effetto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RzLRj-8tepI/AAAAAAAAAGo/H4klpF3fwfI/s1600-h/1802730056_a3110fa76f_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RzLRj-8tepI/AAAAAAAAAGo/H4klpF3fwfI/s320/1802730056_a3110fa76f_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130393341651679890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I guess you have to have a probelm&lt;br /&gt;If you want to ´vent a contraption&lt;br /&gt;Well you cause a trainwreck&lt;br /&gt;And then you put me in traction&lt;br /&gt;First came an action&lt;br /&gt;And then a reaction&lt;br /&gt;But you can´t switch around&lt;br /&gt;For your own satisfaction&lt;br /&gt;Well you burnt my house down&lt;br /&gt;And then got mad at my reaction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well in every complicated situation&lt;br /&gt;There´s a human relation&lt;br /&gt;To make sense of it all&lt;br /&gt;Take a whole lot of concentration&lt;br /&gt;Well you can´t blame her baby&lt;br /&gt;For her pregnant ma&lt;br /&gt;And if there´s one of these&lt;br /&gt;On her auto applause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It´s just that you can´t just take the effect and make it the cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you can´t take the effect&lt;br /&gt;And make it the cause&lt;br /&gt;I didn´t rob a bank&lt;br /&gt;Cos you made up the law&lt;br /&gt;Blame me for robbing peter&lt;br /&gt;Don´t you blame paul&lt;br /&gt;Can´t take the effect&lt;br /&gt;And make it the cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ain´t the reason that you gave me&lt;br /&gt;No reason to return your call&lt;br /&gt;You built a house of cards&lt;br /&gt;And got shocked when you saw them fall&lt;br /&gt;Well I ain´t saying I´m innocent&lt;br /&gt;In fact the reverse&lt;br /&gt;But if your heading to the grave&lt;br /&gt;Don´t blame the hearse&lt;br /&gt;You´re like a little girl yelling at her brother&lt;br /&gt;Cos you lost his ball&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You keep blaming me for what you did&lt;br /&gt;And that ain´t all&lt;br /&gt;The way you clean up the wreck&lt;br /&gt;Is enough to give one pause&lt;br /&gt;You seem to forget just how this song started&lt;br /&gt;I´m reacting to you&lt;br /&gt;Cos you left me broken hearted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It´s just that you can´t just take the effect and make it the cause&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you can´t take the effect&lt;br /&gt;And make it the cause&lt;br /&gt;I didn´t rob a bank&lt;br /&gt;Cos you made up the law&lt;br /&gt;Blame me for robbing peter&lt;br /&gt;Don´t you blame paul&lt;br /&gt;Can´t take the effect&lt;br /&gt;And make it the cause&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-9200901282768707304?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/9200901282768707304/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=9200901282768707304' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/9200901282768707304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/9200901282768707304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/causa-ed-effetto.html' title='Causa ed effetto'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RzLRj-8tepI/AAAAAAAAAGo/H4klpF3fwfI/s72-c/1802730056_a3110fa76f_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8595001732510202755</id><published>2007-11-07T16:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T16:21:44.662+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Oggi mi sento così</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-M5wb4cnAtY&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-M5wb4cnAtY&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8595001732510202755?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8595001732510202755/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8595001732510202755' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8595001732510202755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8595001732510202755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/oggi-mi-sento-cos.html' title='Oggi mi sento così'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-149650949574121033</id><published>2007-11-05T10:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T10:48:02.929+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Una mattina come le altre</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mi sono appena svegliato. Quello che riesco a vedere della casa è privo di mobili o accessori. Sono legato al letto. Sono stato svaligiato. Sicuramente da un Rumeno. Sul giornale ho letto che loro stanno concorrendo per arrivare al primo posto nella classifica delle rapine in casa. Deve per forza essere stato uno di loro. In qualche modo mi libero dalle mie catene. In bagno cerco di svegliarmi un pò. L'acqua calda stenta ad arrivare. Sospetto che qualche zingaro si sia abusivamente attaccato alle mie tubazioni. Anzi non ho dubbi. Raggiungo quello che resta della cucina. Che carino, lo straniero non è riuscito a rubare il mio carissimo LCD appeso al muro. Forse è stato disturbato da qualche altro rumeno intento ad altre delinquere. Accendo la televisione, uno di quei telegiornali nazionali è in onda. Giusto un servizio sulla Romania. Un non ben identificato ufficiale della polizia rumena viene intervistato. A sentire lui, nel suo paese non esistono nè rapine nè omicidi. Secondo l'autorevole fonte, ogni singolo delinquente rumeno è venuto in Italia attirato come un bambino lo sarebbe da un negozio di giocattoli dalla pratica impossibilità di finire in galera. Così dice lui. Ci rifletto. Deve essere per forza così. Lo dice la televisione! Perchè mai mentirebbe.&lt;br /&gt;Scendo, per strada mille prostitute straniere degradano la mia città. Mi sento chiuso in gabbia. Continuo a pensare ai servizi della pubblica informazione. Colpa loro, colpa loro. Incontro un amico, guadagna mille euro al mese. E' precario. E' laureato. Arriva appena alla fine del mese. Si lamenta degli stranieri, del fatto che dovrebbero essere rispediti a casa.&lt;br /&gt;Mi chiedo come sia possibile che una persona in quella condizione si lamenti di certe cose e non focalizzi la rabbia sui suoi veri problemi. Ma se la televisione gli ha insegnato così deve essere così. Colpa loro.&lt;br /&gt;Cammino per la mia città e cerco di pensare. Continuo a non trovare alcun legame tra lo stato di misterioso imbarazzo economico in cui si trova l'Italia e gli stranieri delle nostre città. Ma devono essere stati loro. Non c'è dubbio. Poi succedevano le stesse cose negli anni venti, trenta e quaranta del secolo scorso...vuoi che non sia dinuovo così?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-149650949574121033?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/149650949574121033/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=149650949574121033' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/149650949574121033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/149650949574121033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/una-mattina-come-le-altre.html' title='Una mattina come le altre'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-580873661346490549</id><published>2007-11-02T12:48:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T12:53:37.688+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ricordarsi il mare...</title><content type='html'>...non per il blu, ma per la coda in autostrada. Questa è la sensazione. La mano dove prima c'erano i capelli. Mi sento a disagio. Gli otto ohm insieme a daniele silvestri mi aiutano con le parole. E' venerdì, il resto del mondo è in ferie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;        A me ricordi il mare&lt;br /&gt;e non per le vacanze&lt;br /&gt;che abbiamo fatto insieme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma per il tuo ondeggiare&lt;br /&gt;tra il gesto di chi afferra&lt;br /&gt;e quello di chi si trattiene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ci sono validi motivi per cui dovrei evitare di dirtelo&lt;br /&gt;ma dal momento che mi scrivi dirò&lt;br /&gt;che l'ho capito da subito&lt;br /&gt;perché sei...&lt;br /&gt;perché sei tu che quando arrivi sorridi&lt;br /&gt;e a me mi gira benissimo&lt;br /&gt;e sempre tu che se decidi ti giri&lt;br /&gt;e mi pugnali in un attimo&lt;br /&gt;così succede che mi pare che va bene&lt;br /&gt;e invece non va&lt;br /&gt;e se migliora allora peggiorerà&lt;br /&gt;oppure&lt;br /&gt;sono sicuro che va male arrivo di là&lt;br /&gt;e te lo dico tu mi dici "ma va"?&lt;br /&gt;e ancora&lt;br /&gt;a me succede che va bene&lt;br /&gt;e invece non va&lt;br /&gt;e se migliora allora peggiorerà&lt;br /&gt;oppure&lt;br /&gt;sono sicuro che va male arrivo di là&lt;br /&gt;e te lo dico tu mi dici "ti va"?&lt;br /&gt;ma io così non vado avanti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi ricordi il mare&lt;br /&gt;non per i riflessi&lt;br /&gt;per il sugo andato a male&lt;br /&gt;il qualunquismo dei discorsi&lt;br /&gt;sotto l'ombrellone&lt;br /&gt;il sudoko che non torna&lt;br /&gt;e quello che era scritto a penna&lt;br /&gt;è già da cancellare&lt;br /&gt;è come l'amore&lt;br /&gt;va di tasca in tasca come l'accendino vuole&lt;br /&gt;ti ritorna quando non hai niente da appicciare&lt;br /&gt;se escludiamo il poco che rimane&lt;br /&gt;ancora ancora ancora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baci, baci ed abbracci&lt;br /&gt;che diventano lacci&lt;br /&gt;e più diventano stretti&lt;br /&gt;più nascondono impicci&lt;br /&gt;come un cane ti accucci&lt;br /&gt;sui tuoi poveri stracci&lt;br /&gt;e piano piano vai giù&lt;br /&gt;come un programma di Socci&lt;br /&gt;piano piano vai giù&lt;br /&gt;ma poco dopo risorgi&lt;br /&gt;solo che non ti accorgi&lt;br /&gt;dei sorrisi posticci&lt;br /&gt;dei pensieri che scacci&lt;br /&gt;delle cose che lasci&lt;br /&gt;per banali capricci&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi ricordi il mare&lt;br /&gt;Non per gli ombrelloni&lt;br /&gt;Per la fila in tangenziale&lt;br /&gt;Il malfunzionamento del mio condizionatore&lt;br /&gt;la discesa libera sui sassi senza aver le scarpe&lt;br /&gt;per fare i fricchettoni&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questo è un po' il sapore&lt;br /&gt;del tutto compreso&lt;br /&gt;inclusa la consumazione&lt;br /&gt;io l'ho già bevuta&lt;br /&gt;eppure ho ancora troppa sete&lt;br /&gt;soprattutto quando tu mi uccidi&lt;br /&gt;ancora ancora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quello di chi si trattiene&lt;br /&gt;a me ricordi il mare&lt;br /&gt;e non per le vacanze&lt;br /&gt;che abbiamo fatto insieme&lt;br /&gt;ma per il tuo ondeggiare&lt;br /&gt;tra il gesto di chi afferra&lt;br /&gt;e quello di chi si trattiene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-580873661346490549?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/580873661346490549/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=580873661346490549' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/580873661346490549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/580873661346490549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/11/ricordarsi-il-mare.html' title='Ricordarsi il mare...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1568091486575222080</id><published>2007-10-27T17:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:36:36.992+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Let it Die</title><content type='html'>Sabato o Domenica. Effettivamente mi sono perso, i giorni si rincorrono simili gli uni agli altri. Il nuovo cd dei Foo Fighters ha appena lasciato il posto a quello di Ben Harper. Come sempre, è un piacere. Doccia, Playstation aperitivo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generazione vuota.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1568091486575222080?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1568091486575222080/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1568091486575222080' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1568091486575222080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1568091486575222080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/10/let-it-die.html' title='Let it Die'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7431657328303926175</id><published>2007-10-25T17:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T17:53:47.569+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Flow</title><content type='html'>Ottimamente si arriva alla fine della giornata lavorativa. Un leggero senso di febbre, dovuto alla stanchezza, ti accompagna da qualche giorno. Il dolore alle ossa fa il resto. Ti sfiora l'ideache non hai nemmeno trent'anni. Ti immagini a 50 e 60. Magari vestito da clown. Scoppi in una risata isterica.&lt;br /&gt;Il cellulare è muto da mezz'ora. Semplicemente finita la batteria. Alla radio i Duran Duran ti infastidiscono alla morte. Pensi allora ad una donna con le tette grosse. Sei malato. E' ormai chiaro. Passa il tempo e vorresti essere altrove a ridere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7431657328303926175?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7431657328303926175/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7431657328303926175' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7431657328303926175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7431657328303926175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/10/flow.html' title='Flow'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-245600075071659185</id><published>2007-10-19T14:07:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T14:08:10.498+02:00</updated><title type='text'>L'aria manca</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  I won't let you down&lt;br /&gt;I will not give you up&lt;br /&gt;Gotta have some faith in the sound&lt;br /&gt;It's the one good thing that I've got&lt;br /&gt;I won't let you down&lt;br /&gt;So please don't give me up&lt;br /&gt;Because I would really, really love to stick around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven knows I was just a young boy&lt;br /&gt;Didn't know what I wanted to be&lt;br /&gt;I was every little hungry schoolgirl's pride and joy&lt;br /&gt;And I guess it was enough for me&lt;br /&gt;To win the race? A prettier face!&lt;br /&gt;Brand new clothes and a big fat place&lt;br /&gt;On your rock and roll TV&lt;br /&gt;But today the way I play the game is not the same&lt;br /&gt;No way&lt;br /&gt;Think I'm gonna get me some happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there's something you should know&lt;br /&gt;I think it's time I told you so&lt;br /&gt;There's something deep inside of me&lt;br /&gt;There's someone else I've got to be&lt;br /&gt;Take back your picture in a frame&lt;br /&gt;Take back your singing in the rain&lt;br /&gt;I just hope you understand&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the clothes do not make the man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All we have to do now&lt;br /&gt;Is take these lies and make them true somehow&lt;br /&gt;All we have to see&lt;br /&gt;Is that I don't belong to you&lt;br /&gt;And you don't belong to me&lt;br /&gt;Freedom&lt;br /&gt;You've gotta give for what you take&lt;br /&gt;Freedom&lt;br /&gt;You've gotta give for what you take&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven knows we sure had some fun boy&lt;br /&gt;What a kick just a buddy and me&lt;br /&gt;We had every big shot good-time band on the run boy&lt;br /&gt;We were living in a fantasy&lt;br /&gt;We won the race&lt;br /&gt;Got out of the place&lt;br /&gt;I went back home got a brand new face&lt;br /&gt;For the boys on MTV&lt;br /&gt;But today the way I play the game has got to change&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna get myself happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there's something you should know&lt;br /&gt;I think it's time I stopped the show&lt;br /&gt;There's something deep inside of me&lt;br /&gt;There's someone I forgot to be&lt;br /&gt;Take back your picture in a frame&lt;br /&gt;Don't think that I'll be back again&lt;br /&gt;I just hope you understand&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the clothes do not make the man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All we have to do now&lt;br /&gt;Is take these lies and make them true somehow&lt;br /&gt;All we have to see&lt;br /&gt;Is that I don't belong to you&lt;br /&gt;And you don't belong to me&lt;br /&gt;Freedom&lt;br /&gt;You've gotta give for what you take&lt;br /&gt;Freedom&lt;br /&gt;You've gotta give for what you take&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it looks like the road to heaven&lt;br /&gt;But it feels like the road to hell&lt;br /&gt;When I knew which side my bread was buttered&lt;br /&gt;I took the knife as well&lt;br /&gt;Posing for another picture&lt;br /&gt;Everybody's got to sell&lt;br /&gt;But when you shake your ass&lt;br /&gt;They notice fast&lt;br /&gt;And some mistakes were built to last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what you get&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that's what you get&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what you get for changing your mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after all this time&lt;br /&gt;I just hope you understand&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the clothes&lt;br /&gt;Do not make the man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll hold on to my freedom&lt;br /&gt;May not be what you want from me&lt;br /&gt;Just the way it's got to be&lt;br /&gt;Lose the face now&lt;br /&gt;I've got to live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-245600075071659185?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/245600075071659185/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=245600075071659185' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/245600075071659185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/245600075071659185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/10/laria-manca.html' title='L&apos;aria manca'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-138075451777287442</id><published>2007-10-10T11:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T11:52:23.458+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Musa versione alpha</title><content type='html'>Capita che il passato possa bussare alla porta. Si schiudono i cancelli della lucidità. Alla mente tornano piacevoli ricordi. Sono stato unito. E questo basta. Ora posso tornare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-138075451777287442?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/138075451777287442/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=138075451777287442' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/138075451777287442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/138075451777287442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/10/musa-versione-alpha.html' title='Musa versione alpha'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8732316673883040443</id><published>2007-10-02T09:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T09:06:57.130+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Martedì mattina...fa freddo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When you try your best but you don't succeed&lt;br /&gt;When you get what you want but not what you need&lt;br /&gt;When you feel so tired but you can't sleep&lt;br /&gt;Stuck in reverse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the tears come streaming down your face&lt;br /&gt;When you lose something you cannot replace&lt;br /&gt;When you love someone but it goes to waste&lt;br /&gt;COULD IT BE WORSE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt;And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to fix you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And high up above or down below&lt;br /&gt;When you're too in love to let it go&lt;br /&gt;But if you never try you'll never know&lt;br /&gt;Just what you're worth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt;And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to fix you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt;When you lose something you cannot replace&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt;I promise you I will learn from my mistakes&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt;And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to fix you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="353" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jBEYyHGbwto&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jBEYyHGbwto&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="353" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8732316673883040443?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8732316673883040443/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8732316673883040443' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8732316673883040443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8732316673883040443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/10/marted-mattinafa-freddo.html' title='Martedì mattina...fa freddo...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2025276431125429582</id><published>2007-09-28T08:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T10:39:39.437+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gesù ama te come adamo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Uno, due. Uno, due. Il tempo cammina graziosamente nella stanza della tua vita. Uno, due. Guardi la luce passare attraverso la finestra. Uno, due. Il fascio non ti raggiunge, ma puoi sentirne il calore generato sfiorarti le gambe. Uno, due. Ti sposti, come richiamato, verso di lei. Ti si sta sgretolando il corpo. Unodue. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Polvere eri, polvere stai tornando. Tutti quei libri, tutta quella conoscenza ora non ti serve più. Uno, due. Forse sarebbe stato meglio che Eva avesse mangiato il frutto della vita. Ma no. Tu dovevi capire, sapere. Uno, due. E ora ne soffri. Sai ma non hai. Capisci, ma non puoi. Uno, due. Il tempo è quasi finito. E allora crei; l'arte è il tuo modo di gridare a Dio che vorresti. Parole, disegni e suoni. Ma l'orologio cammina. Uno, due. E cerchi solo il modo di rimanere qui per sempre. Almeno nei ricordi di qualcuno. Uno, due.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lights go out and I can’t be saved &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tides that I tried to swim against &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brought me down upon my knees &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh I beg, I beg and plead &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Singin’, come out if things aren’t said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Shoot an apple off my head &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And a, trouble that can’t be named &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tigers waitin’ to be tamed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Singing, yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yoooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Confusion never stops  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Closing walls and ticking clocks &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Gonna, come back and take you home &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I could not stop that you now know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Singin’, come out upon my seas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Curse missed opportunities &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Am I, a part of the cure  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Or am I part of the disease &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Singin’, yoooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh nothing else compares &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh nothing else compares &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And nothing else compares &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Home, home, where I wanted to go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Home, home, where I wanted to go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Home, home, where I wanted to go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Home, home, where I wanted to go  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;         &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2025276431125429582?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2025276431125429582/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2025276431125429582' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2025276431125429582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2025276431125429582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/09/ges-ama-te-come-adamo.html' title='Gesù ama te come adamo'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-955321750398704199</id><published>2007-09-25T12:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T12:37:16.929+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Prima o poi...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  You keep saying you've got something for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; something you call love, but confess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; and now someone else is gettin' all your best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do&lt;br /&gt;one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin'&lt;br /&gt;and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.&lt;br /&gt;You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'.&lt;br /&gt;Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do&lt;br /&gt;one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin&lt;br /&gt;and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burnt.&lt;br /&gt;Ha! I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah&lt;br /&gt;and what he know you ain't HAD time to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="353"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-ECyTGZjOJc"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-ECyTGZjOJc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="353"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-955321750398704199?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/955321750398704199/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=955321750398704199' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/955321750398704199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/955321750398704199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/09/prima-o-poi.html' title='Prima o poi...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1127541752022578792</id><published>2007-09-19T08:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T17:35:40.058+02:00</updated><title type='text'>La bestia che gridò amore nel mondo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Lilith. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;" lang="it"&gt;Secondo l’antico mito        ebraico, era la prima moglie di Adamo, nata però con        “sedimenti e sudiciume, invece di polvere pura”. Essa quindi era        considerata inferiore già nel pensiero di Dio, ma Lilith cercò di        conquistare la sua parità rifiutando durante l’amplesso di giacere sotto        l’uomo e protestando la sua uguaglianza. Adamo cercò di imporsi con la        forza finché Lilith; lei invocando il nome di Dio, “si librò nell’aria e lo        abbandonò”. Più tardi l’uomo, sentendosi solo, si rivolse all’Eterno per        riavere la sua compagna e tre arcangeli furono mandati a riprenderla, ma Lilith preferì gettarsi nel Mar Rosso e vedere morire una parte della        sua numerosa prole piuttosto che tornare indietro.&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;Vi sono molte interpretazioni su cosa successe dopo: divenne moglie di        Satana, la prima Vampira, Demone primo che si accoppia con umani e poi        uccide, generando demoni, Dea guerriera amante degli animali. La Dea        Madre, carica di tutti i frutti generosi si materializza come perversione        e sensualità dettata dall'eterno terrore che la forza creatrice incute al        primitivo popolo maschile. Lilith viene ora venerata di nascosto come        Madre o come diavolo se non equivalente di Satana stesso. Secoli dopo aver        assunto le forme più curiose come quello della luna nera astrologica        rappresentante la sessualità e la parte più selvaggia della personalità o        come la forza guerriera amazzone o come l'elemento del fuoco, o l'altra        faccia della luna, diviene intorno alla fine dell'ottocento il simbolo        della ribellione femminile che afferma la parità politica e legale con        l'uomo. Lilith, lo spirito del vento, conosciuta attraverso le pagine del        Talmud, del Midrash e del libro dello Splendore, è la femminilità        creatrice, indipendente e ribelle che si impone ma che sa amare. Lei così        sensuale e calda è si esclusa dalla beatitudine divina, ma rimane nei miti terreni a simboleggiare quella fertilità arcana della        terra e quel mistero vivo, femminile, pieno di contraddizioni seppur        affascinante. Nel mito invece il suo posto accanto ad Adamo fu preso da        Eva, nata da una costola dell’uomo, ma l’ombra della ribellione e del        tradimento di Lilith rimasero nel genere umano come istinto che può        diventare tanto più pericoloso quanto più non è compreso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strana roba la religione. Anche nel rapporto che la società ha avuto con le donne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1127541752022578792?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1127541752022578792/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1127541752022578792' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1127541752022578792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1127541752022578792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/09/la-bestia-che-grid-amore-nel-mondo.html' title='La bestia che gridò amore nel mondo'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7776188490391964736</id><published>2007-09-10T07:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T08:39:54.314+02:00</updated><title type='text'>l'esercito dei qualunquisti</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pochi ragazzi, tre o quattro in tutto, si ritrovano il sabato mattina presto. In comune hanno poco, fedi politiche, età e provenienza sociale diverse. Il punto di contatto è il malessere generalizzato nei confronti di una classe dirigente ormai imbarazzante. L'idea, ormai diventata necessità, di poter, o forse sarebbe meglio dire dover, cambiare lo status quo di una società ammalata, in balia di se stessa e di regole nate per poter fare l'interesse di alcuni. I furbacchioni.&lt;br /&gt;La gente inizia ad arrivare, firma e si sfoga con noi; l'impossibilità di aprire un dialogo con quelli là, che da lontano tirano i fili della nostra vita e si arricchiscono alle nostre spalle. E' questo l'&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;esercito dei qualunquisti&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Individui stanchi, di destra quanto di sinistra, che hanno deciso di credere in primo luogo in se stessi, che vengono accusati di apoliticità. La politica è un affare della gente e a essa deve tornare. Noi siamo apartitici.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Io sono un ragazzo di destra, che però non si riconosce più nei valori dell'opposizione odierna. Da De Gasperi (o forse sarebbe meglio dire Degasperi) allo "psiconano" il percorso è stato deviato troppo. Noi non siamo nè tutti fascisti nè tutti di &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forza Italia&lt;/span&gt;. In mezzo, come direbbe qualcuno, c'è il mare. Ho partecipato al vDay, caricandolo di significato; in quanto giovane penso che il futuro della società debba essere messo in mano ai miei coetanei e non a persone che stanno progettando un tempo che mai vedranno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spero che questo sia stato il punto di partenza di qualcosa di più grande.&lt;br /&gt;La via è stata tracciata. Ora non ci resta che percorrerla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fabrizio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7776188490391964736?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7776188490391964736/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7776188490391964736' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7776188490391964736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7776188490391964736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/09/lesercito-dei-qualunquisti.html' title='l&apos;esercito dei qualunquisti'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5095138335572161910</id><published>2007-09-02T18:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T08:21:07.516+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Stanza 9  letto 17</title><content type='html'>Tutti stretti intorno al letto. E' il numero 17. Ognuno è chiuso nei suoi pensieri. Probabilmente ricordi. Qualcuno ha scritto l'ultima parola sul suo libro. Pochi metri più in alto, al quinto piano per la precisione, qualcun altro ha scritto la prima di parola sul proprio libro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me ne resto in disparte. Silenzioso scorro le pagine del libro della persona sul letto di fronte a me. Per lo meno quelle che ha scritto con me. Sono triste, profondamente. Ed anche un pò più solo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrivederci.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5095138335572161910?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5095138335572161910/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5095138335572161910' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5095138335572161910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5095138335572161910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/09/stanza-9-letto-17.html' title='Stanza 9  letto 17'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8499059561960379954</id><published>2007-08-31T09:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T09:19:16.621+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Un altro mare (Un altro amore?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Se te ne vai&lt;br /&gt;Io resterò&lt;br /&gt;A difendere&lt;br /&gt;L'idea di noi&lt;br /&gt;Che vedevamo crescere&lt;br /&gt;Quasi all'improvviso&lt;br /&gt;Tu vuoi riflettere&lt;br /&gt;Su ciò che è stato&lt;br /&gt;E poteva essere&lt;br /&gt;Stare qui&lt;br /&gt;Non fa bene neanche a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dovunque andrai&lt;br /&gt;Arriverò a riprenderti&lt;br /&gt;Perchè tu sai che non ho&lt;br /&gt;Intenzione di perderci&lt;br /&gt;Forse come uomo&lt;br /&gt;Potevo fare meglio&lt;br /&gt;Però gli errori&lt;br /&gt;Si commettono per sbaglio&lt;br /&gt;E ora so&lt;br /&gt;Che da qui ripartirò cosi&lt;br /&gt;Guardando sopra la mia testa&lt;br /&gt;C'è un altro mare&lt;br /&gt;Se chiudo gli occhi&lt;br /&gt;Riesco a immaginare&lt;br /&gt;Oltre il volo degli uccelli&lt;br /&gt;E degli aerei&lt;br /&gt;Giorni lontani&lt;br /&gt;Di noi domani&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non mi fa paura&lt;br /&gt;Il tempo che corre&lt;br /&gt;E mi porta lontano&lt;br /&gt;Le cose che amiamo&lt;br /&gt;Perchè so&lt;br /&gt;Che voglio inseguirle&lt;br /&gt;Per questo vivrò&lt;br /&gt;Guardando sopra la mia testa&lt;br /&gt;C'è un altro giorno&lt;br /&gt;Che ha cancellato tutto&lt;br /&gt;Il buio in un secondo&lt;br /&gt;E ora vedo&lt;br /&gt;Il tuo sorriso&lt;br /&gt;Sono sicuro&lt;br /&gt;Sarà  bellissimo il futuro&lt;br /&gt;Se guardo sopra la mia testa&lt;br /&gt;C'è un altro mare&lt;br /&gt;Chiudendo gli occhi&lt;br /&gt;Riusciamo a immaginare&lt;br /&gt;E oltre il volo degli uccelli&lt;br /&gt;E degli aerei&lt;br /&gt;Giorni lontani&lt;br /&gt;Di noi domani&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8499059561960379954?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8499059561960379954/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8499059561960379954' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8499059561960379954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8499059561960379954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/un-altro-mare-un-altro-amore.html' title='Un altro mare (Un altro amore?)'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4698135976443672663</id><published>2007-08-27T09:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T09:54:54.925+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunedì: ratatau!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Buongiorno. Mi chiamo Fabrizio. Sono un quasi ventinovenne in ricerca; da circa dieci vivo completamente fuori dal coro. Di qualunque tipo. Sono sereno, forse felice. Abito in un appartamento in centro città, anche se forse città è esagerato, da qualche mese. Sono italiano. Non penso tutta la settimana alla pizza, anzi inizio ad esserene infastidito. Per questo diserto. Amo scrivere e leggere. Colleziono libri e prendo appunti su di essi. Disegno per puro diletto. Ho un lavoro che mi permette di vivere in una società della quale non condivido i fondamenti. Ho girato un pezzo di mondo. Ho cercato di fare mie le persone che ho conosciuto. Ho amato fino alla morte, quindi mi sono chiuso in attesa. Ho cercato di capire e condividere una parte della strada. A volte è stato facile, altre meno. Parlo e mi racconto. Mi sono accorto della mia quasi incapacità di ascoltare. Per questo sto cercando di cambiare.&lt;br /&gt;Oggi è lunedì mattina. Sono in ufficio. Forse questa è la causa del post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4698135976443672663?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4698135976443672663/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4698135976443672663' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4698135976443672663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4698135976443672663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/luned-ratatau.html' title='Lunedì: ratatau!'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4037676438309299621</id><published>2007-08-25T12:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T13:13:52.435+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabato mattina</title><content type='html'>Dopo aver dormito due ore...grazie di cuore a Ben per la vita che ci mette, quando io ne ho più poca da metterci:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ho molta più paura di vivere&lt;br /&gt;di quanta ne abbia di morire&lt;br /&gt;Ho molta più paura di cadere&lt;br /&gt;di quanta ne abbia di volare alto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ogni morale ha una propria storia&lt;br /&gt;e ogni storia una propria fine&lt;br /&gt;Ogni battaglia le sue glorie&lt;br /&gt;e le proprie conseguenze&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4037676438309299621?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4037676438309299621/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4037676438309299621' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4037676438309299621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4037676438309299621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/sabato-mattina.html' title='Sabato mattina'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8368448414709822866</id><published>2007-08-24T08:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T09:19:04.285+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ninja di Dio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sembra un bicchiere. Ma è il suo mondo. Lo guardo da dietro il vetro. Ma lui sembra non accorgersi della mia presenza. E' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Ninja di Dio &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;il mio nuovo amico casalingo. Rosso con una piccola macchia bianca sulla coda. Mi piace. Ne gioisco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="testo"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Qualora l'universo intiero si muovesse per schiacciare l'uomo, nel momento di venire schiacciato e di morire, l'uomo saprebbe che muore. L'universo non sa nulla sulla nostra dignità risiede dunque ne pensiero.&lt;br /&gt;Il privilegio del pensiero è ciò che fa di noi i fratelli maggiori di tutte le creature: è per questo che a noi sono affidate, per questo confidano in noi.&lt;br /&gt;Ma deve essere un pensiero che in questo soltanto sia diverso dal pensiero del cane o della rondine, dell'ape o del delfino: che si dà e che si esprime a un più alto livello di coscienza, nell'ambito di una più evidente - anche se limitata - libertà.&lt;br /&gt;E occorre che a coscienza e a libertà si accoppi la sapienza, quella che può ricondurci, dopo tanto errare, in sintonia con la natura di cui siam fatti, con le creature della terra e del mare e del cielo, con le palesi testimonianze di Dio.&lt;br /&gt;Questo è il primo segno del risveglio, il primo sbadiglio del mattino, il primo ridestarsi a un nuovo giorno, più limpido, al centro di un universo riscoperto, nella carezza di un sole più caldo, sotto un cielo più sereno."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8368448414709822866?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8368448414709822866/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8368448414709822866' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8368448414709822866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8368448414709822866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/ninja-di-dio.html' title='Ninja di Dio'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7884028787419511764</id><published>2007-08-23T09:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T15:59:00.636+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Premiata Stupideria Giannone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rs2SM9kAp1I/AAAAAAAAACA/_601D6tNUE8/s1600-h/sm125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rs2SM9kAp1I/AAAAAAAAACA/_601D6tNUE8/s320/sm125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101894704262326098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;La spalla sinistra si fa sentire.&lt;br /&gt;Micro crosticine iniziano&lt;br /&gt;la loro lenta,&lt;br /&gt;ma inarrestabile, danza.&lt;br /&gt;Il nuovo tatuaggio.&lt;br /&gt;Un significato,&lt;br /&gt;come per gli altri due,&lt;br /&gt;vicino al cuore.&lt;br /&gt;Lento&lt;br /&gt;penso ad un sorriso.&lt;br /&gt;Spalmo della vasellina,&lt;br /&gt;ma non è il culo di una donna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manco il mio. Ed è già qualcosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7884028787419511764?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7884028787419511764/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7884028787419511764' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7884028787419511764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7884028787419511764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/premiata-stupideria-giannone.html' title='Premiata Stupideria Giannone'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rs2SM9kAp1I/AAAAAAAAACA/_601D6tNUE8/s72-c/sm125.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4876965289901911365</id><published>2007-08-15T21:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T21:39:48.574+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere in south italy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In torno a me il teatro sopra Taormina. Di fronte alcuni ragazzi impegnati nella prova di ballo per il loro prossimo spettacolo. Nelle orecchie la musica di Frank Sinatra. Nel cervello una sola frase in ciclo infinito "Hai perso tempo, non sai più che vuoi qui".&lt;br /&gt;Le lacrime sono difficili da trattenere, così come gli amici difficili da sentire. Parlano e camminano sulle gradinate. Ma sono solo col palco. Capita di essere rapiti dall'infinita perfezione di un momento di arte. Qualcuno gli ha anche dato un nome, ma poche parole difficilmente catturerebbero questo momento. E' come sono le dita di una donna sulla schiena. Non si possono spiegare facilmente, ma tutti sanno cosa donano. Volo sulla città, sull'isola. Il mare diventa una tavola di colori. Estremamente felice, completamente impaurito. Ho perso il punto davvero. Forse fra poco penserò al lavoro o a qualche storia d'amore. Ecco lo sto già facendo. Perdo nuovamente. Fatemi tornare indietro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A prima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4876965289901911365?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4876965289901911365/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4876965289901911365' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4876965289901911365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4876965289901911365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/somewhere-in-south-italy.html' title='Somewhere in south italy'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-168262852369659263</id><published>2007-08-03T13:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T13:54:25.931+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I've lost my train</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sono in ufficio. Chiaramente è la pausa pranzo, anche perchè il sole è bello alto, e intorno a me non c'è nessuno. Ma io sono in ufficio. Stanco, infinitamente, stanco. Mi trascino tra i miei progetti, le commesse, purtroppo non del Galassia e i clienti che non vanno in ferie. Come me. Dio!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The future is easy 'couse it doesn't exist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The past is painful 'couse it exists forever&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Di seguito una canzone per piangere una per ridere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When i reminisce ignorance was bliss,&lt;br /&gt;Back in the days where the magic exist&lt;br /&gt;Never be the same as it was, 'cuz the way it was&lt;br /&gt;Just another day in the maze of a myth&lt;br /&gt;Had a lot of fun living life on the run,&lt;br /&gt;Never had a chance to pause to get a better glance&lt;br /&gt;Everything was free and everything was fast&lt;br /&gt;Never even thought it wouldn't last&lt;br /&gt;When you go the mind of a man in the middle&lt;br /&gt;Life is just a big fat riddle, so figure it out&lt;br /&gt;Always thinking that you know&lt;br /&gt;Everything little thing there is to know&lt;br /&gt;But you don't really know, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;It's like love, some people get it&lt;br /&gt;For some it's just a glove that just never fitted&lt;br /&gt;For me it's just a pain in the ass&lt;br /&gt;But i'm addicted to the taste of hopin' it could last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another day another night inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;Another game another fight inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;Another wrong another right inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;Such a lonely world, such a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;Who's the man (the man in the middle) x4&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i'm a target for people that are bitter&lt;br /&gt;At least i can say that i've never been a quitter&lt;br /&gt;I remember high school, man i hated high school&lt;br /&gt;It was like prison with bullies always putting me down&lt;br /&gt;Just a little skater boy they could pick on&lt;br /&gt;I learned to forgive'em, now i got the balls they can lick on&lt;br /&gt;I loved sneakin' out when my mom was asleep&lt;br /&gt;With my gothic girlfriend makin' love in the creek&lt;br /&gt;With the mind of a man in the middle&lt;br /&gt;It could be the end of the world as we know it&lt;br /&gt;Still i never want it all, and i never want it now&lt;br /&gt;I just want to cruise, if i loose then i'll figure it out&lt;br /&gt;How the times flies, even with the blink of an eye&lt;br /&gt;When you're young you absorb like a sponge in disguise&lt;br /&gt;Then you get a little older and gather your thoughts&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing what you learn&lt;br /&gt;When you've never been taught, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt; No matter how hard i can try inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;No one can hear me when i cry inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;I'll never know the reasons why inside a lonely world&lt;br /&gt;Such a lonely world (such a lonely world)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SUkPC9ggmtM"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SUkPC9ggmtM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-168262852369659263?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/168262852369659263/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=168262852369659263' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/168262852369659263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/168262852369659263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/ive-lost-my-train.html' title='I&apos;ve lost my train'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1926756832330479562</id><published>2007-08-02T10:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T11:30:58.681+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly me to the moon</title><content type='html'>La luna, il suo corpo, le mie dita. In questi giorni la luna sembra finta. Se ne sta lì, pallida e enorme, a guardarti. Lontana da ogni tuo problema.&lt;br /&gt;Attraverso la stanza. Mi guardo intorno, ma non riesco a mettere a fuoco nulla. Neanche lo spigolo del letto che decide di esplodere contro la mia gamba. Tutto improvvisamente torna alla realtà.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Fa caldo, come direbbe qualcuno, un cazzo di caldo. In casa ci sono la bellezza di 32 gradi centigradi, l'umidità sfiora il 100%. In un metro cubo d'aria c'è la stessa quantità d'acqua che sta in un metro cubo di acquario (pieno); praticamente per spostarsi da una camera all'altra si può nuotare. Impossibile e non riscontrabile alcuna funzione celebrale; nulla di nuovo (sotto la luna) quindi.&lt;br /&gt;In qualche modo raggiungo il mio stupendo frigorifero blu, apro la porta anni 50; una forte luce mi illumina. Nel primo ripiano cinque bottiglie d'acqua. Un sorriso in faccia. Penso di fermarmi a dormire nel frigo. Mi asciugo la fronte dal sudore, prendo una bottiglia. Come sono mi trasferisco sul terrazzo dove ho intenzione di passare la prossima mezz'ora a cercare di prendere un pò di fresco (!?) e scolarmi la bottiglia. Se i vicini mi vedessero ora chiamerebbero la polizia. Sono nudo e questo è solamente un terrazzo. Non una spiaggia per nudisti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cazzo se fa caldo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1926756832330479562?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1926756832330479562/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1926756832330479562' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1926756832330479562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1926756832330479562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/08/fly-me-to-moon.html' title='Fly me to the moon'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3209527663661455925</id><published>2007-07-26T20:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T20:02:38.539+02:00</updated><title type='text'>French connection</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Lei ha percorso lo spazio che separa pensiero e azioni molto velocemente. Troppo velocemente per i miei gusti. Improvvisamente mi ritornano alla memoria i tradimenti, una figura paterna assente, una materna invadente, l’incapacità di unirsi. Mi sento inadeguato. Affaticato, come quando sogno di dover correre e non averne le forze o di dover urlare ed essere afono. Alle sue spalle la torre Eifel, alle mie una vita diversa da come la vorrei. Da come l’avrei voluta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Cerco di calmarmi. Prendo un paio di respiri profondi, tanto da sentire male alla testa. Ma non succede nulla. I ricordi rientrano ordinatamente e facendo silenzio. L’ombra di decine di persone si riflette sulla lente dei suoi occhiali. Cerco di concentrarmi su quella sfuocata immagine, di allontanarmi dalle sue parole. Riacquistare l’equilibrio, ritrovato applicandomi nell’arte dell’autostima e dell’amorproprio, diventa impossibile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;La sveglia mi strappa dall’incubo. Fuori Piove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3209527663661455925?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3209527663661455925/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3209527663661455925' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3209527663661455925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3209527663661455925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/french-connection.html' title='French connection'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5682351680340650635</id><published>2007-07-23T08:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T08:21:14.877+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pensieroso il lunedì</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cammino tra le strade deserte di questa che non è la mia città. Faccio fatica, sarà il lunedì, saranno i pensieri che non mi danno tregua. Finalmente la temperatura mi da un pò di spazio, da qualche parte deve aver piovuto. Non dalle mia parte.&lt;br /&gt;Ho necessità di trovare il motivo dei miei pensieri continui. Anche se ho un'estrema paura di saper già qual'è...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5682351680340650635?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5682351680340650635/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5682351680340650635' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5682351680340650635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5682351680340650635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/pensieroso-il-luned.html' title='Pensieroso il lunedì'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-849235509929791351</id><published>2007-07-20T10:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T10:38:12.252+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Infine sereno</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Il gusto in bocca non è tra i più promettenti. Eppure i denti me li sono lavati. Ricordo di averlo fatto. Janis Joplin  canta. Anche io voglio provare, ma i colleghi non ne sono felici. Canto dentro allora. Sono sereno. Anche grazie agli amici.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try, try, try just a little bit harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; So I can love, love, love him (&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;), I tell myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; 'Cause I'm gonna try, oh yeah, just a little bit harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; So I won't lose, lose, lose him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to nobody else, yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey, I don't care how long it's gonna take ya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; But if it's a dream I don't want   No I don't really want it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah if it's a dream I don't want nobody to wake me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah I'm gonna try, oh yeah, just a little bit harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; So I can give, give, give, give him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;every bit of my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; I'm gonna try, oh yeah, just a little bit harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; So I can show, show, show him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;love with no control, yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey! I don't care how long it's gonna take ya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; But if it's a dream I don't want&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    No I don't really want it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah if it's a dream I don't want nobody to wake me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey, dig it! Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, hey, try oh yeah, Lord, Lord, Lord,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, try oh yeah, Lord, Lord, Lord,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah yeah, try, whoa, try oh yeah, Lord, Lord, Lord,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Push, work, push, work, oh yeah, try, oh yeah hey!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, hey try oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try Lord, try, try, you ain't trying man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You're not trying out man, come up with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Come on, that's a wanker that listens to words, man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey you gotta work all night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey little girl, gotta push on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You gotta need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Work a little more, hey, try a little more,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Need a little more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah, work on, push on, move on, move on,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You gotta work for it, you gotta work on it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Push on, need on, move on,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Move on, hey hey hey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Work it daddy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Work it daddy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Come on, work it daddy, oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Yeah, yeah, you better try, try, try, try a little more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You ain't never gonna get any man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;girl&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;if that's the sort of thing you can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Shit, there's lot more talent around than that man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try, try, try, try try try,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You've gotta try, try, try, try,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try, try, try, try, try, try...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You gotta try, try, try, try...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Lord, try, try, try, try,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Lord, try, try, try, try,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey, try, try, try, try,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Hey, try oh yeah, try oh yeah, Lord, Lord, Lord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, hey, try whoa, try oh yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, Lord, Lord, Lord, try oh yeah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, hey, hey, hey,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Try oh yeah, try oh yeah,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Lord, Lord, Lord, oh Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-849235509929791351?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/849235509929791351/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=849235509929791351' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/849235509929791351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/849235509929791351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/infine-sereno.html' title='Infine sereno'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6527743837753448814</id><published>2007-07-19T10:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T18:00:49.213+02:00</updated><title type='text'>No way out (AKA Acqui is burning)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Fa caldo. Troppo caldo. Tra la mia scrivania e quella di fronte ci saranno poco meno di due metri e troppa poca aria. Le pareti sembrano restringersi su di me. Now I Know Why You Wonna Hate Me. Ho il morale ai piedi. Voglio andare via ora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hello  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I've waited here for you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Everlong  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Tonight  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I throw myself into  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And out of the red, out of her head she sang  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Come down  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And waste away with me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Down with me  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Slow how  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;You wanted it to be  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I'm over my head, out of her head she sang  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And I wonder  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;When I sing along with you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If everything could ever feel this real forever  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If anything could ever be this good again  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The only thing I'll ever ask of you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;She sang  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Breathe out  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So I could breathe you in  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hold you in  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And now  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I know you've always been  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Out of your head, out of my head I sang  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And I wonder  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;When I sing along with you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If everything could ever feel this real forever  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If anything could ever be this good again  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The only thing I'll ever ask of you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;She sang  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And I wonder  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If everything could ever feel this real forever  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If anything could ever be this good again  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The only thing I'll ever ask of you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;She sang   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6527743837753448814?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6527743837753448814/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6527743837753448814' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6527743837753448814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6527743837753448814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/no-way-out-aka-acqui-is-burning.html' title='No way out (AKA Acqui is burning)'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6601637964412331818</id><published>2007-07-17T10:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T08:31:35.420+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah Dio il weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Quando vai ad una festa di paese sai già che ti stai per divertire. In maniera semplice, ma sai dove andrai a parare. Quando i bicchieri di rosso diventano troppi. Quando la carne alla brace non sembra finire mai. Le parole con gli amici sono piacevoli, aiutate dal tasso alcolico. Senti il fegato tirare, la pancia gonfiare. Ma ti diverti, Dio se ti diverti! Le infradito non riescono a starti dietro, la musica ti entra dentro, ti accompagna. Finalmente ti senti. La sera passa in fretta.&lt;br /&gt;La mattina dopo arriva ancora prima. Il mal di testa è imperioso. Alcune pustoline dalla punta bianca ricoprono te e la tua donna senza soluzione di continuità. Una bella intossicazione alimentare ti ricorda quanto di tendenza sia stato il tuo weekend. Una brutta tendenza.&lt;br /&gt;In qualche modo esco dal vincolo della seconda persona, mi trascino in sala. Accendo lo stereo, in fondo sono solamente le sette di mattina, no? I subsonica cantano, io mi preparo un buon caffe amaro, che non si dovrebbe negare a nessuno.&lt;br /&gt;Bevo, leggo la stampa di domenica. Me ne imbarazzo. Penso che probabilmente internet sia ormai l'unica buona fonte di notizie. Passo al pc, leggo la posta. Solo lavoro. Rido come un pazzo, saluto la mia donna, spengo lo stereo, inizio la nuova settimana.&lt;br /&gt;Ma cavoli se mi sono divertito a ubriacarmi coi miei amichetti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6601637964412331818?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6601637964412331818/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6601637964412331818' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6601637964412331818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6601637964412331818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/ah-dio-il-weekend.html' title='Ah Dio il weekend'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5891686473081014339</id><published>2007-07-16T10:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:01:45.237+02:00</updated><title type='text'>La libertà di essere</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Saltellando il coniglio bianchio ha superato quello che per lui era il confine del mondo. Sulla sua schiena un numero otto è stato verniciato per distinguerlo dai fratelli. Una dolce macchia nera circonda il suo occhio sinistro. Bianconiglio, questo è il suo nome, si guarda intorno; spera che quelle che quelle mani, strane zampe rosa senza peli, smettano di prenderlo. Saltella verso la libertà. Pian piano giunge da me. Si chiede se si può fidare, sembro diverso da quelle altre persone che prima gli stavano intorno. Ci mettiamo molto a conoscerci, ma l'amore che io decido di donargli è infinito. Le cose sembrano andare. Fino a che entrambi non ci accorgiamo che anche il mio amore toglie libertà. Ora bianconiglio sta saltellando verso un nuovo laboratorio, libero di essere quello che la vita ha deciso per lui.  Felice dell'amore che gli ho donato lo saluto di nascosto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5891686473081014339?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5891686473081014339/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5891686473081014339' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5891686473081014339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5891686473081014339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/luned-mattina-build-11.html' title='La libertà di essere'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-1721294516167737448</id><published>2007-07-11T17:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T17:34:29.576+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Secondo piano</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Stanco. E caldo. Corro a destra e sinistra, ritornando a destra, per il monferrato. Controllo un pò il blog di &lt;a href="http://www.beppegrillo.it/" target="_blank"&gt;Beppe Grillo&lt;/a&gt;. Continuo ad avere caldo. Continuo a andare sempre meno a destra. Camminando piano cerco di prenotare le ferie. Una settimana di scorribande in Sicilia con gli amichetti con i quali ci si trova di più. Ora corro. Ma sclero. Continuo a pensare a persone lontane. Amiche nel cuore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-1721294516167737448?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/1721294516167737448/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=1721294516167737448' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1721294516167737448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/1721294516167737448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/secondo-piano.html' title='Secondo piano'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7147900687705452404</id><published>2007-07-10T08:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T11:13:22.077+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Un volo scordinato</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Martedì. Decimo giorno del settimo mese. In salita piena. In una settimana o due, sono riuscito a smarrire il passaporto, distruggere la carta di identità e perdere le chiavi della macchina. Ed è solo martedì. Almeno c'è la fiera...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ho comprato una bellissima due cavalli di latta. Felice la ho stretta a me. Coccolata. Non è una donna. Due panini ipercalorici sono finiti nel mio pancino. I fuochi mi hanno spaventato la notte. Subito sono scappato a casa. Qualcuno ha accarezzato le mie paure. Non era una macchina di latta. Nuovamente tranquillo sono arrivato a martedì.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Oggi si tratta di lavorare. Terminare il più velocemente il pomeriggio. Riscendere sulla fiera per comprare qualche oggettino in legno da mettere in casa (vista la lampada rossa), ricordarsi di prenotare le ferie in sicilia. Camminare. Correre. Volare. Scomposto. In fondo è solo martedì, non si può pretendere molto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RpNDb8iAOfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/gM2hVd5719k/s1600-h/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RpNDb8iAOfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/gM2hVd5719k/s320/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085482551615699442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(cinquant'anni dopo...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Penso che un sogno cosi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Non ritorni mai piu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Poi d'improvviso venivo dal vento rapito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Volare oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Cantare oh oh oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nel blu dipinto di blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Felice di stare lassu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E volavo volavo felice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Piu' in alto del sole ed ancora piu'su&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Mentre il mondo pian piano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Spariva lontano laggiu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Una musica dolce suonava soltanto per me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Volare oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Cantare oh oh oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nel blu dipinto di blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Felice di stare lassu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ma tutti i sogni nell'alba svaniscon perche'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Quando tramonta la luna li porta con se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ma io continuo a sognare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Negli occhi tuoi belli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Che sono blu come un cielo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Trapunto di stelle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Volare oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Cantare oh oh oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nel blu degli occhi tuoi blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Felice di stare quaggiu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;E continuo a volare felice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Piu' in alto del sole ed ancora piu'su&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Mentre il mondo pian piano scompare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Negli occhi tuoi blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;La tua voce e una musica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dolce che suona per me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Volare oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Cantare oh oh oh oh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nel blu degli occhi tuoi blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Felice di stare quaggiu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nel blu degli occhi tuoi blu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Felice di stare quaggiu'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Con te&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Con te&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7147900687705452404?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7147900687705452404/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7147900687705452404' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7147900687705452404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7147900687705452404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/un-volo-scordinato.html' title='Un volo scordinato'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RpNDb8iAOfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/gM2hVd5719k/s72-c/CENA%2B17%2BMARZO%2B017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8069116593641251187</id><published>2007-07-05T11:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T17:40:20.612+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Un giorno ancora</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Un giorno mio padre mi ha detto che la vita è una sola, lo sa quasi per certo. Come sa quasi per certo che farà schifo. Così dice lui. Io sono giovane. Ancora. Imparo oggi cos'è. La mia versione per lo meno. Sa anche a me che sarà una. Sa anche a me che farà schifo. Così è adesso. Sarà l'umidità dell'ufficio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scrivo al computer. Abbastanza velocemente. Disegno qualcosina. Per lo più parlo al telefono con persone che non conosco. Lo spagnolo. Mi piacerebbe parlarlo più fluidamente. Non riesco a stare senza ragazza per più di due giorni. Non riesco a stare con una ragazza per più di due giorni. Se non con quelle sbagliate. Attraverso spesso la stanza in cui sono perchè iperattivo. Leggo e scrivo molto. Imparo. Spero. Soffro. E non lo racconto.&lt;br /&gt;Amo i miei genitori, ma non li sopporto. Amo il mio cane, ma non è mio. Non sta nemmeno molto bene e da sei mesi non lo vedo. Amo la Lotus, ma sono immaturo a farlo. Così mi hanno detto. Amo le donne. Amo stare sul mio terrazzo. Amo la birra. Il vino. L'alcol.&lt;br /&gt;Corro. Non abbastanza da tirare giù la pancia che da un paio d'anni mi insegue. Anzi mi precede. La tecnologia e la tradizione. Continuo a cercare di capire. Fluisco e mi integro. L'aperitivo al Pinky. Gi. I ponti. L'estate e l'inverno. Il pavimento difficile da lavare. L'edera è morta. Il PC nuovo da montare. Fastweb. Il piacere da fare. Le corna. I pelati. E i capelli che cadono. La clio azzura. La panda azzurra. I Giorgio. Le puttane che ho amato. Lasciare andare. Battersi per tenere. Nuotare. Il mare. Il vento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La mia vita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Errata Corrige: come mi è stato &lt;em&gt;gentilmente&lt;/em&gt; fatto notare il post contiene almeno un paio di errori. E, penso io, di inprecisioni. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Così va interpretato: il tutto non è altro che un flusso di &lt;strong&gt;parole&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;libere, unite da associazioni mentali&lt;/strong&gt;. E' solo una tecnica che cerco di affinare. Mi sono accorto che leggendo il post senza essere nella mia testa le associazioni tra frasi appiano ma non come le avevo pensate. E' proprio questa la differenza tra l'essere uno scrittore ed un semplice lettore che cerca di simulare ciò che ha visto...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Poi, molto probabilmente, le puttane a cui mi riferivo non leggerano mai il blog, anche perchè fuori dalla mia vita da anni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8069116593641251187?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8069116593641251187/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8069116593641251187' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8069116593641251187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8069116593641251187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/07/un-giorno-ancora.html' title='Un giorno ancora'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5513690498043762339</id><published>2007-06-25T08:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T09:23:07.313+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Come una barca fatta di carta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; che quando si bagna affonda,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come un frutto che a ogni morso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; la testa mi confonde,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una fiamma che si muove&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; e al vento non ubbidisce mai,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; mi piace come sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una bilancia che pesa il tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; la solitudine e il silenzio,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come un buco nell'universo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; da dove arrivano i sogni,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una cesta da riempire &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; e da non vuotare mai,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; mi piace come sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una ferita dentro al cuore che non fa male&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; mi piace come sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una finestra che anche chiusa lascia passare l'aria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; una figlia una madre una donna nella mia vita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una nuvola gonfia d’acqua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; che nutre la terra secca,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come la lana che mi protegge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; quando l'inverno arriva,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come la candela che resta accesa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; e che mi fa luce nell'oscurità,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; mi piace come sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come la strada che mi porta sempre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; nel luogo esatto in cui voglio arrivare,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come quel posto lontano dal centro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; dove mi fermo a riposare,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; come una patria senza bandiera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; dove sentirsi liberi,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; mi piace come sei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5513690498043762339?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5513690498043762339/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5513690498043762339' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5513690498043762339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5513690498043762339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/lunes.html' title='Lunes'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4907136314175062853</id><published>2007-06-22T13:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T14:11:15.789+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Il frutto della passione</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;E' complice la vita. Entra nella sua modalità. E chiaramente con i suoi tempi. Non potrebbe essere diversamente. Un venerdì sera qualsiasi. Una corsetta tra amici. Ora è ritornata ad essere una droga della quale non puoi fare a meno. Che ti obbliga a migliorare. Ne sono felice. E spero di continuare a farlo. Così come l'ho fatto oggi nella pausa pranzo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4907136314175062853?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4907136314175062853/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4907136314175062853' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4907136314175062853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4907136314175062853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/il-frutto-della-passione.html' title='Il frutto della passione'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3139467979633440794</id><published>2007-06-21T13:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T13:54:54.343+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Estate v2.8 beta 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;La luna è passata lasciando dietro a se il caldo torrido di questi giorni. Alla televisione ripetono che pioverà. Poi che sarà l'estate più calda degli ultimi 140 anni. Che la settimana di ferragosto sarà la settimana più centrale di agosto del 2007. Allarmisti.&lt;br /&gt;Il mio caffè sta, sotto forma liquida, raggiungendo il bordo superiore della moka. Il profumo e il brontolio della caffettiera riempono completamete la cucina. Mi alzo solo per prendere la bottiglia del latte. Mi risiedo. La mia tazza colorata sbuffa lentamente. Penso a mia madre. A quello che mi ha detto l'ultima volta che ci siamo visti. Finalmente sono orgogliosi di me. Mi vedono cresciuto.&lt;br /&gt;Sapessero cosa c'è qui dentro. Forse non lo so nemmeno più io. Le lacrime spingono per uscire. Giro su MTV per non pensare. Canto. Forse. E' solo ora di andare a lavorare ed io sono sempre più stanco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ixyTNd-Ln38"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ixyTNd-Ln38" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What is this song all about?&lt;br /&gt;Can't figure any lyrics out&lt;br /&gt;How do the words to it go?&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd tell me, I don't know&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know, I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm mumblin' and I'm screamin'&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know what I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;Crank the volume, ears are bleedin'&lt;br /&gt;I still don't know what I'm singin'&lt;br /&gt;We're so loud and incoherent&lt;br /&gt;Boy, this oughta bug your parents&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*belch*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's unintelligible&lt;br /&gt;I just can't get it through my skull&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to bargle nawdle zouss&lt;br /&gt;with all these marbles in my mouth&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know, I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we don't sound like Madonna&lt;br /&gt;Here we are now, we're Nirvana&lt;br /&gt;Sing distinctly? We don't wanna&lt;br /&gt;Buy our album, we're Nirvana&lt;br /&gt;A garage band from Seattle&lt;br /&gt;Well it sure beats raisin' cattle&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moo..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;baa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I forgot the next verse&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I guess it pays to rehearse&lt;br /&gt;The lyric sheet's so hard to find&lt;br /&gt;What are the words, oh nevermind&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know, I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;Don't know, don't know, don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm yellin' and we're playin'&lt;br /&gt;But I don't know what I'm sayin'&lt;br /&gt;What's the message I'm conveyin'?&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell me what I'm sayin'?&lt;br /&gt;So have you got some idea?&lt;br /&gt;Didn't think so&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'll see ya&lt;br /&gt;Sayonara, sayonawa&lt;br /&gt;Ayonawa, hodinawa&lt;br /&gt;Odinaya, yodinaya&lt;br /&gt;Yaddayadda, yaaahyaaah&lt;br /&gt;Ayiyaaaaaah!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3139467979633440794?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3139467979633440794/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3139467979633440794' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3139467979633440794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3139467979633440794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/estate-v28-beta-1.html' title='Estate v2.8 beta 1'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3177956469316600706</id><published>2007-06-20T17:25:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T17:25:54.190+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Certe persone non imparano mai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I want you to know, that I'm happy for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I wish nothing but the best for you both&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; An older version of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Is she perverted like me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Would she go down on you in a theatre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Does she speak eloquently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And would she have your baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; To make it enough for you to be open wide, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And every time you speak her name&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Does she know how you told me you'd hold me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Until you died, till you died&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; But you're still alive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I'm here to remind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the mess you left when you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; It's not fair to deny me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the cross I bear that you gave to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You, you, you oughta know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You seem very well, things look peaceful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Are you thinking of me when you fuck her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; To make it enough for you to be open wide, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And every time you speak her name&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Does she know how you told me you'd hold me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Until you died, til you died&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; But you're still alive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I'm here to remind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the mess you left when you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; It's not fair to deny me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the cross I bear that you gave to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; You, you, you oughta know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I'm not gonna fade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; As soon as you close your eyes and you know it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I hope you feel it...well can you feel it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; And I'm here to remind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the mess you left when you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; It's not fair to deny me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Of the cross I bear that you gave to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; You, you, you oughta k&lt;/span&gt;now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3177956469316600706?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3177956469316600706/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3177956469316600706' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3177956469316600706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3177956469316600706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/certe-persone-non-imparano-mai.html' title='Certe persone non imparano mai'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6843405955432556517</id><published>2007-06-20T17:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T17:19:43.368+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Semplici passi</title><content type='html'>Il sole è alto alle spalle.&lt;br /&gt;Cammino lento verso la macchina,&lt;br /&gt;Il riflesso del mio volto sul finestrino.&lt;br /&gt;Qualcosa deve essere.&lt;br /&gt;Il rumore di un pensiero,&lt;br /&gt;il particolare che non torna.&lt;br /&gt;Alessandria si racconta&lt;br /&gt;grigia come sempre&lt;br /&gt;mi avvolge umida e soffocante.&lt;br /&gt;In attesa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6843405955432556517?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6843405955432556517/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6843405955432556517' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6843405955432556517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6843405955432556517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/semplici-passi.html' title='Semplici passi'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3391614792282337384</id><published>2007-06-14T09:22:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T09:23:14.809+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Con una rosa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Con una rosa hai detto&lt;br /&gt;vienimi a cercare&lt;br /&gt;tutta la sera io resterò da sola&lt;br /&gt;ed io per te&lt;br /&gt;muoio per te&lt;br /&gt;con una rosa sono venuto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bianca come le nuvole di lontano&lt;br /&gt;come una notte amara passata invano&lt;br /&gt;come la schiuma che sopra il mare spuma&lt;br /&gt;bianca non è la rosa che porto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gialla come la febbre che mi consuma&lt;br /&gt;come il liquore che strega le parole&lt;br /&gt;come il veleno che stilla dal tuo seno&lt;br /&gt;gialla non è la rosa che porto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sospirano le rose nell'aria spirano&lt;br /&gt;petalo a petalo mostrano il color&lt;br /&gt;ma il fiore che da solo cresce nel rovo&lt;br /&gt;rosso non è l'amore&lt;br /&gt;bianco non è il dolore&lt;br /&gt;il fiore solo è il dono che porto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rosa come un romanzo di poca cosa&lt;br /&gt;come la resa che affiora sopra al viso&lt;br /&gt;come l'attesa che sulle labbra pesa&lt;br /&gt;rosa non è la rosa che porto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;come la porpora che infiamma il mattino&lt;br /&gt;come la lama che scalda il tuo cuscino&lt;br /&gt;come la spina che al cuore si avvicina&lt;br /&gt;rossa così è la rosa che porto a te&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lacrime di cristallo l'hanno bagnata&lt;br /&gt;lacrime e vino versate nel cammino&lt;br /&gt;goccia su goccia, perdute nella pioggia&lt;br /&gt;goccia su goccia le hanno asciugato il cuor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;portami allora portami il più bel fiore&lt;br /&gt;quello che duri più dell'amor per sé&lt;br /&gt;il fiore che da solo non specchia il rovo&lt;br /&gt;perfetto dal dolore&lt;br /&gt;perfetto dal suo cuore&lt;br /&gt;perfetto dal dono che fa di sè&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3391614792282337384?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3391614792282337384/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3391614792282337384' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3391614792282337384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3391614792282337384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/con-una-rosa.html' title='Con una rosa'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4105830220716097845</id><published>2007-06-12T14:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T14:47:06.112+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Icky Thump</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Semplicemente sempre i migliori...fate spazio alle nuove righe bianche:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" id="lyricsContent"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yah-hee, icky thump&lt;br /&gt;Who'd-a thunk?&lt;br /&gt;Sittin' drunk&lt;br /&gt;On a wagon to Mexico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her hair, what a chump&lt;br /&gt;And my head&lt;br /&gt;Got a bump&lt;br /&gt;When I hit it on the radio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red-head señorita&lt;br /&gt;Lookin' dead&lt;br /&gt;Came to said,&lt;br /&gt;"I need a bed" en español&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I gave a drink of water&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna sing around the collar&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't need a microphone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Icky thump, with the lump&lt;br /&gt;In my throat&lt;br /&gt;Grab my coat&lt;br /&gt;And now it's reckon&lt;br /&gt;I was ready to go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I swam beside the hair&lt;br /&gt;She had one white eye&lt;br /&gt;One blank stare&lt;br /&gt;Lookin' up, lyin' there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a stand in her hair&lt;br /&gt;Was a candy cane&lt;br /&gt;Black rum, sugar cane&lt;br /&gt;Dry eye, somethin' strange!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La la, la la la la la la la la la laaa laaa laaa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Americans:&lt;br /&gt;What, nothin' better to do?&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you kick yourself out?&lt;br /&gt;You're an immigrant too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who's usin' who?&lt;br /&gt;What should we do?&lt;br /&gt;Well you can't be a pimp&lt;br /&gt;And a prostitute too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Icky thump, handcuffed to a bunk&lt;br /&gt;Robbed blind&lt;br /&gt;Looked around&lt;br /&gt;And there was nobody else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left alone&lt;br /&gt;I hit myself with a stone&lt;br /&gt;Went home&lt;br /&gt;And learned how to clean up after myself&lt;/span&gt;             &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1OjTspCqvk8"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1OjTspCqvk8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4105830220716097845?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4105830220716097845/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4105830220716097845' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4105830220716097845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4105830220716097845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/icky-thump.html' title='Icky Thump'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-165101332315475593</id><published>2007-06-11T17:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T17:51:57.520+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lo specchio ha smesso di riflettere.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cammina tra le persone. Ma spesso se ne sente estraniato. Si innamora facilmente di chi non lo considera. Ma accoglie difficilmente chi lo nota. Dipinge la sua vita con colori a cera. Ma la semplice acqua sa cancellare tutto. Costruisce ponti tra realtà lontane per non appartenere ad ognuna di esse. Ama giacere su questi. Ma in continuo movimento tra i poli opposti. Si stanca. Ma è subito pronto a ripartire. Sta crescendo. Ma forse troppo lentamente per esserne felice. Legge libri con la stessa voracità con cui il buio mangia il mondo al tramonto. Ma non ne gode sempre. Si accontenta dei particolari del suo tempo. Ma mai più che per cinque minuti. Un adulto di 28 anni superati. Ma un bambino nel cuore.&lt;br /&gt;Mi accompagna da quasi trentanni. Ma non me ne stanco mai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-165101332315475593?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/165101332315475593/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=165101332315475593' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/165101332315475593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/165101332315475593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/lo-specchio-ha-smesso-di-riflettere.html' title='Lo specchio ha smesso di riflettere.'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5600694062130658990</id><published>2007-06-08T17:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T17:40:02.259+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Stanco v0.2</title><content type='html'>Ho parcheggiato e camminato non so quanto&lt;br /&gt;e non so dove sono, qua&lt;br /&gt;ma so soltanto che si sente un buon profumo,&lt;br /&gt;un bel silenzio e l'acqua che va&lt;br /&gt;lontano da me, lontano da noi,&lt;br /&gt;lontano dalla giostra che non si ferma mai&lt;br /&gt;e ciò il biglietto sì ma questa corsa la vorrei lasciare fare a voi&lt;br /&gt;solo a voi, la lascio fare a voi,&lt;p&gt; che io sto bene qui, seduto in riva al fosso&lt;br /&gt;io sto bene qui, seduto in riva al fosso.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; O è il riflesso della luna&lt;br /&gt;o sei proprio bella, se vuoi siediti!&lt;br /&gt;hai parcheggiato e camminato non sai&lt;br /&gt;quanto non sai dove sei, ma sei qui&lt;br /&gt;lontana da te, lontana da voi,&lt;br /&gt;lontana da uno specchio che non dice chi sei&lt;br /&gt;se sotto il cielo c'è qualcosa di speciale passerà di qui prima o poi&lt;br /&gt;prima o poi, comunque tu lo sai&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; che si sta bene qui seduti in riva al fosso&lt;br /&gt;stiamo bene qui, seduti in riva al fosso...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Sono arrivati con la guida&lt;br /&gt;ed hanno apparecchiato per il loro pic-nic&lt;br /&gt;con sedie i tavolini la TV i telefonini e le facce di chi va&lt;br /&gt;lontano da chi, lontano da che,&lt;br /&gt;lontano per sentito dire senza un perché&lt;br /&gt;se vuoi restare resta pure&lt;br /&gt;ho da fare non mi viene in mente cos'è&lt;br /&gt;ma lo so che, io lo so com'è&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; che state bene lì, seduti in riva al fosso&lt;br /&gt;state bene lì seduti in riva al fosso...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Avanti, state bene lì, state bene lì, state bene lì,&lt;br /&gt;state bene, lì state bene lì, state bene lì...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5600694062130658990?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5600694062130658990/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5600694062130658990' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5600694062130658990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5600694062130658990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/stanco-v02.html' title='Stanco v0.2'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6748161006121040116</id><published>2007-06-03T07:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T07:28:06.391+02:00</updated><title type='text'>FAQ</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;1) COME TI CHIAMI? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Fabrizio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;2) TI MANGI LE UNGHIE? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Se ho fame…ma tanta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;3) QUANTI SMS SPEDISCI AL GIORNO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;pochi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;4) COSA NON DEVE MANCARE NEL FRIGORIFERO O NELLA DISPENSA DI CASA TUA? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Birra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;5) DOLCE O SALATO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;salato&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;6) STAI ASCOLTANDO QUALCOSA IN QUESTO MOMENTO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; No, è troppo presto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;7) SE Sì, CHE COSA?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;8) IL RUMORE PIù FASTIDIOSO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;La risata di stefania&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;9) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA COSA CHE" st="on"&gt;LA COSA CHE&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; PIU' TI FA INCAZZARE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;? La pellicola sugli schermi nuovi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;10) IL LIBRO CHE VORRESTI AVER SCRITTO? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Il piccolo principe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;11) IL FILM CHE TI PENTI DI AVER VISTO AL CINEMA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Open water e più o meno gli ultimi 20 che ho visto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;12) A CHE ETA' IL PRIMO CELLULARE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;22&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;13) COME DEVE ESSERE FISICAMENTE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA PERSONA CHE" st="on"&gt;LA PERSONA CHE&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; AMI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;mediterranea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;4) COME DEV'ESSERE CARATTERIALMENTE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA PERSONA CHE" st="on"&gt;LA PERSONA CHE&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; AMI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;matta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;16) CHI TI ISPIRA PENSIERI PROIBITI?&lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt; Una tipa del bennet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;17) IL TUO ANIMALE PREFERITO? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Il cane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;18) QUELLO DI CUI HAI PIù PAURA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Di non essere libero di fare quello che voglio&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;19) QUALE PERSONAGGIO TELEVISIVO NON SOPPORTI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Costanzo e quel topo di sua moglie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;) QUALE PROGRAMMA TELEVISIVO NON SOPPORTI?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Tutti quelli della De filippi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;21) ESISTONO GLI ALIENI? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Conoscete i miei amici?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;22) QUALE MATERIA ODI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;latino&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;23) IL TUO PROFESSORE PRErito? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Prosperi, sommovigo caldarone…la triade…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;24) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA TUA OSSESSIONE" st="on"&gt;LA TUA OSSESSIONE&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;? i &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;libri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;25) SPENDERESTI LO STIPENDIO IN: &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;(in realtà spendo lo stipendio in…) elettronica e libri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;26) STAI ASCOLTANDO &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA STESSA COSA" st="on"&gt;LA STESSA COSA&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; CHE ASCOLTAVI QUANDO TE L'HO CHIESTO &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA PRIMA VOLTA" st="on"&gt;LA PRIMA VOLTA&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;si&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;27) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA VACANZA PIU'" st="on"&gt;LA VACANZA PIU'&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; BELLA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;La prossima&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;28) &lt;st1:personname productid="LA FOTO PIU'" st="on"&gt;LA FOTO PIU'&lt;/st1:personname&gt; BELLA CHE HAI? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Mia figlioccia ad un anno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;29) COSA HAI MANGIATO OGGI A PRANZO? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Sono le sei di mattina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;30) HAI &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="MAI TRADITO" st="on"&gt;MAI TRADITO&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Quasi sempre dopo essere stato tradito la prima volta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;31) REGALO PIU' BELLO CHE HAI RICEVUTO O VORRESTI RICEVERE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Non amo particolarmente i regali&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;32) KE LIBRO LEGGI ORA? &lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Addio alle armi e il bambino coi petali in tasca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;33) LE PRIME PAROLE CHE TI VENGONO IN MENTE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Seeeenza seeenso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;34) &lt;st1:personname productid="LA VACANZA DEI" st="on"&gt;LA VACANZA DEI&lt;/st1:personname&gt; TUOI SOGNI?&lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;  Con la donna dei miei sogni&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;35) SEI LUNATICO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;No…si&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;36) UNA CITTA CHE VORRESTI VISITARE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Canicatti…ne parlano tutti ma nessuno sembra esserci mai stato&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;37) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA TELEFONATA PIU'" st="on"&gt;LA TELEFONATA PIU'&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; LUNGA CHE HAI FATTO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;12 secondi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;38) QUAL é¨ IL SOGNO CHE FAI PIU' SPESSO?&lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt; Devo correre ma sono stanco o non so dove andare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;39) QUAND'ERI PICCOLO,QUAL ERA IL TUO CARTONE PREFERITO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Non mi facevano guardare la tv&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;40) L'ULTIMO FILM VISTO AL CINEMA?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Spidaman 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:black;"  &gt;41) USI &lt;st1:personname productid="LA PENNA A" st="on"&gt;LA  PENNA A&lt;/st1:personname&gt; SFERA O A NCHIOSTRO LIQUIDO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;gel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:black;"  &gt;42) FANLISTING ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;non ho la minima idea di cosa sia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;43) DICI SPESSO PAROLACCE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:navy;"&gt;Cazzo se ne dico!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:black;"   &gt;44) COME PRENDI &lt;st1:personname productid="LA PIZZA DI" st="on"&gt;LA PIZZA DI&lt;/st1:personname&gt; SOLITO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"   &gt;  In faccia…da una donna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:black;"   &gt;45) &lt;st1:personname productid="LA FRASE CHE" st="on"&gt;LA FRASE CHE&lt;/st1:personname&gt; RIPETI PIU SPESSO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"   &gt;Seenza seeenso, che figata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;46) COS'è UN BACIO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; L’inizio e la fine di un rapporto sessuale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;47)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;COSA NON CAMBIERESTI DI TE?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Le mutande (attualmente sono arrivato ad una settimana)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;51) C'è UNA PERSONA IMPORTANTE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Sì, ma non ricordo chi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;52) HAI PERSO PUNTI SULLA PATENTE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;54) PREFERISCI RICORDARE O ESSERE RICORDATO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;vivere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;55) IL TUO PEGGIOR DIFETTO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;sono spesso fidanzato…con la persona sbagliata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;56) SE AVESSI UN POTERE SAREBBE?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Lanciare stelle filanti dal naso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;57) SE FOSSI UN ATTORE/ATTRICE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Sfigato come sono…fantozzi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;60) SI E' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="MAI REALIZZATO UN" st="on"&gt;MAI REALIZZATO UN&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; TUO SOGNO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Sì, acqua corrente per tutti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;61) HAI SORELLE E/O FRATELLI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Serena&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;62) QUAL'E' IL TUO FIORE PREFERITO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Il fiore del loto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;63) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="MAI FATTO SCHERZI" st="on"&gt;MAI FATTO SCHERZI&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; TELEFONICI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;64) UN PERSONAGGIO DEL PASSATO CHE VORRESTI INCONTRARE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Tutti i filosofi e i fisici del 900&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;65) TI PIACE STUDIARE STORIA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Interroga domani?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;66) CAMBIERESTI QUALCOSA DEL TUO PASSATO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;67) 'CARPE DIEM'? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;assolutamente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;68) DOVE SOFFRI DI PIù IL SOLLETICO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Sulla pianta dei piedi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;69) COSA TI METTE ALLEGRIA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Vedere davide ubriaco che mi passa un altro bicchiere di tequila&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;70) QUALE BAGNOSCHIUMA PREFERISCI? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Felce verde&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;71) L'OGGETTO PIU CARO CHE HAI PERSO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;RayBan….da collezione&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;72) SAI SUONARE QUALCHE STRUMENTO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;73) TI HANNO &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="MAI DEDICATO UNA" st="on"&gt;MAI  DEDICATO UNA&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; CANZONE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Vaffanculo…almeno un paio di volte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;74) QUAL E' IL TUO FRUTTO PREFERITO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;banana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;75) Metti il Burrocacao?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Se mi stanno per cadere le labbra dalla faccia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;76) HAI &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="MAI FATTO IL" st="on"&gt;MAI FATTO IL&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; BAGNO NUDO AL MARE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;certamente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;77) PORTI GLI OCCHIALI DA VISTA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;78) SEI INNAMORATO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Almeno due volte al giorno…prima e dopo i pasti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;79) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname style="font-family: verdana;" productid="LA PERSONA CHE" st="on"&gt;LA PERSONA CHE&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; PIU TI MANCA? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Le porto tutte con me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;80) CHI TI HA INVIATO QUESTO TEST?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt; Alessandro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;81) A CHI LO INVII? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Agli stessi che c’erano in segnature&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;82) VUOI CHE TI RISPONDANO? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;color:navy;"  &gt;Se proprio devan…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6748161006121040116?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6748161006121040116/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6748161006121040116' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6748161006121040116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6748161006121040116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/faq.html' title='FAQ'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7250889616693308044</id><published>2007-06-01T17:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T17:10:04.015+02:00</updated><title type='text'>if you don't like me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Let us burn one from end to end, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; And pass it over to me my friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Burn it long, we'll burn it slow, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; To light me up before I go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; If you don't like my fire, then don't come around, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; 'cause I'm gonna burn one down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Yes, I'm gonna burn one down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; My choice is what I choose to do, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; And if I'm causing no harm, it shouldn't bother you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Your choice is who you choose to be, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; And if you're causin' no harm, then you're alright with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; If you don't like my fire, then don't come around, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; 'cause I'm gonna burn one down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Yes, I'm gonna burn one down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Herb the gift from the earth, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; And what's from the earth is of the greatest worth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; So before you knock it try it first, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Oh, you'll see it's a blessing and not a curse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; If you don't like my fire, then don't come around, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; 'cause I'm gonna burn one down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt; Yes, I'm gonna burn one, oohhh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7250889616693308044?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7250889616693308044/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7250889616693308044' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7250889616693308044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7250889616693308044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/if-you-dont-like-me.html' title='if you don&apos;t like me...'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3663218018667535223</id><published>2007-06-01T09:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T10:11:12.256+02:00</updated><title type='text'>La collina del cipresso A.K.A. Insane in the brain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Venerdì mattina. Piove. Lacrime dal cielo. Pian piano mi risveglio. Macy Grey strilla in sottofondo. Il sax è soave. La vita come al solito scorre nelle vene. La senti entrare, lenta, ma grandiosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3663218018667535223?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3663218018667535223/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3663218018667535223' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3663218018667535223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3663218018667535223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/06/la-collina-del-cipresso-aka-insane-in.html' title='La collina del cipresso A.K.A. Insane in the brain'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7210992763371225931</id><published>2007-05-27T09:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T09:50:06.891+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Strade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Forse sta a pochi metri da me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Quello che cerco e vorrei trovare &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;La forza di fermarmi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Perchè sto già scappando mentre non riesco &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;A stringere più a fondo e ora che sto correndo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Vorrei che fossi con me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Che fossi qui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Sento a pochi metri da me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Quello che c'era e vorrei trovare &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;La forza di voltarmi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Perchè se stai svanendo io non ci riesco &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;A stringere più a fondo ora che sotto il mondo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Vorrei che tu fossi qui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="testo"&gt;Che fossi qui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7210992763371225931?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7210992763371225931/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7210992763371225931' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7210992763371225931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7210992763371225931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/strade.html' title='Strade'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2898260892915064868</id><published>2007-05-25T17:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T17:42:43.528+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Turkey, mon amour</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RlcDZnNq6KI/AAAAAAAAABw/ce4D_BQsPVw/s1600-h/ist2_1293571_turkish_coffee_pot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RlcDZnNq6KI/AAAAAAAAABw/ce4D_BQsPVw/s320/ist2_1293571_turkish_coffee_pot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068523644186716322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Come non dedicare un post al caffè più strano del mondo. Qui si mangia, non si beve il caffe. Filosofie diverse, ma non per questo deprecabili.&lt;br /&gt;Trascorre la vita in questo angolo del mondo, un pò sotto assedio a dir la verità nell'ultimo periodo, ma anche qui il mio mondo rotola. Sempre più sereno, sempre più tranquillo. Costruisco. Un pezzo per volta. Senza essere ingordo, trovo il mio spazio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Strade che si lasciano guidare forte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Poche parole piogge calde e buio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Tergicristalli e curve da drizzare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Strade che si lasciano dimenticare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Strade che si lasciano guidare forte (andare via così)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Poche parole piogge calde e buio (via così… via così)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Tergicristalli e curve da tremare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt; Strade che si lasciano dimenticare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2898260892915064868?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2898260892915064868/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2898260892915064868' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2898260892915064868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2898260892915064868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/turkey-mon-amour.html' title='Turkey, mon amour'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/RlcDZnNq6KI/AAAAAAAAABw/ce4D_BQsPVw/s72-c/ist2_1293571_turkish_coffee_pot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4685949976144503362</id><published>2007-05-18T17:32:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T17:34:05.506+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A lei</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Stanca, sembri solo stanca&lt;br /&gt;nella notte bianca&lt;br /&gt;d’indifferenza che&lt;br /&gt;parla mentre guida parla,&lt;br /&gt;seguitando parla&lt;br /&gt;fa il grande ed offre lui…&lt;br /&gt;e il giorno non c’è più.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Radio, voci tra i rumori,&lt;br /&gt;pausa idrocarburi&lt;br /&gt;e cessi luridi.&lt;br /&gt;E bere&lt;br /&gt;fondi di piacere&lt;br /&gt;in polvere e partire…&lt;br /&gt;è in vena ed offre lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE PER&lt;br /&gt;NOTTI A FAR FINTA CHE SAI VIVERE&lt;br /&gt;SCIOGLIERE SCORIE NEL VUOTO CHE C’È&lt;br /&gt;SENZA GUARDARE MAI SOTTO DI TE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luci, gente indifferente&lt;br /&gt;vortica nel niente,&lt;br /&gt;puoi sempre ridere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E stare, non ci vuoi più stare,&lt;br /&gt;forse vomitare&lt;br /&gt;che in fondo è facile…&lt;br /&gt;che è sempre facile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mani, chiede le tue mani,&lt;br /&gt;i tuoi discorsi strani&lt;br /&gt;non gli interessano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mani, tra le gambe mani,&lt;br /&gt;forse è già domani&lt;br /&gt;o è un altro attimo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE PER&lt;br /&gt;NOTTI A FAR FINTA CHE SAI VIVERE&lt;br /&gt;SCIOGLIERE SCORIE NEL VUOTO CHE C’È&lt;br /&gt;SENZA GUARDARE MAI SOTTO DI TE.&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE TE&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE TE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuori, scappi ed esci fuori,&lt;br /&gt;fuori dai rumori&lt;br /&gt;è notte limpida&lt;br /&gt;di stelle, tra le insegne stelle,&lt;br /&gt;di bambina stelle&lt;br /&gt;indifferenti...&lt;br /&gt;e scoppi a piangere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE PER&lt;br /&gt;NOTTI A FAR FINTA DI VIVERE&lt;br /&gt;SCIOGLIERE SCORIE NEL VUOTO CHE C’È&lt;br /&gt;SENZA GUARDARE MAI SOTTO DI TE.&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE TE&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE TE&lt;br /&gt;GIORNI A PERDERE TE &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4685949976144503362?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4685949976144503362/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4685949976144503362' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4685949976144503362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4685949976144503362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/lei.html' title='A lei'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6962910209556108202</id><published>2007-05-18T08:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T08:23:03.173+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A te</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Per il bambino che cammina nel mio cuore,&lt;br /&gt;ma non ha più le mie gambe.&lt;br /&gt;Che si meraviglia del mio mondo,&lt;br /&gt;ma non ha più i miei occhi.&lt;br /&gt;Che dorme affianco la notte,&lt;br /&gt;ma non condivide con me il letto.&lt;br /&gt;Che non conosce ancora il mio dolore,&lt;br /&gt;ma ha le stesse mie lacrime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Che ancora non c'è,&lt;br /&gt;ma che spero un giorno venga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6962910209556108202?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6962910209556108202/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6962910209556108202' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6962910209556108202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6962910209556108202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/te.html' title='A te'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2601290469939663733</id><published>2007-05-17T08:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T08:39:52.900+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I drawn my self insane</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rkv4rXNq6JI/AAAAAAAAABo/VHUtdGuFZxA/s1600-h/501647795_0a3c1ca1ba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rkv4rXNq6JI/AAAAAAAAABo/VHUtdGuFZxA/s320/501647795_0a3c1ca1ba.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065415629757671570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Giovedì mattina. Sono le sette e pochi minuti. I miei piedi sono là in fondo al letto, fuori dalle lenzuola, fanno fatica a stare fermi. Hanno guardato il loro papà accarezzare e baciare coscie, decisamente felici. Hanno danzato insieme al resto del corpo un balletto antico come l'uomo. Esausti si sono fermati ad accarezzare altri piedi. Ora sono elettrici, nel guardarmi sprecare tempo, nel sapermi deluso. Ma quanto vi amo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2601290469939663733?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2601290469939663733/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2601290469939663733' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2601290469939663733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2601290469939663733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-drawn-my-self-insane.html' title='I drawn my self insane'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rkv4rXNq6JI/AAAAAAAAABo/VHUtdGuFZxA/s72-c/501647795_0a3c1ca1ba.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5571481921237747388</id><published>2007-05-16T09:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T17:37:32.735+02:00</updated><title type='text'>De vitae</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Seduto sul terrazzo della vita osservo la mia città camminare lentamente. Il cielo sembra sanguinare trafitto da stiletti di luce, attraversando le poche nuvole che fermano lo sguardo. I pensieri diventano fluidi. Ricchi e colorati. Il vino nero che ricorda un compagno, mi sorride con mille sfumature. Sereno.&lt;br /&gt;Ricordo gli amici. Gli amori. Irrispettosi gli occhi vagano tra le persone sconosciute. Le sento camminare, le accarezzo di nascosto, me ne arricchisco. Torno al cielo, torno ad &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Addio alle Armi&lt;/span&gt;. Torno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Neri quei giorni che passano senza di te &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Quasi convinto che in fondo sia meglio così &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Allentare la presa per merito di &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Chi mi consola ed esorta alla rinuncia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ma la pelle rigetta quel sorriso che &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Trapiantato da bocche riverenti &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No, lo sai non funziona su di me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ostinato a ripetere tra i denti &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brucia ancora che prima o poi ritornerò &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Conservo di nascosto sempre lo stesso smalto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Non temere zeta reticoli on my mind &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Aspetterò il momento per un migliore slancio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GjR1gn1J1jU"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GjR1gn1J1jU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5571481921237747388?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5571481921237747388/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5571481921237747388' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5571481921237747388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5571481921237747388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/de-vitae.html' title='De vitae'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-8613823224178628108</id><published>2007-05-14T15:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T16:04:47.931+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Il cuore non danza</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Il cielo scorre alle mie spalle. Il tempo lo segue. La piccola finestra sulle colline del monferrato mi fa correre lontano nel tempo e nello spazio. Penso ai cambiamenti continui e repentini che la vita mi appiccica addosso. Tremo. In fondo li accolgo e decido io.&lt;br /&gt;L'immagine di un cane che mi fa le feste, non il mio. Piango. Felice di ciò che ho conosciuto. Triste di cosa ho dovuto tralasciare. Sento il vento sulle braccia, sul collo. Ne godo. Lo stato diventa febbricitante. La vita. Quanta ne entra, quanta ne esce. Cerco il mio pivot. Non esiste purtroppo. Anche il cuore giace inutilizzato da troppo tempo. Nessuno a cui consegnarlo. Nessuno a guardare i fiori sbocciare, le nuvole muoversi. E la vita continuare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't belong to you, &lt;br /&gt;you don't belong to me.&lt;br /&gt;But just an angel.&lt;br /&gt;not in my sky.&lt;br /&gt;no more in my sky.&lt;br /&gt;And I cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-8613823224178628108?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/8613823224178628108/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=8613823224178628108' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8613823224178628108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/8613823224178628108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/il-cuore-non-danza.html' title='Il cuore non danza'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7401771029370383667</id><published>2007-05-11T09:56:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T09:59:31.591+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pensieri di vita</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;    Uno degli aspetti più micidiale dell'attuale cultura, è di far credere che sia l'unica cultura... invece è semplicemente la peggiore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bèh gli esempi sono nel cuore di ognuno... per esempio il fatto che la gente vada a lavorare sei giorni alla settimana è la cosa più pezzente che si possa immaginare.&lt;br /&gt;            Come si fa a rubare la vita agli esseri umani in cambio del cibo, del letto, della macchinetta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Mentre fino ad ieri credevo che mi avessero fatto un piacere a darmi un lavoro, da oggi penso:&lt;br /&gt;"Pensa questi bastardi che mi stanno rubando l'unica vita che ho, perché non ne avrò un'altra,&lt;br /&gt;c'ho solo questa.. e loro mi fanno andare a lavorare 5 volte, 6 giorni alla settimana e mi lasciano un miserabile giorno.. per fare cosa? come si fa in un giorno a costruire la vita?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Allora, intanto uno non deve mettere i fiorellini alla finestra della cella della quale è prigioniero&lt;br /&gt;      perché sennò anche se un giorno la porta sarà aperta lui non vorrà uscire...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Deve sempre pensare, con una coscienza perfetta:&lt;br /&gt;"Questi stanno rubandomi la vita, in cambio di due milioni e mezzo al mese, bene che vada,&lt;br /&gt;mentre io sono un capolavoro il cui valore è inenarrabile"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non capisco perché un quadro di Van Gogh debba valere 77 miliardi e un essere umano mille euro al mese, bene che vada.&lt;br /&gt;        Secondo me, poi,  siccome c'è un parametro che, con le         nuove tecnologie, i profitti sono aumentati almeno 100 volte... e         allora il lavoro doveva diminuire almeno 10 volte! Invece no!         L'orario di lavoro è rimasto intatto. Oggi so che che mi stanno         rubando il bene più prezioso che mi è stato dato dalla         Natura. Pensa alla cosa più bella che la Natura propone, che         è quella di, mettiamo, di fare l'amore, no?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Immagina         che tu vivi in un sistema politico, economico e sociale dove         le persone sono obbligate, con quello che le sorveglia, a fare         l'amore otto ore al giorno... sarebbe una vera tortura... e quindi         perché non dovrebbe essere la stessa cosa per il lavoro che non         è certamente più gradevole di fare l'amore, no?! Per         esempio il fatto che la gente vada a lavorare sei giorni alla         settimana -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;certo c'ho il mitra alla nuca&lt;/span&gt;-  lo faccio, perché         faccio il discorso: "Meglio leccare il pavimento o morire?"&lt;br /&gt;"Meglio         leccare il pavimento" ma quello che è orrendo in questa         cultura è che "leccare il pavimento"  è diventata         addirittura una aspirazione, capisci?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Ma è mostruoso che         il tipo debba andare a lavorare 8 ore al giorno e debba essere pure         grato a chi gli fa leccare il pavimento, capisci?&lt;br /&gt;        Tutto         ciò è "oggettivamente" mostruoso, ma la dove la coscienza         produce coscienza, tutto ciò è "effettivamente"         mostruoso...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "SI VABBE' MA ORMAI E' IRREVERSIBILE LA SITUAZIONE"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Si, tu fai giustamente un discorso in difesa di chi ti opprire,         perché è il tipico dello schiavo, no?! Il vero         schiavo...il vero schiavo difende il padrone, mica lo combatte.         Perché         lo schiavo non è tanto quello che ha la catena al piede quanto         quello che non è più capace di immaginarsi la         libertà.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Ma rispetto a quello che tu mi hai detto adesso: quando Galileo ha         enunciato che era la Terra a girare intorno al Sole, ci         sarà sicuramente stato qualcuno come te, che gli avrà         detto:&lt;br /&gt;"Eh si! sono 22 secoli che tutti dicono che è il Sole che gira         intorno, mò arrivi te a dire questa stronzata... e come farai a         spiegarlo, a tutti gli esseri umani?" e lui: "Non è affar mio,         signori..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Allora         guarda, noi intanto ti caliamo in un pozzo e ti facciamo dire che         non è vero, così tutto torna nell'ordine delle cose"...         hai capito? Perché tutto l'Occidente vive in un'area di         beneficio perché sta rubando 8/10 dei beni del resto del Mondo.         Quindi non è che noi stiamo vivendo in un regime         politico capace di darci la televisione, la macchina,... no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        E' un sistema politico che sa rubare 8/10 a 3/4 di Mondo e da un pò di benessere a 1/4 di Mondo, che siamo noi...&lt;br /&gt;    quindi, signori miei, o ci si sveglia... o si fa finta di dormire... o bisogna accorgersi che siete tutti morti...&lt;/span&gt;                                                                                                                     &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7401771029370383667?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7401771029370383667/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7401771029370383667' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7401771029370383667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7401771029370383667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/pensieri-di-vita.html' title='Pensieri di vita'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-4457339783446148290</id><published>2007-05-09T15:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T15:23:43.442+02:00</updated><title type='text'>oh man, i dunno like!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; And now...the news:&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;The communist world is fallin apart&lt;br /&gt;The capitalists are just breakin hearts&lt;br /&gt;Money is the reason to be&lt;br /&gt;It makes me just wanna sing louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;A fine little girl is waitin for me&lt;br /&gt;But I ’m as bent as dostoevsky&lt;br /&gt;I think about the meaning of my life again&lt;br /&gt;And I have to sing louie louie again&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie oh baby&lt;br /&gt;I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;Let’s give it to’ em right now&lt;br /&gt;Oh man, I dunno like...health insurance&lt;br /&gt;The homeless &amp; world peace&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; aids &amp; education ... i’ m tryin to do right&lt;br /&gt;But. ..hey&lt;br /&gt;Life after bush &amp;amp; gorbachev&lt;br /&gt;The wall is down but something is lost&lt;br /&gt;Turn on the news it looks like a movie&lt;br /&gt;It makes me wanna sing louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Louie louie&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby I gotta go&lt;br /&gt;Let’s go  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-4457339783446148290?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/4457339783446148290/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=4457339783446148290' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4457339783446148290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/4457339783446148290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/oh-man-i-dunno-like.html' title='oh man, i dunno like!'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3115393520913044369</id><published>2007-05-07T09:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T09:57:06.180+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunedì mattina build 1.0</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;chiedilo al vento&lt;br /&gt;che sferza il suo lamento sulla ghiaia&lt;br /&gt;del viale del tramonto&lt;br /&gt;all' amaca gelata&lt;br /&gt;che ha perso il suo gazebo&lt;br /&gt;guaire alla stagione andata all'ombra&lt;br /&gt;del lampione san soucì&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;chiedilo alla porta&lt;br /&gt;alla guardarobiera nera&lt;br /&gt;e al suo romanzo rosa&lt;br /&gt;che sfoglia senza posa&lt;br /&gt;al saluto riverente&lt;br /&gt;del peruviano dondolante&lt;br /&gt;che china il capo al lustro&lt;br /&gt;della settima Polàr&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahi, permette signorina&lt;br /&gt;sono il re della cantina&lt;br /&gt;volteggio tutto crocco&lt;br /&gt;sotto i lumi&lt;br /&gt;dell'arco di San Rocco&lt;br /&gt;ma s'appoggi pure volentieri&lt;br /&gt;fino all'alba livida di bruma&lt;br /&gt;che ci asciuga e ci consuma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;è un sasso nella scarpa&lt;br /&gt;che punge il passo lento di bolero&lt;br /&gt;con l'amazzone straniera&lt;br /&gt;stringere per finta&lt;br /&gt;un'estranea cavaliera&lt;br /&gt;è il rito di ogni sera&lt;br /&gt;perso al caldo del pois di san soucì&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;è la Ramona che entra in campo&lt;br /&gt;e come una vaiassa a colpo grosso&lt;br /&gt;te la muove e te la squassa&lt;br /&gt;ha i tacchi alti e il culo basso&lt;br /&gt;la panza nuda e si dimena&lt;br /&gt;scuote la testa da invasata&lt;br /&gt;col consesso&lt;br /&gt;dell'amica sua fidata&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahi, permette signorina&lt;br /&gt;sono il re della cantina&lt;br /&gt;vampiro nella vigna&lt;br /&gt;sottrattor nella cucina&lt;br /&gt;son monarca e son boemio&lt;br /&gt;se questa è la miseria&lt;br /&gt;mi ci tuffo&lt;br /&gt;con dignità da rey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;è un indirizzo sul comò&lt;br /&gt;di unposto d'oltremare&lt;br /&gt;che è lontano&lt;br /&gt;solo prima d'arrivare&lt;br /&gt;partita sei partita&lt;br /&gt;e mi trovo ricacciato&lt;br /&gt;mio malgrado&lt;br /&gt;nel girone antico&lt;br /&gt;qui dannato&lt;br /&gt;tra gli inferi dei bar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Che cos'è l'amor&lt;br /&gt;è quello che rimane&lt;br /&gt;da spartirsi e litigarsi nel setaccio&lt;br /&gt;della penultima ora&lt;br /&gt;qualche Estèr da Ravarino&lt;br /&gt;mi permetto di salvare&lt;br /&gt;al suo destino&lt;br /&gt;dalla roulotte ghiacciata&lt;br /&gt;degli immigrati accesi&lt;br /&gt;della banda san soucì&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahi, permette signorina&lt;br /&gt;sono il re della cantina&lt;br /&gt;vampiro nella vigna&lt;br /&gt;sottrattor nella cucina&lt;br /&gt;Son monarca son boemio&lt;br /&gt;se questa è la miseria&lt;br /&gt;mi ci tuffo&lt;br /&gt;con dignità da rey&lt;br /&gt;Ahi, permette signorina&lt;br /&gt;sono il re della cantina&lt;br /&gt;volteggio tutto crocco&lt;br /&gt;sotto i lumi dell'arco di San Rocco&lt;br /&gt;Son monarca son boemio&lt;br /&gt;se questa è la miseria&lt;br /&gt;mi ci tuffo&lt;br /&gt;con dignità da rey&lt;/span&gt;        &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3115393520913044369?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3115393520913044369/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3115393520913044369' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3115393520913044369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3115393520913044369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/luned-mattina-build-10.html' title='Lunedì mattina build 1.0'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5927916695848054878</id><published>2007-05-03T15:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T15:59:57.379+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ho voglia di ferie v0.2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Way down Louisiana close to New Orleans,&lt;br /&gt;Way back up in the woods among the evergreens...&lt;br /&gt;There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,&lt;br /&gt;Where lived a country boy name of Johnny B. Goode...&lt;br /&gt;He never ever learned to read or write so well,&lt;br /&gt;But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Go Go&lt;br /&gt;Go Johnny Go&lt;br /&gt;Go Go&lt;br /&gt;Johny be good&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He use to carry his guitar in a gunny sack&lt;br /&gt;And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,&lt;br /&gt;Playing to the rhythm that the drivers made.&lt;br /&gt;People passing by would stop and say&lt;br /&gt;Oh my that little country boy could play&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;His mama told him someday he would be a man,&lt;br /&gt;And he would be the leader of a big old band.&lt;br /&gt;Many people coming from miles around&lt;br /&gt;To hear him play his music when the sun go down&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday his name would be in lights&lt;br /&gt;Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5927916695848054878?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5927916695848054878/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5927916695848054878' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5927916695848054878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5927916695848054878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/05/ho-voglia-di-ferie-v02.html' title='Ho voglia di ferie v0.2'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3377336995625427415</id><published>2007-04-22T18:06:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T18:06:50.738+02:00</updated><title type='text'>21 aprile</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Fermo. Un posto qualsiasi della Polonia. Presto nella mattina come direbbe un inglese. Troppo presto come direbbe un italiano. Nell’ipod Chriss Cornel grida sempre più. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Sono seduto da circa mezzora su una bobina di cavo, discretamente impolverata, senza ormai più sensibilità dalla cinta in giù. Poco importa. Di fronte ho una linea che dovrebbe produrre 22000 bottiglie l’ora; nell’ultima ne ha prodotte poco meno di cinquemila. Importa ancora meno. Continuo a fissare Iva, sempre che così si scriva il suo nome. Penso che anche questo tipo di iva si possa scaricare. Ne rido di gusto. Ogni tanto si avvicina e mi dice qualcosa di incomprensibile che per lei dovrebbe essere inglese. Grazie a Dio è nata con gli occhi azzuri e con il culo più bello che si sia mai avvicinato al mio inguine. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Stop. Anche, anzi soprattutto, le cose belle hanno una fine. Si avvicina il giorno del ritorno a casa, sempre che prima non debba fare un salto a Jerez. Le mie vacanze in cammino verso Santiago sono ormai saltate, da rimandare a data da destinarsi, ma meglio così; poco bisogno di meditare. Ora ho voglia di ritornare. Si ritornare. Verso il mio spazio, quello che con tanta fatica ho iniziato a ritagliarmi, fatto di preoccupazioni per quel vuoto che per ora è solamente abitazione. Forse si chiama stanchezza o bisogno di fermarsi per un po’. Le pile stanno nuovamente per finire. Tutto qui.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;In questo momento qualche migliaio di litri di succo di frutta banana e cocco, dodici mila per la precisione, stanno diligentemente uscendo da qualche decina di dosatori volumetrici per finire in tante bottiglie da un quarto di litro. Come soldatini si incanalano su dei nastri trasportatori, che dopo averle portate a vestire con una graziosissima etichetta, le spareranno a casa di qualcuno che ancora non sa come si fanno i succhi di frutta. Io da qualche anno li bevo solo in compagnia di superalcolici. Ma almeno questo io lo so.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;La macchina che dovrei far andare ha deciso che non gli sono simpatico. Da ormai qualche ora non escono due bottiglie due con lo stesso livello di liquido. Chiaramente non va. In qualche modo per martedì tutto deve essere perfetto. Ma non me ne preoccupo. Per ora continuo a far volatilizzare migliaia di euro al minuto al cliente. Poi aggiusterò tutto e mi fermerò. Già, fermo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3377336995625427415?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3377336995625427415/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3377336995625427415' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3377336995625427415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3377336995625427415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/04/21-aprile.html' title='21 aprile'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-7099060069097938984</id><published>2007-04-15T09:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T09:33:22.994+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy like sundey morning</title><content type='html'>9e34 di domenica mattina, almeno in questa parte del mondo. Sono sveglio da almeno tre ore, ho guardato l'ultima puntata della terza serie di lost, mi sono fatto la barba, la doccia, ho scritto un paio di righe. Ora sono davanti allo schermo del portatile in attesa che vengano le dieci. Dal media player Battisti grida nessun dolore. Già.&lt;br /&gt;E mi inaridivi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-7099060069097938984?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/7099060069097938984/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=7099060069097938984' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7099060069097938984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/7099060069097938984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/04/easy-like-sundey-morning.html' title='Easy like sundey morning'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6668348551392382880</id><published>2007-04-13T20:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T20:49:36.648+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Lake City</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sono seduto vicino al tavolino della mia stanza e per la prima volta a farmi compagnia non c'è una pinta di birra ma una tazza fumante di te. Da tre lunghi giorni sono completamente integralmente e anche forse stoicamente sobrio. Nessun tipo di alcol ha raggiunto la mia bocca, tolta una birretta che però posso anche considerare analcolica. Il mondo sembra riaprirsi nuovamente. A farmi da complice c'è una camera P.A.U.R.A. Vista sul lago in un comprensorio a dir poco fantastico. Non saranno ferie...ma poco ci manca. Vi lascio con una poesia, una foto del mio lavoro ed un bacio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt;C'è voglia di bianco, di trasparenza, di solarità, di limpidezza. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Di tornare ad un'infanzia spirituale. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Beati i puri di cuore&lt;/b&gt; perchè senza riserve sono aperti alla vita. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Non conoscono incrostazioni mentali. Bevono direttamente dalla sorgente. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; E' così difficile ritornare ad un valore dell'essere? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; E' così difficile rinunciare? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Nella cultura moderna sembra che la rinuncia rappresenti il medioevo, il castigo. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Un tempo si viveva la mancanza di qualcosa come uno stimolo per ottenerla. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Oggi non c'è tempo. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Si riceve tutto immediatamente. Informazioni, dati, cibo, amore. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; C'è bisogno di tornare alle origini per stare bene. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Perchè la purezza è funzionale allo star bene dell'uomo. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Oggi il benessere è malessere. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Ma la vera purezza è riempitiva perchè è libertà vera. Padronanza. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Non possedere e non essere posseduti. Non inquinamento. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; E come dice Richard Rohr, francescano americano, c'è il bisogno di ritornare ad &lt;b&gt; un Uomo Selvatico&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Non macho. Ma con un pieno compendio di energia maschile e femminile. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Un uomo libero ed equilibrato. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Integro nella sua umanità. Responsabile. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Un uomo innocente. Pieno. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Un uomo che non vuole possedere nessuno ma semplicemente accogliere. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Capace di donarsi. In grado di riappropiarsi della sua storia. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Capace di sacrificio. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Del resto attraverso il sacrificio si rende sacra la propria esistenza. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; E la si purifica. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Proprio per questo motivo il suo senso diventa positivo. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Solo il vigliacco ha paura di essere ciò che è. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt; Solo chi non gioca mai non sa giocare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rh_QlOO-FqI/AAAAAAAAABg/d1Ee6okpHtg/s1600-h/HPIM1044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rh_QlOO-FqI/AAAAAAAAABg/d1Ee6okpHtg/s320/HPIM1044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052986644827608738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6668348551392382880?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6668348551392382880/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6668348551392382880' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6668348551392382880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6668348551392382880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/04/sweet-lake-city.html' title='Sweet Lake City'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_m8SAUzIh_5s/Rh_QlOO-FqI/AAAAAAAAABg/d1Ee6okpHtg/s72-c/HPIM1044.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-5384691972193461647</id><published>2007-04-03T09:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T09:08:38.753+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Primavera!</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BpOrIlYPil4"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BpOrIlYPil4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's gonna take money&lt;br /&gt;A whole lotta spending money&lt;br /&gt;It's gonne take plenty of money&lt;br /&gt;To do it right child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take time&lt;br /&gt;A whole lot of precious time&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take patience and time, ummm&lt;br /&gt;To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it&lt;br /&gt;To do it right child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this time I know it's for real&lt;br /&gt;The feelings that I feel&lt;br /&gt;I know if I put my mind to it&lt;br /&gt;I know that I really can do it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;Set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;Set on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's gonna take money&lt;br /&gt;A whole lotta spending money&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take plenty of money&lt;br /&gt;To do it right child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take time&lt;br /&gt;A whole lot of precious time&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take patience and time, ummm&lt;br /&gt;To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it&lt;br /&gt;To do it right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind set on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this time I know it's for real&lt;br /&gt;The feelings that I feel&lt;br /&gt;I know if I put my mind to it&lt;br /&gt;I know that I really can do it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's gonna take money&lt;br /&gt;A whole lotta spending money&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take plenty of money&lt;br /&gt;To do it right child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take time&lt;br /&gt;A whole lot of precious time&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna take patience and time, ummm&lt;br /&gt;To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it&lt;br /&gt;To do it right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set on you&lt;br /&gt;Set on you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-5384691972193461647?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/5384691972193461647/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=5384691972193461647' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5384691972193461647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/5384691972193461647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/04/primavera.html' title='Primavera!'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3701993999696276361</id><published>2007-04-02T08:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T08:37:26.543+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lento il ballo. Così deve essere.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Un altro lunedì mattina. Un'acidità ben distribuita mi ricorda di bere di meno. Fisso il monitor con un vuoto sguardo, dovrei lavorare ma il massimo che mi riesce è scrivere un post. Tiro intanto le somme del weekend. Il risultato, non altissimo, mi lascia come al solito estraniato.&lt;br /&gt;Alla radio una ragazza di vent'anni racconta il suo desiderio irrealizzabile di avere un bimbo. Penso che vorrei piangere, il pensiero ora è come, al solito, molto, troppo, lontano dall'ufficio. Sparso. Vorrei essere in spiaggia, piedi nell'acqua, libro tra le mani. Vento e sole sulla faccia, nessun ricordo sul cuore, nessuna maschera da vestire. Io. Limitato e abbozzato. Ma io.&lt;br /&gt;La complessità della vita, le infinite espressioni della forma, le continue connessioni della sostanza. Stanco e impreparato. Mi sento inadeguato. In rincorsa, col fiatone, comunque cerco di capire, assimilare, ascoltare e scrivere. Ma il mondo non aspetta. Mi sforzo nell'idea che qualcosa da volere raggiungere esiste. Semplicemente non l'ho proprio trovato. Cose che avrei potuto ma non ho. Cose che anche se avessi avuto non mi avrebbero avuto. Stanco, sempre di più. Il movimento della vita. Ora ho mal di testa. Ma non riesco a piangere. Non è possibile.&lt;br /&gt;Sono ancora solo in ufficio. Un grido non proprio soffocato esce dal cuore e probabilmente anche dalla bocca. Scendo di un piano per cercare dell'acqua. Questo tipo di ricerche è sempre il più facile. L'obbiettivo è chiaro, il metodo pure. Trovata una bottiglietta qualsiasi risalgo le scale due gradini per volta. Corro verso qualcosa. Inutilmente la mia scrivania. Alla radio ora suona una bella canzone, controllo dalle finestre che non sia arrivato nessuno e ballo al centro della stanza. Sono io questo. Solo questo. Due lacrime scorrono sulle guance, libere. Ho ritagliato la mia spiaggia anche oggi, nessun libro, ma la musica, quella non mi ha mai lasciato. Sempre dentro al cuore.&lt;br /&gt;Ora non importa, la settimana è iniziata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3701993999696276361?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3701993999696276361/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3701993999696276361' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3701993999696276361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3701993999696276361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/04/lento-il-ballo-cos-deve-essere.html' title='Lento il ballo. Così deve essere.'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2535987040741080617</id><published>2007-03-30T16:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T16:26:15.657+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Il vizio del lettore</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Le cure lo sai, non esistono. Non ci ho mai creduto, perché la vita non me ne ha mai regalate. Leggo, scrivo e ascolto. Queste sono le panacee dei miei mali. Per un pò. Dopo poco il bisogno di vivere una nuova sensazione rientra dalla porta principale e non mi abbandona fino alla prossima malattia. E così mi consumo, giorno dopo giorno, nell'attesa di nuove ossessioni. Trent'anni su per giu, passati tutti allo stesso modo, seguendo, correndo, tirando somme che non tornano mai. Stanco, ma ci bevo su. Brindo con i miei fantasmi. Passo ad un altro libro. Scrivo un'altra frase su un foglio. Sto fuori dal tempo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2535987040741080617?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2535987040741080617/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2535987040741080617' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2535987040741080617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2535987040741080617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/03/il-vizio-del-lettore.html' title='Il vizio del lettore'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3614768993651937898</id><published>2007-03-26T09:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T12:37:28.542+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard like a Mondey morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ho un senso del ritmo spiccato.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho una buona voce.&lt;br /&gt;Ho una dicreta conoscenza musicale.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho tanti album come mi piacerebbe avere.&lt;br /&gt;Ho le caviglie grosse.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho una statura decente.&lt;br /&gt;Ho letto parecchi libri nell'ultimo periodo.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho letto abbastanza libri.&lt;br /&gt;Ho una curiosità viscerale per le persone.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho un buon rapporto con la mamma.&lt;br /&gt;Ho fame.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho sete.&lt;br /&gt;Ho una pera per pranzo.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho voglia di sbucciarla.&lt;br /&gt;Ho voglia di incontrare una buona persona.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho la capacità di riconoscere le buone persone.&lt;br /&gt;Ho le prime due serie di lost.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho idea di come andrà a finire lost.&lt;br /&gt;Ho pianto ieri notte.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho capito perchè.&lt;br /&gt;Ho una casa.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho abbastanza mobili.&lt;br /&gt;Ho un buon lavoro.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho il lavoro che vorrei.&lt;br /&gt;Ho girato parte del mondo.&lt;br /&gt;Non ho girato l'altra parte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3614768993651937898?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/3614768993651937898/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=3614768993651937898' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3614768993651937898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3614768993651937898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/03/hard-like-mondey-morning.html' title='Hard like a Mondey morning'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-2664502363808707434</id><published>2007-03-23T11:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T16:57:06.832+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mi fa piangere</title><content type='html'>&lt;div face="verdana" style="text-align: center;"&gt; everybody shake it&lt;br /&gt;time to be free amongst yourselves&lt;br /&gt;your mama told you to be discreet&lt;br /&gt;and keep your freak to yourself&lt;br /&gt;but your mama lied to you all this time&lt;br /&gt;she knows as well as you and I&lt;br /&gt;you've got to express what is taboo in you&lt;br /&gt;and share your freak with the rest of us&lt;br /&gt;cause it's a beautiful thang&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is my sexual revolution&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everybody shake it&lt;br /&gt;time to be free amongst yourselves&lt;br /&gt;your mama told you to be discreet&lt;br /&gt;and keep your freak to yourself&lt;br /&gt;but your mama lied to you all this time&lt;br /&gt;she knows as well as you and I&lt;br /&gt;you've got to express what is taboo in you&lt;br /&gt;and share your freak with the rest of us&lt;br /&gt;cause it's a beautiful thang&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is my sexual revolution&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everybody break it&lt;br /&gt;every rule every constriction&lt;br /&gt;my papa told me to be home by now&lt;br /&gt;but my party has just begun&lt;br /&gt;maybe he'll understand&lt;br /&gt;that I got to be&lt;br /&gt;to be the freak that god made me&lt;br /&gt;so many thangz I want to try&lt;br /&gt;got to do them before I die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is my sexual revolution&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so funkin' beautiful&lt;br /&gt;especially when I take my clothes off&lt;br /&gt;I'm so funkin' beautiful&lt;br /&gt;especially when I take my clothes off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sexual revolution&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;got to do them before I die&lt;br /&gt;got to do them before I die         &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-2664502363808707434?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/2664502363808707434/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=2664502363808707434' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2664502363808707434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/2664502363808707434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/03/ahhhla-gnanna.html' title='Mi fa piangere'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-6610009277364442596</id><published>2007-03-21T14:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T14:17:42.976+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sto casino della vita</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ho imparato... che la miglior aula del mondo è ai piedi di una persona anziana.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che quando sei innamorato, si vede.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che appena una persona mi dice, "Mi hai reso felice!", mi rende felice.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che avere un bambino addormentato fra le braccia è una delle cose del mondo che piu rendono sereni.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che essere gentili è piu importante dell'aver ragione.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che non bisognerebbe mai dire no ad un dono fatto da un bambino.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che posso sempre pregare per qualcuno, quando non ho la forza di aiutarlo in qualche altro modo.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che non importa quanto la vita richieda che tu sia serio...ognuno ha bisogno di un amico con cui divertirsi.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che talvolta tutto cio di cui uno ha bisogno è una mano da tenere ed un cuore da capire.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che semplici passeggiate con mio padre attorno all'isolato nelle notti d'estate quand'ero bambino, sarebbero stati miracoli per me da adulto.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che la vita è come un rotolo di carta igienica...piu ti avvicini alla fine, piu velocemente va via.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che dovremmo essere contenti per il fatto che Dio non ci dà tutto quel che gli chiediamo.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che i soldi non possono acquistare la classe.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che sono i piccoli avvenimenti giornalieri a fare la vita così spettacolare.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che sotto il duro guscio di ognuno c'è qualcuno che vuole essere apprezzato e amato.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che il Signore non ha fatto tutto ciò in un giorno solo. Cosa mi fa pensare che io potrei?&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che ignorare i fatti non cambia i fatti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che quando progetti di prenderti la rivincita su qualcuno, stai solo facendo in modo che quella persona continui a ferirti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che l'amore, non il tempo, guarisce tutte le ferite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che per me il modo piu semplice di crescere come persona è &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;circondarmi di gente piu abile di me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che ogni persona che incontri merita d'essere salutata con un sorriso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che non c'é niente di più dolce che dormire coi tuoi bambini e sentire il loro respiro sulle tue guance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che nessuno è perfetto, fino a quando non te ne innamori.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che la vita é dura, ma io sono piu duro.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che le opportunità non si perdono mai, qualcuno sfrutterà quelle che hai perso tu.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che se dai rifugio all'amarezza, la felicità attraccherà da qualche altra parte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ho imparato... che ognuno dovrebbe rendere le proprie parole soffici e tenere, perché domani potrebbe doverle mangiare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che un sorriso è un modo non costoso di valorizzare i tuoi sguardi.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che non posso scegliere come sentirmi, ma posso scegliere cosa farci.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che quando tua figlioccia tiene il tuo mignolo nel suo piccolo pugno, sei agganciato per tutta la vita.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che chiunque vuole vivere sulla vetta della montagna, tutta la felicita e la crescita si trovano mentre la si scala.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che è meglio dare consigli in due sole circostanze : quando sono richiesti e quando c'è pericolo di morte.&lt;br /&gt;Ho imparato... che meno tempo ci lavoro, più cose mi trovo fatte. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-6610009277364442596?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/feeds/6610009277364442596/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18526377&amp;postID=6610009277364442596' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6610009277364442596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/6610009277364442596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/03/sto-casino-della-vita.html' title='Sto casino della vita'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18526377.post-3008708211704375008</id><published>2007-03-20T16:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T16:49:37.960+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bianche righe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="testo"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We started living in an old house &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My ma gave birth and we were checking it out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was a baby boy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So we bought him a toy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was a ray gun &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And it was 1981 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We named him "Baby" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He had a toothache &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He started crying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It sounded like an earthquake &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It didn't last long &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Because I stopped it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I grabbed a rag doll &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And stuck some little pins in it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Now we're a family &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And we're alright now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We got some money and a little place &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To fight now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We don't know you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And we don't owe you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But if you see us around &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I got something else to show you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well it's easy when you don't know better &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You think it's sleazy? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then put it in a short letter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We keep warm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But there's just something wrong with you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just feel like you're the hardest button to button&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VpZePwr5SHI"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VpZePwr5SHI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18526377-3008708211704375008?l=insanebizio.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3008708211704375008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18526377/posts/default/3008708211704375008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://insanebizio.blogspot.com/2007/03/bianche-righe.html' title='Bianche righe'/><author><name>Fabrizio Giannone</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15703288944809931978</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.insanepixels.com/fgiannone/blog/bizio.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
