Day August 2, 2010. Missing three days Ypsigrock Festival 2010. The turning point. Lack of support rods 18 also under the stage. Things you probably should not know. Among a blasphemy and the other (hey rock'n'roll is) I look straight at Antonello. Vito. Salcazzo what is his real name, I was about to find out later by his wife, the Queen of Sheba, but the sweet queen has decided to keep the mystery, drowning in yet another beer at eight in the morning in San Foca. To be honest there are still all the pretty faces that make up the picture. Vito is a master at keeping the peace: red eyes, still wet, the voice is like a long groan, and finally only occasionally seems to lose the rhythm - so GRRRRRRRR her back, but with stuff like the carets above - Sant'Anna is there is no need to raise my voice. Vito gets the moments at San Foca each year, all there to hang from his bullshit, but you really do not know what you are all on his shoulders, for small. The thing that makes you stay dry all this is that it does not even know him. Are 14.30 and Monday, the sun will never know what it is far from Piazza Castello at that time. That's when I fired the first and Antonello about it for next year: never Ypsigrock. Hey folks, anyone who has never said this sentence has nothing to tell about Ypsi. Sure it has not nothing to tell and that's it. Mario is missing, as a good soldier is on a mission to glean at least something to go on. It turns out that the rods have somewhere to hold up tomatoes, I remain perplexed given the small local production of these valuable vegetables. It goes on for a while with a pair of tongs that chews a bit ', a key one for 17 and 22. After all three of us do not need anything else. Bent over a damn pin that can not bring himself to abandon his old seat, the sweat begins to fall down. The heat just does not let up, the front bar is across the trench, the shop will only open at 16.30. A drop is detached from the nose, is shattered by the metal stand that holds me, 17, and a pair of tubes "Innoccenti. Innocent and yet they were involved in. The drop breaks out and disappears in a flash. I fucking bastard. At the end of the stage to the seven has its own form. I believe in form, form is important. Take Celine, take discussions with Professor Y. It is with the shape the guy was forced to surrender, to pee on him. Ok, I told you, but all three of you who read this ever read Conversations with Professor Y? Meanwhile, the staff arrives, climb, descend, they think. Vito and I are in the sixth beer, Mario is no longer with us than with them. Morale is high, tomorrow they will reach the houses, beer, people, faces. If time remains to assemble the words, but what should be done at two that there is no one, not even ours. The bastards. Day 3 August. Morning, are nine and a half and it still says in my part of the morning. It seems very early for anything but the sun already sprayed with yellow across the square. My thoughts are mixed with shit that a dream upon waking, so I guess in a western movie series c background while the wooden door of the bar and split the window in front of the liquor. Could never be anything like that. I try to wake-up call to the Military, because there is no one in the square but there must be someone. A roar on the other side. He only understands that it will come. By midday only solo work: I am in a cycling race, there is a ride act, the morning is always gregarious. The heat will fuck your brain, it is to run the cables, at least that. I know perfectly well the program but I find myself to do it almost without thinking about it. Suddenly a female voice begins to scream: What the hell took you for authorization on my terrace? Shit is real, I ended up on the small terrace in front of the castle. But she is so kind, I will have to inform you daily during the festival of what was the day before. She tells me is rooting for us. Thank you, thank you. Cry on if you need it. The scene would require. U.S.. The loneliness of the square is what I most remain glued to the skin of this edition. A sense of strangeness stay with me from that moment on any issue. As if that we had dropped a condom between me and the square. Hundreds work to the festival from there to a couple of days, some do not even know them and they do not know me. Some I did not even want to know, unfortunately, others know them already. Meanwhile, the game is played elsewhere on the Internet, by email, by telephone calls and prayers in the street, which is not down now please. I am the stranger? Yet I have seen the growth of festivals throughout the year. Now I have it in my hands. Can not hear?
Day 4. We have now. Today's the day. Tonight should be all set. From tomorrow only bar. I like to occasionally stop at the intersection between the two staircases. Today for me is like looking at the index. This will involve the extensive use of red communist Pandino faded. It is to carry wooden boards, Jebe, various materials, various people. The work is now in place almost exclusively in having to go up and down the steps of the staircase with heavy things, I once even the infamous folding Ypsi. Beast capable of stopping any word in the mouth. Hell, now fit the writing. in recent days had cleared the Man with the decision: the writing is put on the small square next to the tower on the right. One because it is the place for less boredom, two for the way you made me say the word tower. It is important to the sound of words, half of what is said is based on the beauty of its sound. Then there's the white air. I'm going on a mission to the campsite. The relationship between the square and camping ... bales. There is to do the load of processes in San Foca In seven: now my team is deployed. Come back after the tragedy is consumed. There is a tall and robust, with a thick beard and dark. You see a lot around and always wears an angry face. I do not know her name, but often fiddles with the staff. His accent is Roman but uses the style of Milan. I do not like. I do not like the word for cock that is not put there. In a moment you think the staff, she began studying alternate locations. There's more people Only the staff, as if the writing was already there and faces from pictures they had already authorized. In short, the discussion becomes animated. As if the topic was cool. I jump, I take the straw Mario. One look and you do the usual shooting around us Vito, Visco, Nicola ... Already we know that tomorrow will be written next to the tower on the right. About two o'clock in the afternoon.
the evening meeting Dario "the rider reader": - As we began to Piazza Castello? demand excited.
- Everything is OK, it lacks very little. I reply with a stupid smile.
- Ah OK Gianfranco just told me that we are in deep shit.
Shit. I am calm, peaceful too. Everything is under control. Do not exchange a word with no. I am completely immersed in the festival. But I am a stranger, nothing but a stranger fucking timeless.
Feed from Ypsigrock.it 
0 comments:
Post a Comment