Festivus 2019

Box Seats at the Theatre, the Gentleman and the Lady (1909)

Félix Edouard Vallotton (December 28, 1865 – December 29, 1925)

Tuesday

EICMA 2019

“It's better to be king for a night, then schmuck for a lifetime!”

Shelter From The Storm - Bob Dylan (Blood On The Tracks - 1975)

Avvenne in un'altra vita, una vita di sudore e di sangue

quando nero era una virtù e la strada era piena di fango

io venivo dal deserto, una creatura senza forma

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

E se passassi ancora per quella strada, puoi stare sicuro

farei sempre del mio meglio per lei, su questo do la mia parola

in un mondo di morte con gli occhi d'acciaio e uomini che combattono per un posto al caldo

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Non una parola fu detta tra noi, poco fu il rischio implicato

tutto a quel punto era stato lasciato irrisolto

Prova ad immaginare un posto dove si è sempre al sicuro ed al caldo

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Ero bruciato dalla stanchezza, sepolto dalla grandinata

avvelenato nei rovi e stremato sul sentiero,

cacciato come un coccodrillo, devastato nel grano

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Improvvisamente mi voltai e lei era lì

con braccialetti d'argento ai polsi e fiori nei capelli

Venne verso di me con grande grazia e mi tolse la corona di spine

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Ora c'è un muro tra di noi, qualcosa è andato perso

io ho dato troppo per scontato, tutto mi si è complicato

Se solo penso che tutto cominciò in un mattino da tempo dimenticato

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Il deputato cammina su duri chiodi ed il predicatore scala una montagna

ma niente conta veramente è solo il fato che ha importanza

ed il becchino con un solo occhio soffia in un inutile corno

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Ho sentito neonati piangere con voce di colomba

e vecchi con i denti rotti attoniti senza amore

Capisco la tua domanda, uomo, si è senza speranza ed abbandonati?

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

In un piccolo villaggio sulla collina si sono giocati i miei vestiti

ho patteggiato per la salvezza e mi hanno dato una dose letale

Ho offerto in cambio la mia innocenza e sono stato ripagato con lo scherno

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Vivo in un paese straniero ma sto per attraversare il confine

la bellezza cammina sul filo del rasoio, un giorno la farò mia

Se solo potessi tornare indietro all'ora in cui Dio e lei nacquero

"Entra" - disse lei - "Ti darò riparo dalla tempesta"

Martha - Tom Waits (Closing Time - 1973)

Operator, number please, it's been so many years

Will she remember my old voice while I fight the tears

Hello, hello there, is this Martha, this is old Tom Frost

And I am calling long distance, don't worry about the cost

'Cause it's been forty years or more, now Martha please recall

Meet me out for coffee, where we'll talk about it all

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose

And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me

There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows

And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now, and you're much older too

How's your husband, and how's your kids, you know that I got married too

Lucky that you found someone to make you feel secure

'Cause we were all so young and foolish, now we are mature

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose

And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me

There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows

And we saved them for a rainy day

And I was always so impulsive, I guess that I still am

And all that really mattered then was that I was a man

I guess that our being together was never meant to be

And Martha, Martha, I love you, can't you see

And those were the days of roses, of poetry and prose

And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me

There was no tomorrows, we packed away our sorrows

And we saved them for a rainy day

And I remember quiet evenings, trembling close to you

... My baby don't care for high-tone places ...

!!!

My baby don't care for shows...

October 4

10/11/19

Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands - Bob Dylan

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times,

And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like

rhymes,

And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes,

Oh, who among them do they think could bury you?

With your pockets well protected at last,

And your streetcar visions which you place on the

grass,

And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass,

Who among them do they think could carry you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,

Should I leave them by your gate,

Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace,

And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace,

And your basement clothes and your hollow face,

Who among them can think he could outguess you?

With your silhouette when the sunlight dims

Into your eyes where the moonlight swims,

And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns,

Who among them would try to impress you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,

Should I leave them by your gate,

Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

The kings of Tyrus with their convict list

Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss,

And you wouldn't know it would happen like this,

But who among them really wants just to kiss you?

With your childhood flames on your midnight rug,

And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs,

And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs,

Who among them do you think could resist you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,

Should I leave them by your gate,

Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did

decide

To show you the dead angels that they used to hide.

But why did they pick you to sympathize with their

side?

How could they ever mistake you

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm,

But with the sea at your feet and the phony false

alarm,

And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your

arms,

How could they ever, ever persuade you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,

Should I leave them by your gate,

Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row,

And your magazine-husband who one day just had to

go,

And your gentleness now, which you just can't help

but show,

Who among them do you think would employ you?

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole

With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold,

And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul,

Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,

Should I leave them by your gate,

Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

Gordon Shumway

... ALF's body is covered with fur and he has a rippled snout, facial moles and eight stomachs. His heart (if he only has one) is apparently located in his right ear. He likes to burp and eat cats, and can whistle without opening his mouth. He had a best friend on his home planet named Malhar Naik. He has friends named Skip, Rick, Stella, and a girlfriend named Rhonda, all of whom also escaped the explosion. He attended high school for 122 years and was captain of a "Bouillabaisseball team", a game played on ice using seafood as a ball.

ALF is troublesome, sarcastic, slovenly and cynical, and sometimes puts himself at the risk of being discovered while perpetrating some of his often-unintentional pranks...

(en.wikipedia.org)

👍

Nel quartiere di Edo si usa una specie di cestino da pranzo intrecciato che viene adoperato un solo giorno nelle passeggiate primaverili. Al ritorno lo si getta via calpestandolo. 
La fine è importante per tutte le cose.

(Yamamoto Tsunetomo - Hagakure)

July 17

1776

We got game!

ventinovemaggio

Billy Joel

William Martin Joel (born May 9, 1949) is an American singer-songwriter, composer and pianist. Commonly nicknamed the "Piano Man", he has been making music since the 1960s, releasing popular albums throughout the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s. (wikipedia)

#BrèsA

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

...These boots are made for walking

And that's just what they'll do

One of these days these boots

Are gonna walk all over you

Yeah...

FujiBaldo

duemarzo

All The Way

When somebody loves you

It's no good unless he loves you, all the way

Happy to be near you 

When you need someone to cheer you, all the way

Taller than the tallest tree is

That's how it's got to go

Deeper than the deep blue see is

That's how deep it goes, if its real

When somebody needs you

It's no good unless she needs you, all the way

Through the good or lean years

And for all the in between years, come what may

Who knows where the road will lead us

Only a fool would say

If you'll let me love you

It's for sure I'm gonna love you

All the way, all the way

Who knows where the road will lead us

Only a fool would say

If you'll let me love you

It's for sure I'm gonna love you

All the way

All the way

Alle Otto Della Sera - RAI Radio 2

Nei suoi dieci anni di trasmissioni, Alle 8 Della Sera ha vinto sfide impossibili degne di un super eroe: raccontare alla radio sera dopo sera, gli ultimi quattro canti del Paradiso o il teorema di Fermat, la vita di Carlo Magno o le teorie sull'evoluzione di Darwin, il De bello Gallico di Giulio Cesare, la vita di Khomeini o quella di Karol Wojtyla... La regia dei cicli è stata curata da Angela Zamparelli, Giancarlo Simoncelli e Vittorio Attamante. Post produzione per il web a cura di Angela Zamparelli, Giancarlo Simoncelli e Giovanna Romano.

https://www.raiplayradio.it/programmi/alleottodellasera

Puntate:

Storia di Karol

La primavera di Praga

Io sono l'Altro

Greta Garbo

La vita avventurosa di Roberto Rossellini

10 Romanzi Romanzeschi

British Invasion

De Gasperi. Di Giulio Andreotti

Francesco Cossiga - La vita vissuta

Federico il Grande

Gengis Khan

Storie di Divi e di Film

20 Divi, 20 Film

Le Radici della Scienza

Lucio Dalla. Chi Rompe Paga

Mostri, Eroi e Principesse

Marco Polo, un mercante a Pechino

Alessandro Magno

La Società dei Ghetti

La Storia in Cucina

Giulio Cesare

Carlo V

Annibale

C'era una volta il mito

Socrate

Sparta e Atene

Carlo Magno

Napoleone

'The' Bello Gallico

'The' Bello Civili

Venti Imperatori Romani

L'Italia negli anni della Guerra Fredda

Ayatollah Khomeini

Il Mestiere dell'artista, da Giotto a Leonardo

Il Mestiere dell'artista, da Raffaello a Caravaggio

Van Gogh

Le origini dell'arte contemporanea

Darwin che storia!

Dalla Terra alla Luna

Einstein

Eduardo

10 Poeti italiani del '900

Giorgio Caproni

Anna Magnani

Vittorio De Sica

Federico Fellini

Paolo Conte

Eugenio Montale

Le Porte dei Sogni

Vite da Logico

Sex and the Polis

Attila

Aldo Moro

Scipione l'Africano

Alfred Hitchcock

Sergio Leone

Il mondo dopo l'11 settembre

1914