#piero ricci

[vague-bisexual-crimes]

Friday - “it is true I wished to escape; and so I wish still; is not this not lawful for all prisoners?”

Angel is putting here parents through it with the back and forth is then isn’t coming home now.

God she hates Mac so much <3

But my hand closes around something else instead. Jimmy’s knife.

I glance to one side at Rowan. He’s spaced out, staring into the air. Holding his guitar like a soldier with a gun against his chest. He looks worse than he has all week. Sometimes I look at Rowan and can’t remember what he used to look like. We were in primary school when we first met. We were placed next to each other in class and told to learn five facts about the person sitting next to you. All I remember about Rowan’s was that his favorite band was Duran Duran. All he remembers about mine was that I’d never broken a bone. He had rimless glasses and short tight curls. His jumper was way too big for him. As soon as we both learned that we each wanted to be in a band, we were best friends. The boy next to me no isn’t anything like that boy. Not bright-eyed and excited to tell me about the new guitar he got for his birthday. Not dragging me to the music block go show me he could play the bass line for a Vaccines song. No laughter. No wonder. We got hay we wanted in the end, though. Didn’t we? We wanted to be in a band. Hang on, hang on, I need a sec oh my god. I’d like to once again say THEYRE BEST FRIENDS!!! CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS!!!!! ALL THEY WANTED WAS TO BE IN A BAND!!!!!!! EVERYTHING THEY EVER WANTED AND IT COULDN’T BE WORSE!!!!!!!!!!! secondly, NO LAUGHTER. NO WONDER.

Thinking about how fast Rowan signs the contract where Jimmy and Lister hesitate. How he knows it’ll be worse, less time to do anything but the band, to see his family, his girlfriend, to have a life, but this is what he’s supposed to do, this is what will make them successful, and eventually it’ll get better.

I think I’m losing it. Going off the wall. Is this why celebrities eventually get addicted to drugs? Because it all gets a bit too much? Sometimes I think about taking drugs. Sometimes I think it might help. When I see Lister smoke and drink, I know it’s bad, but I understand why he does it. It’s so he doesn’t have to think. I hate thinking.

oh Lister :(

“Do you ever imagine what would happen if we just…ran away?” asks Lister suddenly. I glance at him. He’s looking at the window too. […] “I think about it all the time,” I say. RUN!!RUN!!RUN!!!!! GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lister you can’t be surprised when he climbs out the window you suggested climbing out the window and running away from your responsibilities. Jimmy meant business (is actively having a breakdown)

Do you ever wonder why Lister didn’t just follow Jimmy? Like I get it, he’s freaking out cause he didn’t think Jimmy was serious but man you could’ve just like followed him. Pretty easily.

I need to talk to Juliet. Jimmy will have to wait. I can message him on Twitter later. He’ll probably never see it anyway. Juliet is the priority today. I need to talk to her. I need to repair the mess I made. Nothing good ever comes from Twitter. Also, ANGEL YOU WERE SO CLOSE!!!!! YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE JULIET!!!!!

Angel is very enthusiastic about this, for some reason. I thought she’d be annoyed at having to go out of her way to give me back the knife. I didn’t think she’d still be a fan of me after seeing me have a meltdown yesterday. They don’t like seeing you sad.

Another group appear—boys and girls. A woman and her daughter. A group of men in their twenties. I just start posing for selfies. Like it’s a fucking reflex. I can’t just leave. I can’t just say no. I get it, but you actually can and frankly I think you should start being mean to them 🤷‍♀️

Jimmy clinging to the sleeve of Angel’s hoodie like a child. Angel taking care of the main part of the thing that has given her a will to live for the past five years. :(

Jimmy, you’re already taking her to your grandad’s house I don’t think telling her the address is going to give away the location.

Personally I love Angel’s Jimmy’s gonna murder her bit. Jimmy just doesn’t get it

I can’t with Jimmy’s family. I NEED to know about his relationship with his sister desperately.

I go to the front of the pews and sit, and for the first time in weeks, months, I don’t know how long, reach out to God. He’s waiting. He always is. No matter how long I go, no matter how shit it all gets, at least I have one or two things waiting for me. God doesn’t care whether I have one pound or one hundred million. God doesn’t care if I make a mistake, if I fuck yo again and again and again. God asks me, “How are you?” and I just start crying. I try to be white but I can hear my sniffs echoing from the stone walls. God says, “Say something,” and I tell Him that u don’t know what to say, and He says, “Anything you’ve got.” But I just cry some more. God tells me, “Everything that happens is making you stronger,” and I want to believe Him but I can’t. “I love you anyway,” He tells me. At least someone does.

I decide to stop and visit my grandmas grave. The gravestone still looks relatively new compared to the huge old stones around it, despite it being over five years old now. Grandma didn’t see any of this band shit happen to me. For some reason, that makes me glad. Joan :’(

Joan of Arc :(( Joan Ricci :(((( his grandma :(((((((

Piero isn’t buying any of this bs

“You would give your lives for these boys. You cling to them like you’re reaching out to a god. They practically keep you alive. But beneath that, and if you took all that away, you fundamentally do not value yourself.” He sighs. “All your love is given away. You leave nothing for yourself.” “I—I don’t think we’re all like that,” I stammer. “But I think you are,” says Piero, looking directly at me. SHOTS FIRED!!!

“I know he asked you for help,” says Piero, “but the trouble is, while asking for help is always good, it’s impossible to keep relying on others to solve your problems for you. There comes a point where you have to help yourself. Believe in yourself. “Are you talking about Jimmy or are you talking about me?” I say. He smiles and says, “You tell me.”

I’ve done something stupid, coming here. Just to have a little cry on my grandad’s shoulder. My own little pity party. He done something even more stupid, asking some fangirl to come with me, just because people on trains scare me and I thought she was a nice person. But there is one thing I am sure of. One thing I know is the right decision now. Not stupid. Not sad. Not pitiful. I’m freeing myself I’m leaving The Ark. !!! GO JIMMY GO!!!!!!!

[raspberry-arev]

Working on it

[bg-i-write-alright]

Piero Ricci is everything I want to be as an elderly person.

1. Welcoming strangers that show up on his doorstep and providing them tea and food.

2. Creating a safe place for young people to grow creatively and providing wise counsel.

3. Giving at least one knife to a teenager.

Honestly, goals

[phoebosacerales]

Algol and Perseus

The rescuer and the demon

Sebastiano Ricci Antonio Canova

Algol is the beta star of the constellation Perseus, currently sitting at 26° Taurus, known as “the demon star” or "blinking demon", its name comes from the arabic Al Ghul meaning "the demon". To hellenistic astrology it represents Medusa’s head, which Perseus holds on one hand, while on the other he has his sword. An important characteristic of Algol is that its glow has a regular variation, it loses half of its brightness for hours and then it gains back. It was believed by astrologers to be an eclipsing star, which means that another non-visible body would be orbiting it and therefore eclipsing its light from time to time. They were half right, because it was later discovered to be an eclipsing star system, and that Algol was actually 3 stars, just like the Gorgon sisters are three: the imortals Stheno and Euryale, and the mortal Medusa. This is such a hallmark of Algol that it gave its name to its class of eclipsing variable: Algol variable.

Eclipses are associated with death, basically because light in astrology is life-giving, and loss of light is death. But it’s interesting that it's frequently associated with the "demonic", capital punishment and decapitation. Algol is telling a story about the decapitation of a “demon”, just like the lunar nodes (Rahu and Ketu) do in the Jyotish tradition when they cause eclipses. Ptolemy only tells us that the constellation of Perseus is like Jupiter and Saturn. Although Robson agrees with Agrippa about Algol specifically being of the nature of Saturn-Jupiter, and “the most evil star in the heavens”, causing a lot of fear whenever we see it activated in a chart. But I’m not here to scare anybody, don’t worry. It’s difficult, but I’ll try to lighten this up, because the most overlooked fact about Algol is that it also protects and can make revolutions and revolutionary heros.

"Perseus is like Jupiter and Saturn: but the nebula, in the hilt of the sword, is like Mars and Mercury." (Ptolemy - Tetrabiblos) "It causes misfortune, violence, decapitation, hanging, electrocution and mob violence, and gives a dogged and violent nature that causes death to the native or others. It is the most evil star in the heavens" (Vivian E. Robson - The Fixed Stars and Constellations in Astrology)

Illustrations from Al-Sūfī's book of fixed stars

Eletrocution or electrical problems are an issue with eclipses and apparently also eclipsing star-systems like Algol. This is noted by Christopher Warnock about his Algol talismans:

"I have had multiple reports and have myself experienced Algol’s tendency to cause electrical and electronic interference when the talisman is first used.  I mysteriously lost my Internet connection for an hour and my electronic thermostat died.  One user had his entire block lose power.  Less frequently but still regularly clients have reported that while wearing their Algol talisman, “weird” or “freaky” people took one look at them and fled." (Christopher Warnock - Fixed star, Sign and Constellation Magic)

Other one of its proeminent themes is vengeance, or the dichotomy of justice vs vengeance, but the effect of reflecting back evil that's sent towards its direction, or of ending curses describes it better in my opinion. About the images of the fixed Behenian stars, Agrippa says that:

“Under Caput Algol, they made an image whose figure was the head of a man with a long beard, having a bloody neck. This brought the good outcome of petitions, gave the bearer boldness and nobility, preserved members of the body from injury, helped against sorceries, and reflected evil attempts and evil incantations from enemies”. (Agrippa's Three Books of Occult Philosophy - Eric Purdue's translation)

Piero di Cosimo

This protection side of the star is illustrated by the story of the champion Perseus not just decapitating the demon but using its head to free Andromeda from her chains and saving her and her city from another monster, and then Athena herself starts using the head of Medusa as a symbol on her shield. As established, this is a star of the nature of Jupiter and Saturn. The nature of Saturn is evidenced even by the names given to the star: demon, cacodaemon, which is also the greek name for the 12th house. Imprisonment, monstruosity and madness are clearly the most important Saturn and 12th house themes. But Algol is a protective star, particularly in astrological magic, although I'll show how this kinda manifests in nativities as well. Algol is mainly of a jupiterian nature, that's why it does liberates. The head is an evil daemon but also a protection amulet. This is interesting regarding the eclipsing factor and the similarity of the significations with the Jyotish Rahu and Ketu. In western astrology the nodes are considered to have effects like Jupiter and Saturn, and the topic of imprisonment-liberation is explored in the dynamic of the two*.

With the new interpretations of the Medusa myth, some astrologers say that Algol can be about "female rage" or "dark feminine", or "feminine jealousy" etc. I think this is one of the stories that people mix the astrological meaning with the morality of the greek myth associated with the star the most. The greek myth is not really the star and the star is not the greek myth. In my opinion, you always must take into consideration that some things can be just the way the greeks or romans viewed a certain theme, and of course they would put a violated woman to represent a monster on a mindless vendetta, and it's not meant to be complimentary. I believe that's already way beyond Algol's effects, it could be just their misogyny projected onto the stars. I can think of examples where I can see that kind of story taking place, but that doesn’t mean that the star is about those things, but just that this is one possibility because we live in patriarchy and things around women's issues can get ugly in an Algol manner. The star can be about capital punishment, monstruosity, madness, captivity, violation, injustice, vengeance, evil daemonic influences etc, but it's not really about cishet women. So, even though I’m also using the greek myth here, I’m not giving the most importance to the detail that it is a story about a woman receiving unfair punishment and that there's a lack of comradery between women, because I'm interested in the star beyond what greeks and romans said, because the stars can’t be represented by just one hegemonic narrative. A lot of other cultures had their different stories about Algol, the Medusa one isn’t special to the point that we could assume every detail about it, even its moral issues (which are also in this case suffering a bit from anachronism), has meaning for the star associated.

Perseus is a spring time constellation very near the bull (taurus), and that may sound too nice for such a scary one. But in babylonian astrology, the stars of Perseus actually formed the constellation of the Old Man, who also held a decapitated head and a rod instead of a sword. Of it, Gavin White has an interesting perspective to share:

“At this time of natural abundance, the earth was thought to ‘open up’ in order to yield her bounty, but to the archaic mind this opening up was accompanied by a host of dangers, chief of which was the potential pollution from the dead who could gain easy access to the upper worlds at this pivotal time. In light of this belief, I would suggest that the Old Man, with his wand and prophylactic head, is banishing the ghosts of the old year and driving them back to the underworld.”

Illutration from Gavin White's Babylonian Star-Lore

There's a lot of examples of charts for literal decapitation or capital punishment, injuries to the head or neck area as obvious manifestations of the star: The most famous is probably the catholic Saint George, who is said to have been executed by decapitation on April 23 back when that was the time of year when the Sun would conjunct Algol, and he later became associated with the constellation. Back then, Algol was at 2° Taurus. Gianni Versace, who had Algol on the descendant, famously made Medusa the logo of his brand and also died with a bullet to the head. Freud had Mercury with Algol, his 8th house ruler, and he died with throat cancer. Nick Yarris, who spent two decades on death row after he was wrongfully convicted of murder, has the Sun with Algol. Patrick Henry had Jupiter, and he was a murderer whose case influenced the abolition of the death penalty in France, which was done by the method of guillotine until its abolition. He was defended by Robert Badinter, who was an activist against the death penalty and could sucessfully propose its abolition in 1981. Badinter has Jupiter with the alpha of Andromeda in the first house. France has a thing with decapitation, some of the charts for its republics have either Algol or Mirfak activated, the alpha star of Perseus.

Algol and Madness

But I want to talk about Algol's special relationship with madness, in the demonized/criminalized sense, because after all, "the demon" is unwanted, it frequently represents the marginalized and their opression. In Brazil's history, especially during the military dictatorship organized and imposed by usamerican capitalist imperialism, asylums imprisoned and tortured mainly black people, women and queer people. Some asylums got so overwhelmed that they became concentration camps, like the famous case of Hospital Colônia in Barbacena, known as the Brazilian Holocaust case, where people died by the thousands from starvation, hypothermia, anemia, STI's, untreated diseases from the lack of hygiene etc. Some important psychiatrists, psychologists, psychoanalysts have Algol activated by some planet. Freud has Mercury, Fritz Perls has Jupiter, David Healy, who literally has a book titled "The Decapitation of Care", has Venus. But what's more interesting to me is the protection element of Algol in some cases and its role in mad liberation movements, after all, Perseus is a liberator. Algol shows up in very important people in the pysch field who question medical power and have antipsych views, and on important events of the psychiatric reform.

Hospital Colônia de Barbacena - MG

Franco Basaglia, the main responsible for the dismantling of psychiatric hospitals and for the psychiatric reform in Italy and for inspiring the one in Brazil, had the Moon with Algol in the 10th house, representing his deeds, while ruling the 12th. In Italy, the Law 180 (Basaglia Law), the Psychiatric Reform law that determined the progressive extinction of asylums throughout the italian territory, was sanctioned with the Sun on Algol. In Brazil, on May 18, 1987, the exact day of the year that the Sun conjuncts Algol, a meeting of mental health workers at a conference was the major milestone for Brazilian health reform and the anti-asylum movement. And since that event, May 18th has become our national anti-asylum movement day, and it becomes more and more culturally relevant as a day to discuss psychiatric reform and the fight to guarantee the rights and autonomy of mental patients.

Marches on May 18th

An important activist, Austregésilo Bueno, born with the Sun with Algol, survivor of compulsory hospitalization in asylums in the 70s, wrote a book "Canto dos Malditos" about his horrible experiences as a psychiatric patient treated with eletroshock therapy (another one of Algol's effects). He had his book adapted to film and his story played by the actor Rodrigo Santoro, who has Algol on the Ascendant. The name of the film is Brainstorm in English, but I find the original "Bicho de Sete Cabeças" much more compelling. It's a truly devastating story, and it's the story of thousands unfortunately.

One thing about Saturn and madness is the recurring idea of wearing masks. Masks and theatre have always been associated with Saturn. Saturnalia was a roman festival where all the roles switched, where kings pretended to be fools and fools pretended to be kings. In modern astrology Saturn ended up associated a lot with a raw and harsh reality, disregarding the most mystical and unreal characteristics of Saturn that have always been present. Although life, reality, identity and reason are always a performance, we're always wearing a mask and performing life. There's a point in the movie "Bicho de Sete Cabeças" when the protagonist is having a difficult time on his first days of being an inmate, he's fighting too much against the forced treatment and expressing too much unsatisfaction with his imprisonment, thus getting even more forcebly medicated and punished by the staff. At this point one of the older inmates shares an important advice with him:

"You have to pretend, who in this world doesn't pretend? You have to say that you're in a good mood, you have to say that you're not hungry, you have to say that you don't have a toothache, you have to say that you're not afraid, otherwise you can't do it, you can't do it. No doctor ever told me that hunger and poverty can lead to mental disorders, but those who don't eat become nervous, those who don't eat and see their family go without eating can go crazy, a discontentment can lead to madness, a death in the family, the abandonment of the great love. We even need to pretend to be insane when we're insane, pretend to be a poet when we're a poet."

It's a powerful speech about the farce of medicine's ownership over the subject of madness, the farce of reason and that it must subjugate or dominate madness. Pretending and acting out the platonic ideal behavior at all situations under all circumstances, as if it's normal, that's the only way anyone is seen as sane.

Bicho de Sete Cabeças (2000)

Another important date in brazillian history is the 13th of May 1888, the day of the passing of the law that abolished slavery, which also had Algol activated by the Sun. This was obviously not the definite end of slavery and not the end of the struggle of black brazilians, just like the Basaglia Law didn't mean mad liberation, but I'm just demonstrating how powerful Algol is to protect from evil and put an end to injustice in an official and legislative manner. Like Saint George defeating the dragon, Perseus defeats a monster that is impossible to defeat, the "impossible victory" and liberation is recurrent in the stories linked to it. Systemic opression and injustices a lot of times seem like impossible problems, it becomes harder and harder to imagine a world where they don't exist, but Algol events revolutionize the impossible.

"The important thing is that we have proven that the impossible becomes possible. Ten, fifteen, twenty years ago it was unthinkable that a mental hospital could be destroyed. Maybe mental hospitals will return to being closed and more closed than before, I don't know, but in any case we have demonstrated that the mad can be cared for in another way, and testimony is fundamental. I don't think that the fact that an action manages to energize itself means that it has been won. The important point is another, it is that now we know what can be done." (Franco Basaglia - Conferenze brasiliane)

An important honorable mention should be made to Carlos Marighella, a guerrilheiro in the resistance of the brazilian military dictatorship who was executed before he could see our democratization. He had Mars with Algol.

"The urban guerrilheiro is an implacable enemy of the government and inflicts systematic harm on authorities and men who dominate and exercise power. The main work of the urban guerrilheiro is to distract, tire and demoralize the military, the military dictatorship and repressive forces, and also attack and destroy the wealth of north americans, foreign managers, and the Brazilian upper class. But the fundamental and decisive characteristic of the urban guerrilheiro is that he is a man who fights with weapons; given this condition, there is little chance that he will be able to pursue his normal profession for a long time or the reference of the class struggle, since it is inevitable and necessarily expected, the armed conflict of urban guerrilla against the essential objectives: A. The physical extermination of the leaders and assistants of the armed forces and the police. B. The expropriation of government resources and those who belong to the big capitalists, landowners, and imperialists, with small expropriations used to maintain the individual urban guerrilheiro and large expropriations for the support of the same revolution. (Carlos Marighella - Manual do Guerrilheiro Urbano)

Algol in Cannes

Lunga in Bacurau (2019), the first queer Perseus I know. The actor Silvero Pereira has Venus on Algol.

I’ve said here before how much I love Bacurau. The movie premiered in Cannes, on May 15, 2019, at 10 pm**. This is a chart full of fixed stars, with the Sun with Algol in the 6th house. You'll find in the film the Algol classic of extreme injustice being overcome. But one curious thing is that the Cannes Film Festival always happens around the same time of year when the Sun is at the last degrees of Taurus and beginning of Gemini, making a lot of the movies premiered at Cannes have Algol activated. And it shows. It’s a great opportunity to watch how varied the Algol themes can be. On that same year of 2019, they had: THE DEAD DON’T DIE by JIM JARMUSCH, a pretty obvious Algol movie about zombies, whom you defeat by cutting off the head, of course; LES MISÉRABLES by LADJ LY, inspired by a real-life event of police violence that inspired the 2005 riots in Paris, it seems to have a very radicalized discourse about raging against violent injustices; ATLANTIQUE (ATLANTICS) by MATI DIOP has dead unpaid workers coming back as spirits possessing their city’s inhabitants to take vengeance on the tycoon who withheld their payment; LITTLE JOE by JESSICA HAUSNER is a film about a lab created flower that alters people's behavior in strange ways, and these last two kinda have the feeling of that "spring danger" Gavin White talks about. DOLOR Y GLORIA (PAIN AND GLORY) by PEDRO ALMODÓVAR has Antonio Banderas as the protagonist who develops dysphagia, caused by a caucified growth in his neck. Etc. And these are all just some of the 2019 films. I haven't watched most of them, but you can always look for the films which had their first screenings around 14-20 of May and they'll be rich in Algol content.

So, I'll leave you with that: a bunch of movie recommendations. Thank you for reading.

--

*Adam Elenbaas has my favorite content on the subject of the nodes or Rahu-Ketu.

** You can research the screening guide for an edition to find the time.

[a-tiny-sloth]

imagine being piero ricci... just spending a chill weekend and suddenly one teenager after the other shows up at your house, clown car style

[listerbirdloml]

The Death of Your Dog, The Stretch of Our Skin.

Summary: At fourteen, Rowan's dog died. At fifteen, Jimmy's grandmother died. And now, at twenty, Lister has lost his father.

Characters: Alister 'Lister' Bird, Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Rowan Omondi, Piero Ricci, Chiara Ricci, Graham Duncan, Mention of Cecily Wills and Louise Bird.

Warnings: Death of an animal, grief, self effacing thoughts, strong language, minor violence, someone says the wh*re word, someone also tries to say a racial slur but they do not manage to.

Ships: Bicci kiss teehee

Word Count: 4.6k

just a little thing I wrote about the ark boys comforting one another through different types of grief. PLEASE BE KIND IVE NEVER PUBLISHED ANY WRITING BEFORE LMAO

Tilly Omondi.

When they were fourteen, Rowans dog died. 

It had been a truly unremarkable day at school. They played in the music room, ate their lunch, attended their afternoon lessons, and then walked to Rowans. He had the better gaming system out of him and Jimmy, and he even had the new Red Dead Redemption game. He’d gotten his mum to buy it the day it came out, and now they were all excited to see how it was. Especially Lister, since he didn’t have a play station or anything of his own.

As they walked down the road to Rowans, conversation flew freely among them. Per usual, it was dominated by Lister and whatever random topic entered his mind. Jimmy was content to sit back and listen, chipping in whenever he thought of something relevant to say. Meanwhile, Rowan was more than happy to shut down particularly stupid conversations Lister started or rise up to the challenge whenever Lister turned to teasing him. 

When they arrived at Rowans home, the three boys began untying their show laces and shucking off their winter coats. It wasn’t exactly freezing anymore, but it was cold enough for the jackets to still shelter them from the Kent winds. Earlier in the winter, Rowan noticed Listers coat wasn’t the warmest, so he’d given him one of his own under the guise of wanting to get rid of it.

When Rowan opened the door, the lack of four legs bounding towards them was immediately noticeable. Tilly, the Omondi family dog, was a little white Jack Russell with the sweetest of nature. She was a lap dog at heart, rarely barking. She was always found greeting anyone who entered their home at the door, her little tail wagging while she waited to be greeted in return.

"Mum?" Rowan called out pensively, thinking perhaps she’d taken an impromptu walk with the little dog. There was noise from the kitchen, as though someone was startled at the idea of Rowan being home at the time he was.

"Hi sweetheart." Came the call from Rowans mother, but she didn’t leave the kitchen. Lister thought he could hear a waver in her voice. But then again, he was starting to believe he was hardwired to detect the negative emotions people portrayed. even if they weren’t there. "Uh, Ro, can you come to the kitchen, please?" Rowan glanced at his two friends who waited in the doorway, all three clearly confused. With a gesture signalling the other two to wait, Rowan headed down the hallway and disappeared into his kitchen.

Standing just the two of them, Lister suddenly ran out of words. He was entirely focused on a loose thread in his school shirt, and Jimmy was too nervous to start a conversation himself. If it wasn’t in band practise or their shared history lesson, Jimmy found it difficult to talk with Lister. He found the other equally intimidating as he was admirable.

The blonde had definitely made huge progress with his confidence around the two friends, but deep down he was still pretty shy. He still held the fear that he was only there because he knew how to play the drums. He was a friend of convenience until Jimmy and Rowan could afford another drummer or even meet a better one. A drummer who wasn’t self-taught like he was, someone who could actually afford the lessons needed to become successful. While he still had these fears and and worries, he had begun to use them for the better. He was worried about being replaced in their band, and so he practised as hard as possible. He was worried about being replaced in their lives, and so he made as big a space for himself as he could. A space big enough that they would sorely miss him should he leave it.

"So uh-" Biting the bullet, Lister had gone to say something. But as he did, Rowan reappeared down the hallway, shoulders slumped, and face a mixture of shock and tears. All trace of nerves or awkwardness had immediately subsided from the two left in the hallway, both meeting Rowan half way. Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder, his own face contorted with worry. Lister didn’t doubt that Jimmy had thought up every single worst-case scenario he could.

"Tilly died."

There were two sharp inhales, and then silence.

Neither seemed particularly sure how to continue, but they both knew that their friend needed them. And so in a fluid motion, Lister and Jimmy had wrapped Rowan in a big group hug, pretending not to notice the way his body was wracked with sobs.

"There was a- a car." Rowans explanation was met with shushes. Lister knew that talking about it more would just upset Rowan, and he had plenty of time in the upcoming days to process the loss. Right now, he was allowed to just feel it. Feel it, with the safety of his two closest friends.

They stood in the Omondi garden, with Lister on one side of Rowan and Jimmy on the other. They both had a head leaning on Rowans shoulders, arms around his middle as he cried. His mother and sister had cried too, but nowhere near as much as Rowan. He had always been particularly close to the little dog.

His dad had just rested Tilly in the ground and let Rowan lay her favourite toys and treats with her before he began to refill the dirt.

Lister had never been to a funeral. Neither had Jimmy.

When Lister was ten, his grandmother on his dad's side passed away. Even though he had been very close with her, his dad didn’t want him at the funeral. He didn’t want Lister to have to stay the few days at his new home; his wife and new kids clearly objected to the older boy’s presence in what was their family home. It wasn’t exactly like he could own a pet either, the landlord of the flat he lived in with his mum was very clear about that.

Jimmy had never been to a funeral because no one in his family had died yet. There had been the rare distant aunty or several times great grand-something or other, but no one closely related to him. The thought alone of losing anyone in his family made him want to lie in the ground alongside Tilly.

"It’s okay, mate." It was Lister speaking, which wasn’t always the safest bet in a rocky situation. But Rowan was too upset to form words, and Jimmy was too scared he’d say the wrong ones.

There’s silence between the trio for a moment, until Lister starts speaking again. "Hey Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Can dogs go to heaven?"

"Well... they’re creatures made by God? So, I would assume so."

"Me too! I think if any creature on earth should enjoy an eternity of peace and happiness, it’s dogs. Not humans." He turned his body to face Rowan. "And when your time comes, you can wave up at her."

There’s silence before Rowan chokes out a loud and abrupt laugh. He covers his mouth, his shoulders shaking from laughter even as the tears freely flow down his cheeks. Jimmy can’t help but begin to chuckle too, even if he himself had been tearing up. And when Lister joined them, they came together again in a group hug, sandwiching Rowan.

Joan Ricci.

Jimmy wasn’t in school today.

While Lister himself had missed more classes this year than possibly anyone else in their school, and Rowan wasn’t immune to the odd sick day, Jimmy was never sick. And even if he was, he made his way to school for fear of missing anything important and having his schoolwork snowball.

The most concerning thing about his absence, however, was that he hadn’t responded to any texts from the two boys. He hadn’t even read their group chat either. And now, at four o’clock in the afternoon, the two were headed to the Ricci house, sat on the bus in silence. Thankfully, Lister no longer felt awkward in the presence of one of them alone. He still felt incredibly aware of the split between them, between childhood best friends and drummer, but it no longer prevented him from connecting with either Jimmy or Rowan.

He had just come to accept that he would forever be the odd one out. the one who lived on the council estate, the one whose mum had him as a teen, the one with an estranged dad. He could never compare to Jimmy and Rowan, with their private music lessons and middle-class homes. The kind that weren’t even attached to the houses next to it and were made of the fancy looking red brick.

"What if he's, like, dead?" Rowan interrupted the silence, looking down at his still-unanswered text to their friend. Lister sighed and lightly shoved the bassist on the shoulder. They were almost at the bus stop near Jimmy's grandparents home.

"Mate, you sound like Jimmy when you think like that. 

With a reluctant sigh of agreement, Rowan followed Lister out of their seats and down the aisle of the bus to wait at the door for the driver to let them off.

As they walked the last few minutes to the Ricci household, Lister could feel dread settling in his stomach. He didn’t know what for, or why it decided to make itself at home in his gut, but he almost had to stop walking. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. He wasn’t sure if it was with Jimmy or what, but he was definitely more eager to pick up the pace to the Riccis to ensure their singer and best friend were okay.

The first thing they noticed about the Ricci household was the cars parked outside. Neither of Jimmy's grandparents could drive anymore, and Jimmy wasn’t even old enough for a provisional licence yet, let alone a car.

But for some reason, there was four or five cars around the driveway and road in front. Lister glanced at Rowan, the taller one seeming confused as well. But instead of looking at Lister, he kept walking, jogging up the steps, and ringing the doorbell. Lister soon joined him, hands wringing together uncharacteristically. Through the stained glass of the front door, he was sure he could hear soft murmurs from the living room. way more voices than the three inhabitants of the Ricci home. Soon a figure from the inside was moving down the hallway to open the door, and it was immediately apparent it wasn’t Pierreo or Joan. This person moved far too quickly, and before Lister could say anything else, the door was opened.

It was a woman that Lister had never met before, but he could tell instantly who she was. She was tall, about the only thing that didn’t resemble their friend. But the shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose, and the slant of her jaw was almost entirely Jimmy. The grumpy frown was the splitting image.

She had only glanced at their uniforms before she sighed and went to shut the door. "Jimmy can’t come out right now."

"Wait!" Lister cried out, sticking his foot in the doorway. The woman looked mildly infuriated, and distantly, Lister couldn’t help but think this was a terrible first impression with Jimmy's mother. "Is he okay? He hasn’t answered us, and he wasn’t at school. We were just…" Lister trailed off as he caught sight of Piero walking out of the living room.

"Pierro?" Rowan called out, and Lister could hear the apprehension in his tone. The old man’s face had sunken even since they’d seen him at the weekend. They’d been celebrating Rowans fifteenth a week early, and Joan had managed to get out of bed to bake him a huge cake before they had band practise. But now, Pierros eyes looked red-rimmed, and he was leaning heavily on his walking stick with every step.

"Boys," he sighed, joining his daughter in the doorway. Lister was the closest to him, with his foot still in the door. Pierro opened up the arm not relying on the cane, and Lister quickly accepted it for what it was: a hug.

"Is Jimmy okay? Did something happen?" It was Rowan again, and as he pulled away from the old man and glanced at Jimmy's mum, who still stood watching, Lister couldn’t blame the worry in his voice. If Rowan was feeling anything as unease’d as Lister in the presence of the usually aloof CEO, then Lister was unsure how Rowan was so well at hiding it.

"Boys." It seemed that Pierro couldn’t say anything else; his voice was fading. "This morning… Joan passed this morning."

The dread in Listers stomach had spread to his whole body, his heart aching as it pounded a mile a minute in his chest. He couldn’t form words, but tears had begun to well in his eyes.

"What? no… No she… What?" Rowan was scrambling to find the right words. He hadn’t begun to cry yet, but Lister knew it was from shock. His own tears were spilling onto his cheeks already.

"I’m sorry, boys." Pierro shook his head, and as though they were driven by the same force, Rowan and Lister descended on the old man with bone-crushing hugs. He tried his best to reciprocate them, but Lister could feel the quiver of his hands and the shallowness of his breath.

When they pulled apart, Lister wiped at his face a little too aggressively, but his shoulders were still high to his face, and he was still shivering from the force of his tears.

"Jimmys upstairs. I think he might like to see the both of you."

 

When they opened the door on the furthest end of the upstairs corridor, they noticed the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. There was a figure sitting up on the bed, a blanket draped over their head as they seemingly stared into space.

Pushing the door over further, the creak of it and the intrusion of the hallway light made Jimmy turn his head, the blanket falling to instead rest on his shoulders. His face was void of emotion, but even from where he stood in the doorway, Lister could see how puffy and red it looked compared to normal. Cheeks that still carried baby fat were raw with tears and the motions of wiping them away. Rowan and Lister had only just managed to compose themselves.

No one of the trio said anything; instead, the two newest additions to the room made their way over and sat on either side of the singer. He managed a small smile, trying to convey his appreciation for their attempts at comfort.

"She died." He croaked out, looking between them. Lister had a hand up to Jimmy's face, carefully moving some of Jimmy's shaggy hair out of the way of his face and behind his ear.

"We know, Jimjam." His voice was so foreign, even to himself. It was soft in a way he didn’t know he possessed anymore. He couldn’t help but think he almost sounded like his mum. The hand that had been fixing Jimmy's hair now rested gently on his shoulder, and he used it to bring the smaller one into a hug.

They could feel Rowans arms wrap around them, Jimmy circled. If Lister wasn’t the token atheist of their little group, he would think that it was symbolic or something. The wings of an angel maybe.

They should write a song about that.

Alister Bird.

Bringing a hand up to his earpiece and pulling it out, the full noise of the crowd hit Lister instantly. It was the end of their first show back, and now only Lister stood on the stage. Jimmy and Rowan had already made their exit, and now, standing up from his drum kit and holding his sticks in the air, it was Lister's turn.

He was panting, and he’s sure he looked like a sweaty mess, but the crowd was losing their minds, and he had never felt more alive. He jumped down from the platform where his drum kit was stationed and exited off the side of the stage towards Rowan and Jimmy, who were waiting for him. They both were panting and sweaty, but the grins on their faces resembled their thirteen-year-old selves so much that Lister didn’t care about it when he dragged them into a group hug, jumping up and down from excitement.

"That was fucking class." Lister managed out, his arm still wrapped around Jimmy's shoulders when they pulled away, his boyfriend (boyfriend!) leaning onto him.

"Profound as always, Alister." Rowan teased, the both of them pretending to fight for a moment or so longer before they were all ushered away from the backstage area and towards the dressing rooms.

Jimmy held a firm grip on his hand, and when they found an area secluded enough, he used it to detour them into a hidden crevice. His hands balled into fists around Listers shirt, and he used it to push him against the wall.

Lister laughed, but his chest was still heaving. "Jimjam, slow down." He could see the way the singers eyes drooped, the way they seemed fully focused on the way Listers lips moved around his words. He kept leaning in to try and kiss them, but Lister was feeling mischievous. He kept holding the singer away.

"Lis, I swear to God." He had a glare on his face, trying to appear intimidating. He failed to realise that to Lister, he did the exact opposite. Feeling empathy for the clearly desperate singer and giving into his own urge to kiss his boyfriend stupid, Lister leaned down and pressed their lips together.

He could feel Jimmy relaxing in his hold. He could feel the heat radiating from the frontman's body after the long show, and he could still hear the commotion of the crowd as the lights were turned on and they were ushered out of the venue. It was hard for Lister to believe that he was lucky enough to experience this. Not just the resurrection of his passion for music, but also the chance he’d been given to live a life by Jimmy's side. He’d lived in the frontman's shadow all these years, but now he had been given permission to love him. To kiss him freely without the guilt of another drunken mishap. To hug him without feeling that he had ill intentions.

He hoped the way he held Jimmy could convey all this. It was difficult to show the full extent of your love with only one arm around the middle. To share your soul with someone in the hopes they’ll accept it and, in turn, share their own.

His hands were in Jimmy's hair now, tugging at the strands on the back of his neck. Jimmy's hair had thankfully recovered from the years in which he straightened it, and now it was styled in its more natural waves. It was thick and bushy, and when Lister needed something to do with his hands, he would try to braid it. It wasn’t quite long enough for that, though, as Jimmy still preferred it short.

"Mr Bird."

The voice made both stars jump, with Lister keeping hold of Jimmy until he could see who it was who had interrupted them. He only hoped to God that it wasn’t a fan. But then again, not many Ark fans were middle-aged, bald white men with security written in bold letters over their chests. If this was a disguise to get backstage, it was a damn good one.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. But there’s a gentleman here who says he needs to talk with you." The man held a hand to his earpiece, turning away slightly as he likely received more information. Lister's thoughts had begun to run wild. He wasn’t sure who it could possibly be. He hadn’t spoken to any hookups in months and hadn’t initiated any since he and Jimmy had been talking. The guard turned back to them, ignoring Jimmy entirely. "A Graham Duncan, sir."

While it was clear the name didn’t ring any bells to Jimmy, Lister had sucked in a breath through his teeth so deeply that Jimmy could feel his chest move with it. Lister gently nudged at Jimmy's shoulder, urging him to back up so that Lister could move away from the wall.

"How did he get in?"

"His ID, Mr. Bird. Miss Cecily has a list of approved names, and he was on it, sir."

Lister sighed and rubbed at his forehead, post-show high clearly gone as he looked back to Jimmy.

"There he is!"

There’s excitement in the voice, but the room is silent around him. Rowan was sat on the couch farthest from the door, Lister stood from where he’d been sitting on the sofa, and Jimmy still sat next to his old spot. The father and son stared at each other for a few tense moments. Listers face was unreadable as he crossed his arms over his chest. Graham looked as though he'd been here to joke around with his son, coming close and punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"What you been up to then, boyo?" Lister could see Rowan raise an eyebrow at this, his face screaming, 'What does it look like we’ve been up to?' But Graham didn’t seem bothered by waiting for a response from Lister. He looked around at the two other members of the band, likely not wanting a crowd for his conversation with his oldest son.

"What do you want?" There was no pleasantry in Listers tone. He felt no need to pretend. To act like he and his dad had spoken since he’d turned ten, since his half brother was born and he himself was thrown to the side. Lister was the child born from a teenage mistake to the woman Graham had married for only two years before cheating with another woman. He wasn’t something Graham wanted to remember. And yet, he stood in their dressing room as though they were old buddies.

Graham laughed, spluttering on words for a moment as he clearly struggled to find what to say. "I can’t come see you then?" He landed on, earning a scoff from Lister, who walked away from the older man and made his way to the refreshment table in the corner. It was obvious to those who knew him that he was acting on instinct. Looking for something to drink. Looking for something to take the pressure of the situation off. But of course, there was no alcohol on the table anymore. Just water and juice. The juice would have to do.

"Ally, don’t be like that. You’ve no seen your auld man in donkeys, and this is how you want to act?"

"Lister." It was Rowan who had corrected him, sitting up on the couch and levelling Graham with a glare. While he knew very little of Listers family, he knew that this man was no father. He had just so happened to be Listers biological parent. There was nothing more between them.

"What do you want?" Lister asked again, holding the juice bottle to his lips and drinking almost half of it in one go.

Graham once again looked like he was about to obfuscate, but dropped it when Lister went to turn away from him again. "The house, Alister. It’s gone up... Me and Maria are struggling."

Rowan and Jimmy looked at each other, utter disbelief written over their features. The gaul of the man who had neglected their friend since he was a toddler to then come to him and ask for financial aid?

It would appear Lister also caught the irony, laughing bitterly as he finished the rest of his drink. "The house I have never been to? The house the woman you cheated on my mother with asked you to buy, so that you could play happy families while me and mum rotted away in a fucking council flat?" With each sentence, Listers voice rose higher and higher. "That fucking house?" He rounded the sofas to once again stand in front of the now angry man.

"You can fuck right off." Lister hissed, pointing to the door.

"I am your father, Alister. I helped raise you. You might look back on it now and scoff with all your multi-millions, but it was the damned best I could do." He was shouting too now, poking lister repeatedly on the chest. Rowan and Jimmy had stood up, fearing the worst with Lister's temper.

"You gave my mum fifteen fucking quid a month."

"It was all I had, Alister!" But Lister wouldn’t accept that. He threw the bottle across the room, watching as it grazzed past his father's head.

"Get out!"

"You are fucking pathetic. Your mother did about as much as I did, and you bought the stupid bitch a house? You give her money so she can prance about like she wasn’t some little fucking whore. And now, you’re acting like some big rockstar." He looked at Rowan and Jimmy. "But its just you and two fucking da-"

Graham Duncan didn't get to finish whatever hateful words he had wished to shout, as Lister had slammed his fist right into the centre of his face, feeling satisfied at the crunch of bone he felt and the cry that carried out through the room. The older man seemed to be torn between hitting back and staggering away, but the door was already open, and security was swarming Graham, dragging him out.

"Lis." Jimmy’s hand was on Listers shoulder from behind him, and Rowan was also taking a step closer so that he could make sure his friend was okay. Listers shoulders were hunched, and his face contorted as though he were in physical pain.

"Why... why doesn’t he care? Why does he..." He had begun to cry, and Jimmy was quick to tug him down by the shoulders in a hug. He rubbed at the drummer's back as he cried, shushing him gently to try and calm him down. Rowan also had a hand on Lister's shoulder.

"It's okay, Lis. he's gone." The bassist reassured. The drummer turned his head to look at Rowan, a small and appreciative smile on his tear-stained face.

"Well, he seemed lovely." Jimmy sighed, and Lister couldn’t stop the wet laugh he let out, rubbing at his eyes.

"A fucking delight, right?"

The three of them can’t help their giggles. Rowan quickly checked Lister's fist to be sure he hadn’t hurt it.

No matter how much it had hurt Lister to be confronted by his father, he felt comfort in the fact that he’d always been right about the man. He didn’t care about Lister or his mother. He only cared about himself and what he could get out of people. Perhaps it was a good thing that Lister had been raised by his hard-working and considerate mother. As much as he used to long for a father in his life, he knew now he was better off without him. It was his job to grow up to be a better man. not because of his father, but to spite him, to show him that not everyone was doomed to fall headfirst into the bottle and to never make it out. No. he had reason to live. to live happily.

"If I ever become a dad, I am never asking him for advice." Lister sniffed out, Rowan and Jimmy laughing as they pulled him in for a group hug.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Venezia porta a porta

Fotografie di Massimo Nordio

Introduzione di Piero Fròsini

Edizione curata da Laura Casalis

Franco Maria Ricci Editore, Milano 1981, 110 pagine, 23,5x25 cm, ISBN88-216-0327.X

euro 35,00

email if you want to buy : booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Il vasto labirinto d’acque chiamato Venezia racchiude un immenso lascito artistico e culturale, tanto ricco da abbagliare e sopraffare. Per chi la sappia esplorare con amore, la città si rivela un’altra, meno evidente, più segreta, ma davvero unica. Per chi avesse il coraggio di lasciare l’imponente patrimonio delle arti “maggiori” alle comitive organizzate, e volesse cercare il senso e il ricordo di un mondo nelle sue più modeste e quotidiane manifestazioni, potrebbe scoprire per esempio la misteriosa poesia delle maniglie e dei battenti metallici di cui sono ornate le antiche porte. Raccolti in questo volume, questi gioielli nascosti, presentano al lettore una Venezia “minore” ma carica di tradizione, che si dischiude solo agli occhi del visitatore che fa del suo girovagare per la città un’avventura sempre nuova.

22/07/23

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Blaze

0 note

[byneddiedingo]

Dirk Bogarde in Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti, 1971)

Cast: Dirk Bogard, Björn Andrésen, Marisa Berenson, Mark Burns, Silvana Mangano, Romolo Valli, Nora Ricci, Leslie French, Franco Fabrizi. Screenplay: Luchino Visconti, Nicola Badalucco, based on a novel by Thomas Mann. Cinematography: Pasqualino De Santis. Art direction: Ferdinando Scarfiotti. Film editing: Ruggero Mastroianni. 

I have nothing against slowness in movies if it leads to a satisfactorily immersive experience, but Death in Venice is just languorous, taking its own weary way toward the conclusion promised in the film's title. Watching it patiently has some rewards: Dirk Bogarde's fine performance as Gustave von Aschenbach; the sometimes opulent, sometimes melancholy views of Venice provided by Pasqualino De Santis's cinematography; the handsome sets by Ferdinando Scarfiotti and costumes by Piero Tosi; loving glimpses of Silvana Mangano as Tadzio's mother; and great gulps of Mahler's third and fifth symphonies on the soundtrack. But the screenplay by Visconti and Nicola Badalucco carries no intellectual or emotional weight. Thomas Mann's novella is meant to be savored and reflected upon, but film inevitably carries us along with our expectations of action, and there is little enough of it going on anywhere but in Aschenbach's head to provide Visconti with something to shoot. He resorts to flashbacks: to the illness that causes Aschenbach to take his fatal trip, to the happy days of Aschenbach's marriage (Marisa Berenson plays his wife) and the devastating death of their child, to a visit to a prostitute who plays Beethoven's Für Elise on the piano, to the storm of cheers and boos at the performance of Aschenbach's composition (actually an excerpt from the Mahler third symphony) and an argument with a friend (Mark Burns) about his music. The beautiful young Tadzio (Björn Andrésen) clearly represents something that has been lost from (or never present in) Aschenbach's life, But Visconti never makes Aschenbach's obsession with Tadzio either psychologically or thematically convincing. In the end we're left with little more than Aschenbach as the aging gay man doomed to a lonely death -- a too-familiar trope.

[kpwx]

«Las infinitas vidas de Euclides. Historia del libro que forjó nuestro mundo», de Benjamin Wardhaugh

No es necesario estar demasiado interesado en los números para que este libro te resulte entretenido, porque, aunque tiene de fondo una obra matemática, es en realidad un libro puramente histórico: desde que fue escrito en Alejandría hasta los últimos años en que dejó de usarse como texto obligatorio en las universidades europeas dos milenios después, esta es la narración del que probablemente sea el libro no religioso más editado y estudiado de la historia. Para los que somos unos pobres estudiantes de letras o ciencias sociales incapaces de llegar siquiera a la décima proposición (me gustaría, por puro desafío, ver hasta dónde resisto sin cortocircuitar) poder conocer al menos externamente los Elementos es una suerte, y lo es todavía más teniendo a disposición un libro como este. Las infinitas vidas de Euclides está tan bien escrito que, de verdad, se lee como si tuviera la mitad de páginas.

La lista de aquellos que editaron, comentaron o estudiaron la obra de Euclides que se reúnen en este libro es verdaderamente larga (terminé anotando más de tres páginas de nombres, fechas y acontecimientos), así que únicamente me limitaré a decir que los capítulos que me parecieron más interesantes fueron los que se ubicaron en el califato Abasí, en Persia y en China. Particularmente este último me gustó mucho, porque hasta ahora no conocía ni a Matteo Ricci ni Xu Guangqi, y tienen una historia interesantísima. Algo que me ha parecido curioso es que el autor no logró encontrar ningún matemático romano propiamente tal: Higino es el único escritor que puede relacionarse con Euclides, y escribió sobre agricultura, lo que demuestra lo prácticos y poco dados a las abstracciones que fueron los romanos. Entre los nombres conocidos que aparecen se puede nombrar a Platón, Proclo, Spinoza (este capítulo está muy bueno), Piero Della Francesca o Newton.

[skolirethm]

minor osemanverse character appreciation

Piero Ricci 

Becky Allen (needs to be appreciated more)

Raine Sengupta (literally dying she’s so amazing)

Rita Sengupta (must be protected at all costs)

Mr. Kent (brilliant teacher)

Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi (if Mr. Farouk doesn’t show up in S2 i will murder someone)

CECILY! (absolute girlboss)

Also Jason (not minor character but YES)

[greeen-bean]

Chapter Fourteen Thoughts:

IT GOT WORSE

Piero calling Jimmy "son"

And "jim-bob"

And "boyo"

And "my boy"

FUCK ME

Angelo ricci...ANGEL RICCI!?!??!

[agendaculturaldelima]

    #ProyeccionDeVida

🎥 Cine Italiano, presenta:

🎬 “YO LA CONOCÍA BIEN” [Io la conscevo bene]

🔎 Género: Drama

⏰ Duración: 99 minutos

✍️ Guión: Antonio Pietrangeli, Ruggero Maccari y Ettore Scola

🎼 Música: Benedetto Ghiglia y Piero Piccioni

📷 Fotografía: Armando Nannuzzi (B&W)

🗯 Argumento: Adriana llega a Roma desde la provincia de Pistoia para intentar entrar en el mundo del cine. Una vez en la capital colecciona amantes y oficios, aunque muchos hombres intentan aprovecharse de ella, porque Adriana es guapa e ingenua y jamás vive el día a día, porque eso la forzaría a programas complicados. Así que vive minuto a minuto: tomar el sol, escuchar discos, bailar son sus únicas actividades. Por lo demás, es voluble, inconstante, siempre necesita nuevas y cortas reuniones; no importa con quién: con ella misma, nunca.

👥 Reparto: Stefania Sandrelli (Adriana Astarelli), Nino Manfredi (Cianfanna), Franco Nero (Italo - The garage attendant), Ugo Tognazzi (Gigi Baggini), Jean-Claude Brialy (Dario Marchionni), Franca Polesello (Maria - The usherette), Vittorio Gassman, Mario Adorf (Emilio Ricci), Joachim Fuchsberger (The Writer), Véronique Vendell (Alice Stendhal) y Enrico Maria Salerno (Roberto)

📢 Dirección: Antonio Pietrangeli

© Productoras:Les Films du Siecle, Roxy Film & Ultra Film

🌏 Países: Italia-Alemania del Oeste (RFA)-Francia

📅 Año: 1965

📽 Proyección:

📆 Jueves 06 de Junio

🕔 6:30pm.

🏡 Auditorio Leonardo Da Vinci del Instituto Italiano de Cultura (av. Arequipa 1055, Urbanización Santa Beatriz - Lima)

🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️ Ingreso libre

🎤 El dato: Después de la proyección se realiza el Conversatorio: "Nadie la conocía de verdad. La obra maestra de Antonio Pietrangeli".

[reginadeinisseni]

La guerra di Piero (con testo) | Fabrizio de Andrè | Lyrics |

COINCIDENZE

8 giugno MATTEO RICCI OSPITE TAGADA' SENTENDO PARLAR LUI MI VIENE DA CANTARE LA GUERRA DI PIERO ' MUORI SEPOLTO IN UN CAMPO DI GRANO....." IO NON SAPEVO CHE UN CAMPO DI GRANO ERA NEL SERVIZIO 9 GIUGNO MUORE PIER FRANCESCO FORLEO

Venerdì 9 Giugno 2023, 11:26 - Ultimo aggiornamento: 10 Giugno, 09:18 1 mila Pier Francesco Forleo, direttore della Direzione Diritti Sportivi Rai, è morto a Roma la scorsa notte. Lo rende noto Viale

Roma, 8 giu. (Adnkronos) – ‘Il governo sull’emergenza alluvione è stato reattivo, Meloni è andata sul territorio, bene la risposta immediata. Ma ora ci sono due problemi enormi: le risorse stanziate sono pochissime, sono in gran parte sgravi, pagamenti ritardati; i soldi veri sono pochi mentre qui servono risorse per i danni, per risarcire famiglie, aziende e comuni”. Così Matteo Ricci, coordinatore dei sindaci del Pd e sindaco di Pesaro, a Tagadà su La7.“

8 июня Маттео Риччи гость ТАГАДА СЛУШАЯ PARLAR LUI, Я ПОЮ LA GUERRA ДИ ПЬЕРО "ТЫ УМРЕШЬ ПОХОРОНЕННЫМ НА КУКУРУЗНОМ ПОЛЕ....." Я НЕ ЗНАЛ, ЧТО ПШЕНИЧНОЕ ПОЛЕ БЫЛО В СЛУЖБЕ 9 ИЮНЯ УМЕР ПЬЕР ФРАНЧЕСКО ФОРЛЕО

Пятница, 9 июня 2023 г., 11:26 - последнее обновление: 10 июня, 09: 18 1 тыс. Пьер Франческо Форлео, директор Дирекции спортивных прав Rai, умер в Риме прошлой ночью. Это делает его известным проспектом

Рим, 8 июня. (Adnkronos) – " правительство по чрезвычайным ситуациям наводнения реагировало, дыни пошли на территорию, ну немедленный ответ. Но сейчас есть две огромные проблемы: выделенных ресурсов очень мало, это в основном льготы, просроченные платежи; реальных денег мало, в то время как здесь нужны ресурсы для возмещения ущерба, компенсации семей, предприятий и муниципалитетов”. Так Маттео Риччи, координатор мэров Демократической партии и мэр Пезаро, в Тагаде на La7.“

#DONALDTRUMP #TRUMP #BOLSONARO #GHEZZI #DORIGHEZZI #STRISCIALANOTIZIA #FRANCESCO #RUTELLI #PROPAGANDALIVE #ELUANA #ENGLARO #ELUANAENGLARO #CRISTIANO #DEANDRE #CRISTIANODEANDRE #twitter #facebook #skyrock #linkedin #instagram #okru #tiktok

ODIO I GIORNALISTI SONO SENZA COSCIENZA INCOMPETENTI COME GLI PSICHIATRI

[materiali-sonori]

www.thebigcatalogue.it

[sounds-right]

25/02 Dennis Cruz al Bolgia - Bergamo 

Sabato 25 febbraio 2023 il Bolgia di Bergamo si muove a tempo con la tech-house irresistibile del top dj producer spagnolo Dennis Cruz. Si tratta di un'altra notte esplosiva per il tempio dell'elettronica sull'A4. E' un party da non perdere che ancora una volta fa scatenare il suo pubblico con la musica dei top dj più importanti della scena elettronica mondiale. 

Originario di Madrid, Dennis Cruz è da sempre alfiere di un sound da club sempre originale. Classe '83, inizia a muovere i primi passi a 17 anni come sound engineer, a 20 collabora con artisti rock e hip hop. Da quel momento, la sua carriera è in ascesa verticale. Il suo nome è ormai da tempo presente nelle line-up di festival importanti, come BPM o ADE. Moon Harbour, Defected, MUSE, DIRTYBIRD, e ovviamente quella dei Milk & Sugar sono le label su cui fa uscire la sua musica.  La sua nuova traccia, "Una Rumbita", tra techno, house e suggestioni afro, appena uscita, già sta facendo ballare il mondo. Dopo il dj set al Bolgia di Bergamo il 25 febbraio '23, Denys Cruz, a marzo '23, è al Mondo di Madrid (il 9) e il One Marylebone di Londra (il 10). 

Con Denys Cruz, a far scatenare la Main Room del Bolgia il 25/02 ci sono pure Dario Sun b2b Donadely, Ferdi, Salvo V, Simon Ricci. Nella Lab Room va invece in scena il party We Know. Il Bolgia apre alle ore 23.00 e si balla fino alle 6 del mattino. 

Quello che vede sul palco del Bolgia di Bergamo il 25 febbraio '23 lo spagnolo Dennis Cruz è solo l'ennesimo appuntamento d'eccellenza nel top club. Nelle scorse settimane, e per tutta la stagione passata, si sono esibiti top dj della portata di Chris Liebing, Sam Paganini, Len Faki, Ilario Alicante, Luca Agnelli, Sidney Charles, Piero Pirupa, Leon, Raffa FL, Wade & Fer Mesa, Pan-Pot, Franchino, Marco Faraone, Joseph Capriati.

25/02 Dennis Cruz @ Bolgia - Bergamo 

Info e prenotazioni

https://www.bolgia.it/dennis-cruz/

Bolgia

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino