Memento

The one thing that kept me going when I was about to collapse, is now the one thing preventing me to start a new life.

How ironic.

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Scenes from New York, sample 3 of 3

Here it comes.
The song that nobody would have expected to see performed live, such is tne complexity and the level of coordination required.
The first time you listen to it, you won't understand anything. The second, perhaps, you'll start to appreciate the awesomeness of a few moments (probably the famous ragtime solo). The third you'll watch out for those moments, and discover a few other ones.
Until the whole song becomes a moment.
It is a rollercoaster ride.

The Dance of Eternity:

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Scenes from New York, sample 2 of 3

This one is just beatiful.
It is not your ordinary Dream Theater piece. It's pure magic.
And it is even more moving when you are watching the whole show. Because it comes unexpectedly. It turns the tables. It brings the whole show to a different level.
The moment this piece starts, you shiver.

What you need to know:

• the guest gospel singer is Theresa Thomason. And she is amazing.
• the lyrics are amazing as well, when put into the context (remember, it's a concept album).
  
• some people dislike the Dream Theater singer. I personally believe he's not as exceptional as the rest of the band, but not too bad either. If you really hate him, however, I would like to share what N said on the matter: "True perfection has to be imperfect. Dream Theater's way of achieving true perfection is by having James LaBrie sing for them". But come on, he is fine.

Through her eyes:

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Scenes from New York, sample 1 of 3

You know them, but you probably have never watched one of their live performances.
My favorite one is, without any doubt, Metropolis 2000: Scenes from New York. And it should become one of your favorites too, because it is literally mind-blowing.

What you need to know:

• we are talking Dream Theater.
  
• it is a live performance of Metropolis Pt.2: Scenes from a Memory. The concert is also available as a triple cd (check the Wikipedia link, you want to have a close look at the orginal cover and release date, trust me).
• it is ranked as the 10th best live concert dvd on imdb with an average rating of 9.4.
• it is a concept album so it narrates a story. In the dvd, this is reflected by cut scenes.
• it's epic, trippy, touching.
  

I have prepared three samples for you.
Please enjoy the first one: Overture 1928 + Strange Deja Vu:

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A map of you

As expected, most of the people visiting this little planet are from the UK, Italy and the US.
I am just wondering who the hell is checking this out from Haiti.

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Untitled, One

How tired I am of this unbearable distance between us
How I long for the toll of the recess bell
Have you forgotten me?
Grown mindless of me?
Tell me I am not writing into an abyss
Or that is what will become of my heart

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A quick comment

My last post was quite popular.
It received an unexpectedly high number of hits from a variety of sources, including Facebook and The Student Room. Not to mention all the positive feedback I got from you via msn.
Thanks all, I am glad you appreciated it.

Edit: forgot to address a point you raised. No, I won't allow comments on this blog. I want to keep it for myself. While I do care about what you think about my posts, I also know that all of you know how to get in touch with me (and did so) if for any reason you wish to do so.

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On terrorism: when it gets personal

Imagine you wake up one morning only to find that someone has planted a bomb where you or your friends live. In the very street, train or station you go through everyday. In your very life.
Imagine the terror that pervades you as you discover that there have been many victims, and that somebody you care about or even just barely know might be among them.
It's something that will never happen to you, isn't it? It feels so impossible, so distant...
Until, well, it does happen.

September 11, 2001: that's when it began.
Three hijacked planes crash into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. A fourth plane crashes somewhere in Pennsylvania. 2,974 people die.
I am in the school building with RC trying to configure my laptop's network connection. RC's phone rings, he cheerfully answers. Immediately, his face goes pale. He can't even speak properly and, when he shuts the call down, he babbles something about a "third world war" and "Chinese planes attacking the Pentagon" (don't laugh, remember how chaotic things were - nobody had a clue about what was going on, hence the crazy theories).
I grab my laptop and we run to the bar where we all usually gathered to see if we could get an idea of what was going on. After all, they had a television.
The bar is as crowded as in a Saturday night, but everyone is silent. As the images of the burning Twin Towers run on the screen, my attention is caught by someone outside the window. It's A's. She is from NY. And she is the only one screaming, and crying.
I go out and I notice that she is been comforted by an English teacher, HT. As I approach her, O stops me and explains what happened: her sister works in a building right next to one of the towers. She can't get in touch with her.
I stare at her. I had never seen someone so terrified. The image of her strikes me as never before. I'll never forget it.
A couple of days later, A got news from her sister. She is alive. A broken leg, nothing serious. Could have been worse, no?

March 11, 2004: first-hand terror.
Ten explosions on four trains in Madrid kill 191 people during rush hour.
I am in my room, working on an economics paper. I am trying to make my work looks pleasant to the eye, making little stupid adjustments on the layout when I decide to take a break and check the news.
When I see what happened I feel cold. Do I know someone in Madrid? Someone who may have been there? Oh, fuck. Yes, I bloody do. H is studying there.
I feel pure terror running through my veins. I haven't been very much in touch with H lately, but he is one hell of a nice guy and one of my best friends.
I grab the address book and compose his Spanish mobile phone number. No answer.
I have no idea how to get in touch with him, but i must know he is safe. So I call his home number, in Valencia. He won't be there, but maybe they'll know whether he is safe or not.
His mother answers. In a pathetic mix of Italian, English and totally amateurish Spanish I manage to identify myself and ask if H is fine. And he is. "H...bien. No worry. Tranquilo".

July 7, 2005: it gets personal.
Three bombs explode on three London underground trains. A fourth one explodes on a bus. The death toll is 56. 700 other people are injured.
It's summer, so I am back home in Italy. It's late morning and I am still dozing in bed when my mother storms into my room. By the look on her face and the "Wake up now and come watch the television" she yells at me I can tell something is not right.
I rush into the kitchen and the first thing I see on the television is a very familiar map: the London tube. I immediately understand what is going on. I get closer to the television and I see the location of the blasts. I freeze.
King's Cross. Russel Square. Liverpool Street. Tavistock Square. They fucking hit my neighborood. The place where I have been living for two bloody years.
Now, you probably don't realize how serious I am when I say that they hit my neighborhood. How personal it felt.
First of all, look at this map showing the locations of the blasts. The green pin is my house. The blue ones are the locations of the bombings. Now quickly calculate the distance between my house and the attacks, and think in London terms.
Satisfied? No? Good, because it gets much more personal than that. They didn't just hit geographically near my house. They hit some of the places that meant the most to me. Quick explanation following.

• Tavistock Square: I used to spend my Saturday nights in a uni residence (Connaught Hall, home of the Hawk, for the record) in Tavistock Square. I got drunk there, kissed there, had fun, made friends. I knew the goddamned square palm by palm. I could describe it centimeter by centimeter. It was the place I used to go to chill out. If I had to pick a bloody suqare in London, that would be it. Not only: they bombed one of the buses I used to take to go home from there. Bus route 30 was one of my routes.
• King's Cross/Russel Square: when I didn't take the bus they happily bombed to go to Tavistock Square, guess what I took? Yes: I took the Piccadilly line train. I'd jump onboard in King's Cross and get off in Russel Square. I used to take that very train and travel on it between those very two stations.
• Liverpool Street: Liverpool Street holds a special place in my heart. It was the first glimpse of London I had seen when I first arrived in the city. The station where I would arrive when coming back from Italy, and the one from which I'd depart from London. Lots of memories tied to it.

Back to that morning. I somehow manage to regain control of myself and start shivering. How many people do I know in London? Dozens, maybe hundreds and all of them could have been there. Hell, my flatmate worked right in front of Liverpool Street Station and travelled there by tube. I start making calls. The lines are too busy, can't get a hold of anyone. So I send text messages while running around the house histerically. My head is empty, blank, I can't think. I am simply overwhelmed, terrified.
People start getting back to me. "I am fine, the bank is taking good care of us" says my flatmate. One by one, everyone answers. Everyone is fine.

If you ever wondered how it would feel to be in situations such as the ones I described above, don't try imagining. You would never manage and, trust me, you are better off not knowing.
For those of you who went through this shit, I know it hurts to the point of not wanting to admit it.
The next time something will happen (because it will happen again, sooner or later) I just want you to know this: you may feel alone, but make no mistake - you are not the only one desperately trying to make that goddamned international call.

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A few words of introduction

If you are reading this, you are one of the people I decided to share this little corner of my life with.
It will be a rather intimate corner. Expect to find things you would not expect from me.

This blog will be mainly in English, because that's the only way to ensure all of you can read it. Besides, I often feel more comfortable writing in English than in Italian.
Expect, however, to see some posts you won't be able to understand. I offer my apologies, in advance.

Please don't link to this blog. If you know it exists, it's because I wanted you to.
Feel free, however, to share the whereabouts of this place with whoever you feel may be interested. I shall trust your judgement.

One of you will be asking herself a question while reading these lines. The answer is yes and no.
Yes, this blog would have never come into existence (or, well, resurreccted...hence the Take Two) without you.
No, this isn't just about you. It is about me, my life, the universe and everything.

Welcome all.

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