remained motionless on the bench at least one hour. If he could have asked to be quiet throughout the waterfront.
sadly we stayed in the car. Issues within.
If he was capable of so much of silence was requested and obtained the gulls.
"Those uvula always too bright for birds. Get the blackbird. That warble his sharp, ringing fickle dictated by flashes of a neutral mood, breathing a little belly fairing, equipped with a narrow throat and tongue pointed yellow bill, always ready to modulate solfeggios dictated by some kind of inspiration, style exercises learned in areas unknown at a school refused to humans. "
I stopped to read out the birds and wondered how this definition was poetic invention, the woman next to me smiled.
- No, that is his obsession. Demetrius really fear the birds ... one day he said that what bothers him most in them is that ... "anarchic freedom" also ... "the sudden shake of the head, small eyes hallucinating, eyelids corneas, the legacy of their descent from dinosaurs, a kind of incomprehensible things unfathomable and certainly disrespectful to the artist's sensibility."
listened to studying the gestures of the music away on the bench. I think he was talking to himself, then turned his gaze again to the woman, what I meant, reading, were extracted from the "Biography of a summer," the bestseller about the life of the singer. On the seat between me and the woman, there was a pile of ten signed copies of the book, ready to be given away knowledge to some famous artist.
He stood behind, kept talking with the waves. His assistant, standing a few meters from the bench, smoking with one foot on a bollard and waited more than all of us that his boss find the key to the problem.
But who would have dared to go there and bring it back to a more domestic, now that he was completely captured by one of her singular inner turmoil.
admit that I almost hoped that happened that day. I had been heard in my morbidity as a journalist, I saw the artist who suffer, caught in its most hidden, and the reports that I was going to do would have more bite, if only I could translate it into a form which could cope with the limitations that I imposed on artist's entourage.
The artist himself was softened so that my book would go on the air. He is relentless with his collaborators, difficult and only for fair-play behaves differently with those who approached him outside of his court. Not to be greedy (to no fees, perhaps of humanity, according to some of his tools), but his extremist line not give way on the details, schedules, rules. The artist does not compromise on the delays, we do not accept that there are slippages agreed timetable.
"If to blind an eye on your five minutes late should I pay you for those five minutes that you did not work for the same reason you agree that you will not get a round of five minutes on your extraordinary. "
This is the content of the only trade talk with the musicians that you grant off stage.
on stage is something else. Up there, the job is an empty word, and this should apply automatically to the whole orchestra. "The time on the boards of the stage is art, the clock remains in the dressing room in the pocket of his coat."
To be precise a clock, the only trustworthy, continues to be on stage or not far, is the assistant, he writes all times and its role is indisputable.
even bat an eyelid when the singer's assistant noted that the time of the testing is finished for him in those dire circumstances, time is a parameter with which to get in touch via a medium, who will be alive at the time agreed, before then the musician fluctuates beyond the confines of time and can be described as "undoubtedly the living", a definition that takes effect when you compare his presence of mind to the piano keys with the mood that generally pervades in all other situations. At the restaurant in the hotel lobby, anywhere off the stage a journalist can approach him, Demetrius is a person completely flat, assente, intento esclusivamente a regolare contabilità di ogni genere , confrontando grafici e diagrammi di flusso con l’ assistente, scartabellado le pagine ad anelli dei suoi segretissimi registri rossi della Pigna sui quali da decenni annota ogni cosa, facendo correre la punta di mille mozziconi di matita. Segna tutto a grafite, dell’inchiostro non vuol saperne, dice che “con l’inchiostro è stato segnato il destino di fin troppi geni dell’arte, non si vorrà che ne resti vittima anche un povero artigiano delle note”.
Di fatto quei registri rossi sono parte integrante della figura del nostro quanto e più della sua fronte solcata di rughe o del papillon messo un po’ di sbieco.
The soi confidants are probably only those records, as well as handyman and assistant clearly this lady who sat beside me, also ubiquitous, the most punctual staff. The artist calls her only miss the moon, his muse. Has a key role in the conduct of trials and in concert is never seen if not sguincio, behind a fifth. And 'the occult presence of the concert, except out to assist the players during the end credits with the roar of applause. It was with her and not with the artist who I could talk about during those days. Miss Moon was the spokesman, described to me the thought-Demetrius, leaked details and secrets that have never been able to arrive directly from the voice mocking him. Voice from which never would believe to hear the truth, so his short utterances invariably resemble variations on the theme of his pieces. If you do not write on the register
red, Demetrio is on stage when he is not intent on playing or to care for her beloved correspondence, the artist is closed in some hotel room in secret alliance with the muse, if not even there then perhaps it has kidnapped an existentialist tide so you can not know what he is doing or where is the point.
That day we stopped at the roadside and he sat on the bench in wrought iron with a context Bagnoli was rare to stop in time and on paper, and I, that's why I made a profession, probably sinned ingratitude.
- What are you thinking when you? - Ask Miss Moon. I knew I was too direct a question, not so much the content, but for the contact person, talking with Miss Luna is like talking directly with Demetrius. In some ways it is even more challenging, because the artist never respond to such a request, while Moon has its tacit consent to intercede and "compromise" in the difficult menage of public relations.
- His concern right now is not able to write the next song ...
- Teme something?
- I'm telling ... the greatest satisfaction in the life of Demetrius is the applause after each song. Demetrius pursues a vision and this is expressed every time one of his songs move the hearts of an audience. He understood the intimate size of the ability to give an emotion, it is haunted because he understood that this is one of the greatest powers given to man to raise the spirits of his fellow men.
I read about: "... but it is a good ephemeral, molasses thrown into the crowd paying for a few minutes, finished the last clap of your hands, people will not remember more than a few moments before she was all right ..."
- here ..., in fact, another cause of his illness ...
- …tutto preso dai demoni del consenso… lo facevo decisamente più distante da queste paturnie… uno che concede interviste come fossero udienze papali… col portavoce…con tutto il rispetto per lei signora, ma…
Non avessi mai adoperato quei toni… miss Luna si trasformò in Miss Gelo:
- la prego cortesemente di non scherzare. E’ un grande privilegio il suo… qui… ora.
- …desolato, signora. Davvero, chiedo scusa…
Mi sentivo sufficientemente a disagio, la mia proverbiale faccia di legno stagionata così a lungo in anni passati a frugare nei cassetti delle mie prede aveva evidentemente ancora dei punti molli. Miss Luna, una sparring so devoted partner ... I just have to wait for resumption spontaneous speech, but was now intent on looking towards the sea breeze to understand what would last the torment of his companion.
Sure, maybe I crossed the line, but that was people who did not make the slightest effort to make your life easier, to smooth out the formalities. And in the end Who was Demetrius?
a man who had long lost sight of the boundaries of his ego ...
one for which a simple interview which may require filtering Minà even had to face, that time of the report to Castro ...
means that a mysterious perhaps through hypnosis, has done a beautiful lady of fifty, agghindata sovente come una tigre del ribaltabile, la sua incorruttibile perpetua, incessantemente rapita dall’estasi per qualunque verso poetico o puramente onomatopeico del nostro grande compositore…
uno infine, via, che ha fatto di necessità virtù, encomiabile per la pertinacia, ci mancherebbe… ma con quella voce…
va bene.
Lo scrutavo contrariato: l’artista proseguiva il suo delirio rivolto ai flutti, adesso era adirato, si strappò in un gesto di stizza il papillon e lo scagliò verso il bagnasciuga.
Mi produssi in un sorriso amaro, speravo che miss Luna si girasse e capisse che anche se uno è Demetrio non può pretendere così tanta devozione da quelli come me, che si guadagnano il pane col sudore e che hanno il buon senso di risparmiare questi capricci da adolescente alla gente che li circonda, e forse tanta devozione Demetrio non la merita nemmeno da lei cara Miss Luna, avrei voluto dirle… qui si sta parlando di mancanza di rispetto. Oltre che di buon senso.
Macchè, quella non avrebbe mai colto il mio sorriso, avreste dovuto vederla, col fiato sospeso, indecisa se aprire la portiera dell’auto e correre verso il suo amore per abbracciarlo, per impedirgli di fare una qualsiasi sciocchezza. Una così bella donna, avesse avuto una devozione simile per me, che motivi avrei trovato per incazzarmi con le onde? Ma la distribuzione dei talenti agli uomini è affidata an arbitration scheme ... I could never make up the crowds in the audience, as well as a diatribe baste with salt water, and breathtaking women do spells for me, panting behind the tinted rear window of a saloon.
But I thinking? I rubbed me to make comparisons between my situation with that of the famous Neapolitan singer? What c'azzeccava? I was leaving to take a few Neapolitan charm, a little more 'and I wanted to cry turned to Vesuvius.
began to read aloud a passage of "Biography of a summer", opened at random, I just wanted to stop that irritating little show, besides resume my work, only fixed point in my opinion of that derailment in which those people I feel sucked:
"What I hate above all things is populism. Populism devious, the most vulgar, that slips into the homes of housewives through the so-called scientific sections, when they want to convince them that their food is comparable to a daily practice with the laws of chemistry, hence the hasty syllogism that a housewife does not has reason to feel an inferiority complex toward the major brain research, highly questionable concept, except perhaps for cooking as Miss Moon.
the long period of time similar reasoning could generate la convinzione che Beethoven e un clacson si spartiscono il regno della musica dato che entrambi producono suoni ed è da questa degenerazione del pensiero che io vi metto in guardia, care signore.”
- Be’ questo pensiero mi è piaciuto!
sottolineai per riconquistarmi le grazie della signora
- …questo è solo una piccola scintilla da cui si evince la grandezza dello spirito di Demetrio…
- … sì sì e poi c’è quell’ironia di fondo… peccato non sia altrettanto prodigo di motti di spirito quando i giornalisti pendono dalle sue labbra…
- … ah ma allora lei ne fa un fatto personale…
- no signora, mi creda e mi spiace di aver esagerato prima… ma ecco… ehy, Demetrio si è alzato…
miss Luna era già fuori dall’auto, la vidi correre verso il suo uomo che aveva preso a scendere improvvisamente una scalinata che portava giù alla spiaggia.
Uscii anch’io, chissà quale altro capriccio o sceneggiata, mi preparavano quelle due figure da operetta. L’assistente mi pregò di restare presso l’auto, io non gli prestai la minima attenzione, poteva anche essere l’uomo-tassametro dei concerti dell’artista, ma su di me quel tizio non poteva avanzare nessuna pretesa. Eppure si provò a trattenermi per un braccio, gli intimai di lasciare la mia bellissima camicia, molto inamidata, molto debole at the seams ... riiip! the monkey did not take anything to rip a sleeve ...
- you are stupid? you have this shirt that I paid more than they take to 'Cock is interviewing?
- I am sorry for her, is not allowed to intrude even in talks between Demetrius and Miss Moon ... is ... here ... I
divincolai and slipped even as the days of rugby, the English Channel left the ape man, I was already two steps further down, suddenly deafened by the roar of the wave.
looked up the orangutan we tried to get off, but apparently had some problems with new shoes on those feet unexpectedly small for his size. I saw him stumble in a serious way, then went back to scan the shoreline, looking for those two. Huge waves, it seemed the Gulf of Naples. The sound of the sea, however, something was amiss. I tried to understand, there was background music, a dirge, with the accordion ... something far beyond. I moved along the cliffs, and the music became more defined ... it seemed ... it was! hundred meters to the right of the stairs, in an inlet port, a few meters above the waves, had installed an old carousel with the horses. Although apparently no one was turning the old rode wooden horses.
- Vulite do nu around, kid, 'ite, the true academic TENITE carrousel de Napule
... The man was dressed elegantly and the carousel at first, from behind, had seemed to be the same Demetrius.
- c'ashpettate So ...? In aa cup tournament there is none other than the great master who plays just for you ... and for this beautiful creature ...
man bent over with a flourish to show that Miss Moon appeared from the carousel sitting on a small car with peeling paint , I had not detected the first distracted from that carousel of lights. Miss Luna smiled as I had not yet seen it done. It looked like a girl, so suddenly free of all affectation that led around with your makeup.
- Come on you too fitted, Demetrio play for both!
I shouted excitedly, leaning all his grace, I came up with a definition read somewhere "in the face all the signs of aging, but the body of a teenager"
- does it sound? and where '?
- but you've seen? is there!
- where there?
- that there is ...
ride away from me the moon and miss what I said was lost in the harmony of hypnotic accordion and piano ...! here is the artist behind the black horse and the red one was a baby grand piano and behind it was Demetrius, who once again master of charisma fa muovere sui palcoscenici di tutto il mondo.
Era lì, perfettamente a suo agio, nonostante quel palcoscenico rotante, le luci intermittenti e la puzza di cherosene, il nostro seguiva sui tasti la melodia semplice del carosello e sembrava che niente gli importasse più di quello.
Presi al volo un cavallo accanto allo sgabello di Demetrio, lui chiaramente non mi vide, assorto in quelle dieci note, sempre le stesse. Mi voltai e qualche cavallo più in là vidi la carrozza di miss Luna che continuava a bearsi come una bambina con lo zucchero filato.
A tratti vedevo passare l’uomo della giostra, si lisciava il baffo e squadrava solo me, lasciando intendere che qualcuno avrebbe ben dovuto pagarlo quel fun, that it never touched your artist, international star, the pride of Naples.
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