Jack Frusciante left the group, based on the novel by Enrico Brizzi, who is a great film "you enjoy it and it grows at the same time. "
Particularly interesting is Martino's letter addressed to his friend Alex before "out of the group."
Alex,
my friend over this letter will go down because of the hills, via San Mammolo, Via D'Azeglio, and Via Farini riding on my Vespa celebrated special, I'll stop in the square in front Minighetti to me, imbucherò the letter, maybe take an ice cream (I must be a fruit ice cream with cherries above), I'll be back, will leave the wasp in the garden, I shut the house and destroy all the pictures who've bought my beautiful this place to death.
I am too sick to live well, and there are too deep to change.
However, my son of the poor. It is not for them I decided. E 'for me.
I thought and thought, old chap. And my conclusions are these: if you're a bum, a drug addict, an immigrant, a albanotto, you're screwed. Do you isolate, you're out of the group. Then, the group more or less leaves you in peace and aloof at first, until when do not you make one too big, and then end up in jail. If you're a normal person, respectable, if you're in the group, good or bad work for the group. And this does not mean being honest. Indeed.
The leaders of the group are kind of my friends, many assholes full of money trying to control people. With the parties, with the complaint, with the economic groups.
Do you know a pack of these things, you, being a kind of social pissed.
The group is tutta la merda che ci danno da mangiare, giusto.
Ecco, io credo che se ne esca o essendo intelligentissimi, spiritualmente liberi come i monaci buddhisti o i grandi filosofi, e allora ci si innalza; oppure prendendo il sacco a pelo e andando a vivere alla stazione o nei campi nomadi, e allora ci si abbassa.
A me la prima soluzione non mi va. Troppo dura. E poi l'unica cosa intellettuale che faccio è guardare dei film. E la seconda non mi va perchè a fare i barboni ci si ammala quasi subito e si diventa pieni di croste e malati e bruttissimi.
There is also a third way, in the end: a leap out of the circle drawn around us. I'm just a little 'sick thinking about how my body will.
I dreamed last night that the firemen entered the house breaking down the door and found my corpse. I was lying on the ground belly up. The firefighter was big, about fifty, blacks had a mustache, I raised my head and said, "Poor guy ..." like in the movies.
But I'm okay with myself, you know Alex?, Because it is the first major what I do. Everything else had taught me, this story I have planned and I decided.
Alex my friend, are peaceful, not to believe.
hug, and I salute you with all your strength. Do not let them submit. Do not forget me.
Martino.
