Last week has been the most exciting time in the whole year. Dog days are over now, and they're over for good this time. New school, new people, new things to do. And then news news news which have nothing to do with it. And then Christmas presents to give and to receive, valuable time spent with my family, positive thinkers all around, the saddest year coming to an end and a new one just about to begin. A complete brush on a life that's been making me sick for months.

I don't have anything Christmas-y to share, I wouldn't even feel like. I don't feel like jingle bells and stuff, I just feel I can't wait 'till December 31st, I need something to happen. It just kills me that I can't say a thing. I'd rather climb on a mountain and scream it out. Loud.

Last night I was listening to a Screaming Trees record, and these lines caught my attention:
"I got to tell you, goodbye mama
We've taken this too far
Been trying to tell you what's going on"
I started laughing hysterically. I'm sad as fuck now that I realize this is just how this all will end. At least, I got Mark Lanegan to listen to. Which ain't bad at all. Believe me, it ain't.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year or whatsoever, y'all.
I might come back before 2012, who knows.
See ya.

The venue we love so much is small and dark, except for this part [the entryway]. The stage is the smallest I've ever seen, it is just 15cms higher than the floor, making it very democratic but also painfully annoying if you wish to take a picture of the band from a distance.

We got two cokes [Bene was in charge as our driver, and I'm a good friend so I didn't drink liquors either] and sat at one of those high skinny tables. We had a nice view of the stage from up there. There were so little people that we went smoking outside and no one stole our table. How sad.

While waiting for the band to start playing, we talked and took pictures of ourselves, then the music started. I had only heard a couple of songs by the Pirates before that night, and liked them. Also, they're pretty cute in their Brit-style-ness. I mean, guys don't wear that kind of shoes and shirts in Italy, and that's a real shame. But I think that look suits Brit guys better, I guess that's for their pale skin, I don't know, that's just an opinion.

If I could talk to the Pirates, I would tell them not to blame it on their own selves if the audience looked bored and didn't feel much like dancing or interacting. The thing is, this place is the perfec hang-out place for the young indie-wannabe-elitists of town.

The thing I hate the most about this [shitty black pictures aside], is that their attitude prevents me from really enjoying myself at gigs. The singer felt a little depressed, I guess that's because we really are the shitty audience I told you. Bene and I make no exception: we spent the whole time sitting at our table, sipping our cokes, and even had a cigarette break. Just like you do at a boring conference. I feel sorry about it, Pirates.

On our cigarette break I noticed something was wrong with the camera: the film got somehow stuck somewhere, so I made some accidental double exposures. This one above is quite creepy, as it seems like  someone stabbed Bene, but it's also quite funny. The one I like the most is the first picture up up up  above. I only got mad when I realized the only half decent picture of the band got double exposed and it now looks shitty. I guess you could call this one an illfated roll.

I think Bene got some fucking attitude in this picture. Back from ciggy-time, we headed for the ladies' restroom.

Ok, now, this one requires a little explanation. Back in October 2006 Bene and I went to see ¡Forward, Russia! live in that very same place. We got bored 'cause we didn't like them much, and drank a few drinks [my dad took us there, and we didn't have a driving licence to protect anyway], and got little drunk. Well, it was just me, actually. We decided to go the toilet, and when Bene came out of the WC, she found me stretching on that same sink. She burst into laughter, when a nice English girl came in and started talking to me. Ever since, I kept telling anybody I met the brown-head lady from The Pipettes, 'cause I truly believe it was her. Five years later, which is today, I started questioning my sanity.