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twenty-four bis. Vagalasacaradamanataqa



Like all things truly important, I do it without the slightest air of solemnity, in a morning grayer than usual, listening to a CD of Petra Magoni.

I spent the night, however, to think about it.

not change three and a take off. What then, is not that the gates. I save, I put it on a stick and I do disappear from the blog. From Chapter fifteen to eighteen, my world changed. And right now, I've just finished doing so, the perception of having manipulated the part of the story becomes increasingly blurred. Trouble remembering what points I have changed. And how.
The previous version becomes an elusive dream.
The speech that I am just back from visiting Eco Dead Poets seems to me far too sensible. But I always said those things? Or was I to have them say?

And me?

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"I do not really want to do it," he says Regina.

E 'terrified. Terrified as I have not ever seen, with big eyes and dark look at me, looking earnestly into mine. Bring them to trial ... I put to the test.
"I have to do it, Regina. I do not know what else to invent"
"This is not even remotely an option." Raise your voice. I doubt was in its intentions to do so. The back down immediately. He pants and avoid cross my eyes again.
"Why are you so afraid?"

A wry smile is drawn on the face. He died right away, that smile, the body is the hard line of his lips. No answer.

Almost two months that I try to make sense of what I said ... the person? I met the screening of Metropolis .
"Give me your life - he said - Destroy a piece of your life"
I admit, I've got not much thought. Not immediately, anyway. I traveled far and wide to Bologna, hands in pockets, brooding face, to think and think and think. I thought this could be write, as usual. Write a story, something old and give it as I'm concerned ... give it to whom?
I wrote a lot. I wrote back memories of asylum, I wrote the first person I fell in love, my first story, a dream I had.
I found a comb through anything that might be of significance in my life. It 's funny, obvious: sometimes nothing, sometimes I'd rather be spoiled for choice. Whatever there was of importance, I burned.

... and nothing happened.

I got drunk like an idiot. I burned a little 'memories over a bottle of brandy which, moreover, even this is a starting point for destroying at least a little '. Nothing, of course. Furthermore, it is that I approached this approach with much conviction.

My research has not progressed one iota. I also thought of giving up several times. I did. I said well, after all, who cares , and for a while 'I minded my own business, which were not those of Von Beck or Michael Jackson.
Until a few days ago, I have not seen, the King of Pop. Regina and I were sitting in front of the TV, Cantonese spring rolls and rice on the table before us.

Michael Jackson answered questions at a press conference. He raised his arm to wave and when it did, the commentary pointed out already on TV something that both of us had noticed just a fraction of a second before.

"Shit," I said.
"It is transforming. Shit, Hanuman, has started to become"

He raised his hand and we realized all of his wrist artificial. Much larger than the arm, a lump of flesh and bone popped out, uninvited, on that body. A dumpling square cock, perfectly square. The pulse of a Master of the Universe is mounted on a Barbie.
We froze. A mouthful of rice and a holy terror, but Jack waved his fake hand under our nose, hundreds of cameras away.

"He wants me to watch. I would keep hidden, otherwise, it has always done, "said Regina.
" Calm ... calm. I mean, let's think for a moment "
" There is nothing to think about. Is becoming "

A couple of days later, I'm here writing and sifting through photos of that press conference. There is a magnification that makes you see how on his wrist, see the lines, most of the joints. The skin is smooth as a plastic block. At 3:30 in the morning, I get scared looking at Big Jim's arm in the foreground.
So, I started thinking about it. And again and again and again. Why do I get the impression that curse Michael Jackson and delete it in time, has become a matter of life or death.

Destroy a piece of your life.
E 'was at this point, I've come up with this idea.
Destroy a piece of your life.

And if you alter or delete any post on this blog?

"Because what they are, what is Hanuman, is everything in this blog. If I write that I'm talking to you right now, for the reader, one thing is true. Whether it happened or not. But if I gate , then vice versa does not exist, never happened. Or was it correct , amended. It will never be as real as it was before, "says Regina.
"And if you create a short circuit? If you get stuck in, in all this? In short, you realize that you too could become less real? "
" Well ... Oh God, I do not think there is this risk. Well, not I want to erase everything and then ... and then you hear, I will not be the first or the only person who changes a post, delete it, it ... "

Again, Regina looked at me straight in the eye.
" Queen, what are you afraid? ", the I ask again.
"I have memories with you. Who will be in my memories? Hanuman before or after the editing of his life? And those memories will be worth something again? "
" I told you, I'm not the only one who ... "
" Hanuman, do not take me for a fool. I know how that is different "

Snorts. It reminds me of Eco, one of the last times I spoke with him and I said I was unconscious e. .. what else? dangerous, yes. Dangerous.
Yet, for a moment, shakes me doubt that I have always made this speech. That this speech is something that I do say, in a review of the chapter in which we discuss together.
Shit.

What really scares me is the air exalted in my eye, which goes hand in hand with the concern of Regina.
"Four chapters. Two lead them. Two correct them. Only two"
"I fear thee, Hanuman," whispered the Queen.

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Chapter twenty: Mapataranasalavaqadacaba



L ' Ubermaschinenmensch Hel opens its eyes to the world, in a throne of neon lit by a pentacle.
She looks at me. The weight of his gaze, beyond the screen, crushing me and I shrinks even more, in my chair, picnic in the dark.
I can not even tell if we are few or many, this afternoon screening of Metropolis . The room is small enough to seem full. Similarly, its own petty rows of chairs made of plastic, which are nailed film buffs who do not bite into a pop-corn, even by mistake, they all look to experience for a few close friends.
Mind you, not the Metropolis you're used to. E 'to Moroder, sepia music for the eighties. Tamarro , we call it here, without even wanting too see as a flaw. When the contours of

Oneiros dream began to fade, the drawing of the woman of iron has been the only thing still in my memory, along with the words thrown down in a hurry a chapter ago.
And when I read the projection of Metropolis, in a nearby community center, it seemed the only possible way to have some contact with a virgin robot.
Never been a type from the symbolism too refined, I will.

do not even know why they put under review. One explanation is: only a year ago, have made a lot 'of around projections on the discovery of who knows how many feet of film unpublished. Maybe, just arrived here are a bit 'late to ride the wave.
Another explanation: there is a projection because the plot that I am creating it was provided. Reasonable.

has subtitles in English. It 'exactly the same version that I downloaded from the internet I also.
Thus, while the face of Hel overlaps with that of the innocent Mary, creating a woman from the look much more oblique and bewitched, someone whispers in my ear a phrase, the chair just behind me.

"Do not look back. Listen to me and that's it. I know who you are and what you do"
am a little 'in silence. I nod. Meanwhile, before me, Dr. Rotwang - the scientist who created the woman robot - raises her hand pretending to claw the air in a gesture of triumph.
"Now I'll tell you two things. You shut up and listen."
The voice seems to roll words into one, music, hoarse whisper. Looks like a kid after all.
"You've already met the agents of consistency, right? Yes true, true. I need not nod. I hate people who nods.
" So I tell you this. Once there was a group of criminals Storytellers. It was the first to invent the use of sacred nickname by which baptized after the Rite of Babel. It was not just a matter of safety, they said. It was a way to demonstrate that our identity is not important that we tell what is important and not what we are.
"Therefore, instead of names, were baptized with the figures"

Hel, in its new version of Mary-Harlot-Babylon-dancing tits to the wind in the Yoshiwara district. For a moment, while they are concentrated to hear the story behind me, I have groped the irrational hope that desire, destroy, just me. But no, of course. Already has his audiences in the film.

Here She Comes, during his exploits in glowing eyes and fake seven-headed dragon.

"It was not over - the voice goes on - taught us that things change. Changing the stories, people change tells her. Laughed at Storytellers who came before them, of their being so tied to his personality, the role and attributes. They told us of being guerrillas, terrorists and revolutionaries of the noun. Encouraged us to share our names, to be a strange and shadowy power made of all-e-no.
"We liked it. Being none, he made us feel someone.
" Well, you said that things must change for the better. We got worse so thin, so thin that you do not have the time to notice it.
"Slowly, we saw them speak more and more often overlapped each other. When one starts a sentence, the other continued, another termination. It was annoying. He must be annoying for them, because the sentences began to be pronounced a little 'easier.
"This is just . This is not right. Okay . not good. The timing was dull and colorless. As one of the monks in monasteries. The faces, more and more white and thin. In lap of the week, it seemed that someone had already given a strip of rubber on their faces, to mess up the features. Within a month, the faces had turned completely white.

"Obviously, we care. We tried to call them by name. Bring her to him. Indeed, to hurt them. None. In a desperate attempt, we tried to divide them, abducting one.
"He wriggled like a madman. Kicked from all sides and continued to yell: are not a person! Are not a person, I am a number!
" You know what to do now? Help in raids against us. They entered the Other Side. They have become agents of Coherence "

wait a bit. 'I take a deep breath, and Metropolis is devastated by a flood in which people drowning in time Love Kills.
" Why are you telling me this? "The
voice breathes a laugh in my ear.
"Why is it our fault if you are so low. We made our teachers, our old friends essays . Bullshit. We did not see the truth. "
" And what is the truth? "
" We all become agents of consistency as they move forward. We all storytellers. The more our voice comes up, as there are people who listen to us and believe in what we do, the more tempted to switch to the other Party becomes untenable.
"We had to remove them in time. We should eliminate you. We should throw all under a train.
" You know what is the only moral imperative that is ours? DO. ALL. IL. MALE. POSSIBLE "

" The idea I like. But you're not even trying to teach you something now? "
The voice behind me is a laugh that slips into a hoarse sound, just like his voice. I fancy something back and low down, vertebra by vertebra. A nail very long, I would say.

Then, the voice whispers a word in my ear.
The word is the next step.

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I have nothing to say.
I close the blog.
E 'was great.

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chapter twenty-two: twenty Lamadazanacatavarafa



Two names, I wrote KDigger.
Oneiros. Mad Molly. This is the way to find Von Beck.

"The beginning and end of the journey, the rest of the hurry you alone:)", reads the paper they are written, and which surrounds a black brick, the LEGO.

Regina teaching me how to do Storytellers Criminals find someone or something. As usual, everything is played on the stories. It 'a disarmingly banal: if you do not know where what you're looking for, I'll invent it. Just have a beginning and an end of history.
So I take a sheet and write.

imagine a guy narcoleptic. He sleeps something like twenty ventun'ore day and slip into other people's dreams. And 'that guy who was driving the car in the shade, when we run away from dinosaurs. That is not too familiar voice behind you, just before the wave hit the city, to murmur that will happen soon. One with whom you went to spy on the aliens-and shade garden, you're sure, you've never seen before in a dream.

I write about him and whether he exists or not, I'm sure I will meet him chaotic in the deserts of REM sleep. I write until my eyes filled up with sleep, swollen and full of typos and incorrect repetitions.

So without realizing it, slip in a phone booth and I realize I'm late. Late to warn you that I come late, that I can not hurry, it was time when I was reminded of watching the clock.
I'm calling at the same time in Regina, my parents, to an old friend that I forgot the voice (and anyway, so do not talk about even now). I throw the coins into the slot. I do not remember the number. Then I remember and I can not type it. I always make a mistake. Hanging up, I resume the handset. Try typing again and throw a punch on the phone. The chips do not fall down. I wonder if I have another?
Five seconds later I'm already at the library, the usual. What is concurrently in the middle of the cornfield and in the subway of Bologna, next to a maze of windows unimportant. I do not know if I could call. Theoretically I should have made it, since the appointment was here.
rummaged among the models of Mazinga on the shelf. As usual, I do not know whether to be disappointed or not: how many times, as this is the library, which contains all the stories and characters of the world, there's never what I want. Or too expensive. For some strange reason, almost always I leave empty handed from here.
There was one exception, I think. Once but, as I was leaving, I already realize that the only way to enjoy everything that I had taken was to stay forever.

Oneiros is next to me. Can not I look better, it's like to remain always on the edge of perception. Something familiar, however, has none. I do not know what.
"We have been chasing a giant deer, when we were kids," he explains.
Yes, I nod. Yes, it must be that.
Near him two strange guys, a man and a woman.
She is dressed as a nurse. He latex gloves, blacks, who come up to the elbows. The apron is latex black. The mask that covers the face, and a glimpse of just two bright eyes of a cat, with vertical pupil.
He bows as an actress on stage, holding both edges of the dress.
"We already know - she tells me - I am the one you sewed the arm old ... again." He laughed a little, with a male voice suddenly.
The other has a mask, to the Venetian. I can not understand well the rest is as if the eye of the excluded, except for a white, slightly electric. It makes me a smile full of sharp teeth.
"I am what I ate the old man." He chuckled, his voice suddenly women.
I say hello. I can be and not be scared at the same time. It 's a strange feeling, it makes me feel somewhat ... fig. So here is yes. Damn cool.

"I'm looking for Von Beck," I say to Oneiros.
Oneiros nods. "He's looking for you. Do you know what Neue Ende?"
"It 'a song by Einsturzende Neubauten, I think"
"That's Ende Neu - he says, shaking his head - Here, this one I designed for you"

I take the package to me is holding out: the 'crazy nurse and the smiles have long carnival mask and the air of one who could lick his arm to treason.
On the sheet metal is drawn to a woman.
"What?"
"Decidilo you. Inventatelo. What comes out is your next step," he says Oneiros. Or perhaps the woman with cat eyes. Or maybe the one in white cabinet. I do not know.
My forehead is a bit 'choppy, when I get back at him. "Thanks," I say.
"With a dick - the harlequin white grins - I believe it was free?"
Oneiros shrugs as if to say I do mica the rules. The nurse mad laughs, gently taking his hand to his mouth, hidden by the mask.

"It 's time to switch weapons", says the harlequin, two fingers pointing at the head mo' gun.

BANG!, And I centered in the head just between, on the forehead.
"Ajna Chakra!" He says, while my thoughts sink out of the hole that I did.

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Chapter: Chapter Pazaramalafatadanagabacasa




A comment on last post leads me to do a search on the Internet, frenzied and very, very worried.
make it rain on my monitor dozens of folders gossip, photos, rumors and assumptions, conspiracies and secrets revealed. An i-ching of web addresses fired at random. A series of responses to death by Google, says the Web

The answer is always the same. You do the short, so the sources can test yourself on any search engine or your favorite tabloid. Michael
Jackson's dying.
Some say that his vision has decreased by 95% in one eye. More that the skin is crumbling and that the lungs are giving up. The majority of my friends who is within certain speed, you know what, also mentions a couple of additions: that, to keep in force, its content based food for human flesh is slightly increased and that his left eye - for about twenty minutes - he lost material substance is transformed into a tangle of broken sounds.

For a few days living in the knowledge that, for the first time in my life, I'm killing a man. My head is a shake of guilt and delusions of omnipotence, so that not even understand how to best distinguish the two sensations.
I do not know how to move, what to do. A very human thought to have been a terrible mistake, that. Others, equally human, and much more bitch, but he believes that - if that is a minimum retribution - at least I should melt in the sun or explode in consecrated ground. Another part
still, very irrational and simian, is simply curious to know how it will end. I think that this will eventually follow. As usual.

However, I think, too, that keep everything inside will bear the worst damage possible. And my pink confident in this sort of thing is far from unlimited.

ends that me and Regina, on the balcony of his house, the computer is on our shoulders, in the kitchen. Winamp will not start by itself, playing a betrayal of the Joy Division. But she winces amused and launched anyway Love Will Tear Us Apart .
It 's been a lot of time since we last met. The one where I kissed her. Days when we did not feel we have grown and the bramble of embarrassment that now unites us and stings.

you know? Think about how that, in some ways, it was the worst kiss in which I could perform. Fragile, fast, nervous. If you consider that I spend my days kissing people, you could grant me that I deserved more.
And the more I think about it, the more I feel unable to tell any one sentence, to initiate any conversation. I will just live the curse of the people who feel more distant: see the beauty could not happen to like never before. The little things, shake hands or arms to keep out the cold, the warm breath blowing away from his lips like cigarette smoke. The eyes that open on dark skin, embracing the dark.
E 'embarrassed as I am. One wonders why I have sought her own, and why she agreed to see me.

"You still Von Beck?" She asks after a while '.
"Because of the importance it may have. It seems to me that the idea of \u200b\u200bkilling Michael Jackson is a bit 'escaped my control"
"They have denied, I read it today. It seems very well is"
"And you believe?"

He shrugs. "I do not know. Maybe it's happening more violent version of what has happened to you. It's changing. ... A drastic change and if it is so painful, I could swear that he knows that someone wants to kill him. Maybe he does not know who you are, but what do you want to do so. The name change, transformation ... can not be explained otherwise "
nod, saying nothing. Just a sip the cup of instant coffee that I brought out.
"Are you afraid?", Then asks me with a strange sense of apprehension.
"I'm afraid you're not right. I'm afraid ..."
"... that certain things work, I am "she anticipates.

nodded again." But it's because some things work, that I do "
" I understand all too well, believe me, "she says, breath - for the first time in the evening - a smile on the cheek.

We are looking at. It 's ridiculous to think that we are really looking into the eyes just now, the beginning of the evening. Perhaps it is this sense of the ridiculous to gobble up the distance between us.
We smile at each other, in sync send down another sip of coffee and this time the smile tinkles with laughter itself.
remain silent and there to enjoy the right, coming back to stare at every now and staying in apnea words.

"I thought my friend."
"Who?" I asked Regina.
"Wait, you tell it well. You must know that there has been a summer where I worked in a charity flea market. It was run by the Franciscans, they made us move furniture and televisions across the courtyard of their convent
"I offend when I say that I do not give the impression of a person accustomed to toil?"
"No, you're right. In fact, to honor the brave brothers I drank bad before you start work, so that a bit drunk smaltisse 'fatigue'.
Queen shakes his head, resigned. "Go ahead."
"Well ... we were a lot of outside work, and in this pile, there was Julia. It seemed the traditional Irish type: you know, her hair a bit 'wavy, reddish, freckles and a little' pale. A few years older than me, which I usually stirs up a lot "

" Well, "said the Queen, entering for a moment to fill two cups of coffee.
Scotta, when he hands me mine. There is also a time when I wonder if it would make more sense talking inside the house.'s snowing outside, however, and the snow trumps all, when you see it against the lamplight. And when your friend, next door, leans his arms to catch a bow.
"Continue," he says Regina. Continuo.

"Well, Julia drew comics. He said he was spending hours, to do so. I've never seen anything her, but I had not the slightest doubt that she was a goddess of the pencil. I do not even know why. There are those who speak of their passion as fans who devote all. And only by virtue of this, do not you dare ever doubt that they are masters of "
" I type this, "she nods, with a smile that widens when finally able to catch a snowflake.

" At the time I drew myself. That is, I copied most of the bad shots, ass and anatomy. It was the time when I read of albetti Sandman, Hellblazer and Devilman compulsively. As you can imagine, it was comic books that attack button with me and Julia. I do not remember Who began. We talked about stories in which we were passionate, committed people. She listened carefully, always gave the impression of considering all full of interest, whether they know it already or not. It's funny to think that, right now, can not remember at all what he liked her.
"You two would you go along, I think. Often take the bus, and hated the people who sat silent and clinging to the seat. I swear, I'm not making up: when did not make it any more. After first minutes of the trip, stood up and began to ask everyone what their favorite Chaplin film "

" You're right ... I would have liked a lot, "chuckles the Queen, smiling at me from behind rim cup of coffee.
"... I do not know if I had a crush. Sometimes I think I'm more in love now I can talk about that then. Then I considered neither a friend nor a possibility, but both of these things together. Someone you've found, here. Even if our hours spent together were only those of our work and talk only about those comics.
"Well, the summer ended. We lost touch, it was a bit 'from script. From here on, I do not know what happened, because all the things I know from here on out, come from stories I heard about.
"They said they had gone down to the head. At first, she was convinced to see the angels. To hear the voices.
"I think I would have believed even then. Besides, I thought to PK Dick when he said to see the Light Pink, or when Artaud wrote that entire areas of Paris traffic was blocked, to allow his enemies to curse at a distance . I believed a lot of dead people before me ... because I should not have to give credit to Julia? But, of course, I was there with her "Queen

me gets a little 'closer. "And those who stood beside him, who believed?"
"No. Well, I admit that it would take a mind a bit 'open. Portrait on the angels and said to be possessed by the devil. Then, again, took dancing angels and said that they were, to invasive. At the end put all agree and came up with the story that was possessed by fairies. The doctors filled with drugs and took off the thought. And she could no longer do without.
"I've never seen again. There was a time when I wrote that I wanted very well, for what little we had known. What could count on me for anything. I never said"

Queen remains silent, sipping coffee. It 'now close, very close.
"Do not get me wrong. I told you not because I fear that we will end up like this, or ..."
"... but only because sometimes you think it did not take much, maybe meet up now and not before, because her story ended well. And still other times, you fear that being happy is a matter of right hands at the right time
"Yes," I say. And I can not say more, because his voice choking me something before he can move forward.

Queen embraces me, holds me and I cling tight to her. I feel her breath on my neck, the string harder. She holds me stronger.

We detach only when we realize that my cup of coffee flew off the balcony.