When I’ve found out that in my bank account there were only 25€ left i’ve felt a jolt of fear running along my spine.

I’m a girl, so I do shopping, right?

That means some of the money have gone for the usual useless things a girl needs (or she thinks she needs)

But it’s not the stupid shopping what ruins me.

What ruins me so bad  is the absolute stinginess in deciding salaries of people working in my field. 

The paradox is clear and I can sum it up in a few points:

1. People who study fashion, attend expensive private schools, most of the times facing big economical sacrifices.

2. They are taught very little but their minds are pumped up and moulded in terms of glory and money this job will bring into their lives once they start working.

2B (VIP. very important point). They start becoming horrible people too. Who embraces the fashion world, empathizing with the know-it all stylist role, completely fucks his/her brain up.

3. So people can’t wait to finish school and start the job of their dreams.

They also congratulate with themselves thinking how cunning they have been when they decided to undertake this carrier!

4. Once they got a degree, SURPRISE!
School promised to help out with placing them somewhere, but  run away with your money slamming doors in front of their faces instead.

Therefore the new young fashion designers find themselves thrown in an alarming over-saturated market and world where there’s NO space for beginners.

Companies search for young people to hire as interns (that means..working for free) but with experience (which is a fuckin joke!).

Those who get a better job is never better. They all end up doing all the shit work for the rest of their life. And there’s no carrier advancement. No way. The seniors take root and turn the other people lives a hell.

5. Salaries are jokes as well. Meagre money. And no pay rise. NO pay rise.

To make it short:

In the end that beautiful Marni coat  you have drawn, that was on the catwalk and now in big stores, doesn’t show your name and it costs more that 1,000$ (of course, which has been paid 5 to 10$  to the chinese tailor who sewn it all night and day).
You gained 500 or less in one month to sweat blood and be just a unidentified number among many. No thanks, no gratifications.

That was the glory you were promised?

Walking in front of the shopping window and see a piece of fabric on a deformed mannequin?

Or do you prefer when you see it on some rich fuckface with a wallet your pockets won’t ever ever see, in 100 years of hard-working neither? Oh.

A personal satisfaction won’t feed your stomach and pay bills.




That’s simply insane.
Fashion’s a circus, a clowning.
It’s silly.
Like people taking it seriously.

I hate people living it just like it was real life.

Sometimes I believe being a prostitute is a job that would give me more dignity.

It’s creepy.
And I’m still warning whoever wants to choose it as a carrier.
It’s not like before. It’s not Chanel in the 20’s.

Or Armani and Prada in the 80’s.

The world was empty.

Everyone could impress and be the one.



So go. Go and fight for a miserable salary.
Go and have a meal with some other’s life to survive. 


Nice job this one, ah!

Oh fuck it.

Lilyx

Yesterday while i was getting down to a circle pit, having a fucking good time, I’ve realized how little was the crowd for Bring Me the Horizon. And I’ve realized also how much I’ve suddenly felt in peril because anti-death metalcore people looked like angry ogres ready to chop our heads off.  

Bring Me the horizon was  (…amazing) actually the band which had less to do with all the others (still i wonder which logic was applied in the planning of the tour), but they played so good and I admire how good they were at keeping the concentration too, while all around me, a mass of ignorant fuckers started raging them after the third song. Animals. 

I’m just utterly amazed by the stupidity of metallers when they are all together.

I suppose their brain cells attract each others, collapse and explode. Or self-destroy. If you shake their head it’s like shaking those Christmas balls with fake snow inside (but you shake dundruff off their hair instead).

I expected it, but it’s unfair to have a gig ruined in the intermissions by deafening whistles and loud fuck offs.

If they had had bottles they would have pissed in them and thrown them on stage. 

“We want Machine Head, go the shit out of here, you faggots”.

Not the mention a riot was almost avoided when they put on 10secs of a Skrillex remix before the starting of a new song. Oh, fuck..what’s the fuckin matter?

Why do you have to be so bad? Just go and have beer if you don’t want to listen to who you know you don’t like. If you stay and you don’t move is because you like to watch them! So sew your mouth, which is good only at burping and go head-banging and spreading dundruff and hair all around instead of yelling in my ear “Oh c’moon, this is shit, this is music for pussies, these are all fags!”.

I’d like to listen, shut the hell up. Thank you. 

Actually I don’t know why they get so mad. It’s just 7 songs for God’s sake. They won’t steal stage and time to your fuckin Machine Head. You’ll have your stupid show. The 40 euros ticket will be paid off. So stop being such beasts. What’s that with the cursing and stuff? Is there any use?

You stupid nerds who will probably wank off on sleep-inducing 20minutes long guitar solos and have limp dicks when it’s time to make out with girls.

Oliver might be a faggot for you, with that as-you-called-it emo hair and all over tattooes, but in the meanwhile he’s on a stage with an amazing band (not you, with yours that still make rehearsals playing ancient, paleolithical covers) and he has shitloads of money too. Which means that even if he is an asshole he must have done something very intelligent in his life.

And in all of this, you’re still down in the row, whistling and telling him to fuck off with your 2inches dirt crust on your skin and leather clothes and boots that make mushrooms growing inside? I guess you are the losers. Not him or the band or the music they play.

I don’t want to be a moralizer. Once I posted a drawing with the sentence “I judge people by their music taste”. I admit that I need particular affinities to find someone interesting and I am more attracted by people who have good tastes and knowledge in music, because that’s my field and I like to be surrounded my people I feel similar to. But this is such a banal quote, that’s so silly to even mention it! We wouldn’t be called in different ways if we were all alike and even genres wouldn’t exist.

Let me say, I don’t like to generalize, I know it’s bad and that’s why i don’t actually snub people if they don’t like what i listen. I give them a chance if it happens to have a talk. In my life I’ve probably discriminated too, but at least I let it happens only in my head.

And there’s nothing wrong with it.

People by nature search for similarities. 

And we must not necessarely like each other.

In the end there’s something in the way some people think and live that makes me dismiss them immediately. And I promise I tried to get along with everyone but it just doesn’t work. So I really though Machine Head and all the others were shit. The bad one, really. That kind of shit you think “Oh my god, please stop it” but I simply left the club, I didn’t shout it out in the middle of the crowd, spitting on other people’s head and waving fuck fingers up.

Civilize yourself.

You’re fouls.

 Lily x

What I hate the most is when you realize you are golden dust,  the black swan, the donut without the hole, whatever you prefer. The only one who listens to stuff that no one is listening and that if I wish that particular band to came to Italy for a gig, it would be better to invest my time, just sitting and waiting for the coming of the Messiah.

Or save money to book a flight to a random date somewhere in the world. 

Usually i like to spend hours on the web, reading about tour info and updates, and when the dates are announced, it is annoying to see how in terms of locations and european cities, they get close to the border and then dodge it dexsterously. Like when you play minigolf and you hit the ball and the ball goes towards the hole, approaches, but then for some strange law of physics, suddenly it turns around and shoots straight! That’s what they do. The bands that I love, obviously. And I honestly cannot blame them, since the music scene in Italy is a massive shit and before coming here I guess they cash well up. Why taking the risk when they can be much more appreciated, get better money and have a better crowd response somewhere else, right?

Of course, sometimes it also happens that they come here when they’re still unknown (even to themselves) in order that I promptly don’t know they are having a concert and I miss them.

But I was also considering another dose of nuisance.

Looking for some new music suggested by radios and networks, my bf said “They all sound the same” and fucking hell, he’s so right. I’m still trying to hear the shades in the songs but actually they’re all surrogates. Because all and sundry is playing nowadays.

And it’s hard to distinguish what has a real value and what hasn’t in the basket of good buys. 

I don’t remember where i read it (on another blog maybe): they were funnily suggesting to petition in order that good quality bands, pioneers and those that have been the first ones, should make a strike or something like that: stop playing, touring, planning gigs, writing songs and recording albums. Total silence. A world without music. Dreadful but necessary. Until we don’t get the lesson learnt. In this way, all the spreading bad taste and the waste would be punished and real artists could get back the room occupied by those asses that don’t deserve a sit. We need a huge clear up that overcomes all the shit promoted out there. Fakes, record companies’ puppets, marketing gimmicks, blowjobbers, assfuckers and viceversa, bad singers, beginner-players, all! Swept away.   

That would be like breathing some cool air for a while.

 *******************************************************************

I love the fact that I was born in the 80’s and the best things in music has been  done when I was living my adolescence. If I were a teenager today, I’d be so fucked up and miserable, picking up only the crumbs and the wake of what has been great in the past years and now is totally blurred and overwhelmed.

How cool we were. How kickass and powerful music used to be.

Then Bring me the Horizon arrived and I don’t know why, but I’ve felt an Era suddenly changing.

Ahahahahah!

I miss my seventeen, the shut the fuck ups and bring it ons, the absolut carelessness in dressing up, the first fringe, the first piercings and the pair of slip on at my feet, the loose, dirty and torn pants, the satisfaction when buying an original record, going to gigs waving horns in the air, the music magazines, the crossover and nu metal bands posters, the high school diaries covered in pictures, the sit ins in front of Mtv offices to meet bands and get a piece of arm or paper signed …(:

Nostalgia.

Let’s play music in our own head, which is better.

Lily x

Here’s my soundtrack for today. It’s the thing that mostly reminds me of YOU right now. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMF972rmOl8

(Just to be online with the England theme, of course)

I have a knot in my throat and stomach, just like when you are caught by a stroke of homesickness and melancholy. When you think “Oh my god, i can’t take it, i wanna cry”  and you think your struggle for happiness and seeking for the life you have displayed in your dreams, is just behind the corner, just a few give-ups and choices to make- away from you. But you still have your legs shaking, because you are scared to fuck up everything and throw yourself in adventures.

To be totally banal I’ll say you’ve been rad, my dear city. Rad. 

As I expected you to be, honestly.  

I miss everything from the very moment I lose the perception of you in front of my eyes.

I know you by heart and that doesn’t still make me sated. I keep walking along your streets in the most unbearable periods of the year and you give me shiny days so i fall in love with you even more and when i leave, it’s the sky above you crying tears of sadness, because the plane never take off without trickles of rain streaming down the window. Do you wanna tell me something? Too scary to be a coincidence. So I guess it must be as I presume.

I keep trying the same things and visit the same places and you always look better. You probably move stuff, that’s what you do. You’re like a mischievous kid. So i expect to find a thing at its place as i used to remember, but nothing is at its place. It looks always different. So it worth looking at it once again, doesn’t it? You taught me that I always have to run behind you to keep up the pace, this is probably the reason why you leave me so hungry and unsatisfied and you’re like the mermaids’ singing to me so I always go back to your arms.

How does that happen, I wonder. 

London.

I wish I could lean every night my head on a pillow, in a bed, in a small dusty and smelly flat, in a random district of yours. Those places at the last floor of a block of flats among others terraced houses. A mansarda with flowery scraped wallpapers and where walls are so thin you can hear what people say in the other room, where the carpets are filthy and windows don’t close well and there are draughts of wind in winter. I’d love to have my wardrobe at sight, have my kettle on ready for tea, and eat my dinner on the bed in front of the tv with a cover on my knees and a fat cat yawning next to me, and watch out of the window at night and see all the lights shimmering on your head while you’re about to go to sleep with me. Waking up in the morning and dress up randomly like all people do and never mistake the matchings, and head to work with a hot walking cup of Cappuccino in my hand. And go back at night, throw my shoes in a corner have a bath, crunching some stuff and hang out with my friends to some pub where they put only rock music on and there I’d meet loads of other cool faces that would make my life even better and richer and booze till it’s closure time and go back home slightly fuddled and lay in my bed again, still wearing my clothes and thinking that everything is amazing and crying my eyes and mascara out because i am finally happy.      

That’s how I want my life to be right now.

I swear, nothing else.

I don’t want anything else.

Lily x