My journey through final clearances and friends’ move-outs continues, and I’ve realized I’m out of shape. For a while, I actually worked in removals, and I have to tell you, I even liked it in certain situations. The only thing I hated were the boss’s sudden mood swings. However, the real reason I quit wasn’t even the fact that he paid me “under the table”; it was the tendons in my arms—I was afraid of compromising my passion for music.

Some might argue that music has never brought me anything other than emotional and psychological rewards, plus a significant financial drain between equipment, recordings, and promotion. But I have something inside that pushes me to keep going; maybe it’s the idea that passions are the only stimulus to live that I have… I’ll reflect on that.

I also thought about my house in Aprilia. I expected to feel moved in some way, but instead—nothing. A place without the people who shared it with me doesn’t evoke a damn thing. I’ve put the house up for sale to fund my music promotion, because when you’re a nobody, nobody else finances you. I’ll keep being an artist my own way, and let’s be clear: if I ever get on stage, I’ll wear a costume. I’ve always been fascinated by the stage presence of Wes Borland, the guitarist from Limp Bizkit; he used face and body paint, whereas I’ll use masks, wigs, and costumes, should the chance to perform on stage ever materialize.

As I said a while ago, I hate seeing myself on video. I find myself hideous and awkward, and the conviction that I look bad on camera would inhibit my emotions during a performance. Instead, I want to be carried away by the music—to move like those plants you find in big department stores that dance in response to sounds, noises, and vibrations. You make music to have fun and to get high on the music itself.

I forgot to mention that the only thing I’m truly sorry to leave behind are the cats living in the garden of the house in Aprilia. I’ve pampered and spoiled them since they were born. A little calico kitten has always had the habit of climbing up my leg all the way to my face to greet me; she’s done it since before I even started giving her catnip treats! I wanted to take her home to Rome, but besides the fact that looking after another living being is a major commitment (and veterinarians take total advantage), I figured that taking her away from her habitat would be an act of gratuitous violence against a cat used to hunting mice, sleeping in the grass, and going wherever she pleases. An apartment would have depressed her.

I’m going through a period of major changes and departures. Logically, I’ll adapt, just as I have in the past, but right now I’m tired. I sent a CV to a company that manages hospital porters; I’m not crazy about the idea, but it would be a very useful job to help me better tackle the promotion of my tracks. Not much is moving on the music front—almost nothing, actually—and the situation is discouraging, but as I always say: it only takes one.

Talk soon.