When i was a child, every time i had to write some paper, i was starting with the following line, from left to right: ‘name’, ‘second-name’, ‘third name’, ‘surname’, ‘place’, ‘date[day:month:year]’.

Writing on the net is different, the place is not important, it is not part of the *post_description* …


So, out of the form, i want to underline the fact i am currently in Oslo, capital of Norway. I came here because of a transnational-hackers-meeting. Today the local, conservative newspaper had a double page dedicated to the event, describing what a hacker is in opposition to the cracker, the ‘bad guy’, the criminal dangerous one who compromised the pure creative hackers’ fame. Few lines about the wiki concept, the massive presence of italians but not much more. In Norway people still think that hackers are bad criminal whose main interests is opening stupid personal mails of boring people and guess passwords that obvious you don’t even get to enjoy.

Sorry, i am not a hacker and also i do not read my own mails, so why should i read yours just because you cannot make up a decent password?

A beautiful girl, while we were visiting the radio of Blitz, literally freaked out: "This is the most violent situation i have ever been in my life: a room full of hackers! I am not going to talk to you, i am not going to tell you my name, you will open my mailbox and so on…"

"Do you think you still have an email address?" i ask, really attracted by her red dress, and the white skin and the big tits… ;p

Summer is hot this year in the North, and, as usual, the night is never coming. At eleven you have a sunset, for a couple of hours is presumingly dark, actually a sort of extended twilight, and the light comes up bright again. It is confusing, i have to say.

I like Norway, and now, now that i feel completely free, now that i am seeking for a new structure, and a different life, i think i would like to spend some months here, as a fall-back place to do be and create.

I left Amsterdam really wet, wet wet wet in any sense you can imagine. In dutch they say there were raining dogs and cats! I was really excited and late as i normally am (always for the last time), because infact the next months will be ace and variate for me. I will be traveling all around, i will be in Rome tomorrow, and then, then Milan, and maybe Barcelona, Lecce, for sure Sao Paolo, in August. People wonder how can i be so broke and travel that much… it is a trick, called art. It works eventually, but you need to be ready all the time. 

I do not know where will i be, after these months of nomadism. I know what i will do, and thats enough. I hope i will find a long long hug to fall and fool on when i will be back in Europe. I can imagine myself being a bit uncomfortable, maybe sleeping on the roof of the Damrak 16 for a few days, because it does not feel as good to be in a box called room, in a bed which seems a cage, and so on.

Norway is not Europe, they have petrol and salmon, and lots of money. As well they have a king, and the contradiction is there, but none seems to be any bothered within the best anarchist context, either.  

The hackmeeting happened in Humla, in the big social space named Hausmania. There were few people, kinda 60 if much, but all what the organization could deal with, according to the fact the sleeping place was full. But thats not much and i wonder where are the hackers and whether it is still relevant to talk about an international hackers community. I think it is, infact i came.

Communities are nowadays trendy, it is the web.2 must. If you are not a community, you are nothing, or no-one. In art it feels the same,  if what you say is not followed by a shared group, you can just shut up.

I run away to be alone for a bit, maybe thinking of what it could be, in a web.x environment.  The will to connect is there, and i find myself again, as a lonely soul spread in different places and times, with a one constant element: the net. The net is there for me, my house were i can be comfortable, switching off the lights in a known toilette in the dark, drinking a usual coffee on my favorite digital chair.

I will trace my traveling within this blog, as well i will try to say something interesting to the others, because infact what is normal to me might be an exception for someone else. So i wonder whether i should tell my story…

I am crazy for a song, lately,  ‘Almaost a kiss’ by Throbbing Gristle.

I paste here the lyrics, as i could transcribe it:

Whenever i see you in my eyes
Whenever i love you i realize
Whenever you are lost again
Try to hold me you say you are all my friend

I see you lying in bed
I know you never kiss

Almaost A Kiss
Almaost A Kiss

Almoast slight piece
Almaost A Kiss

Almaost A Kiss

And i see you as a hip fire
The object of someone else’s desire

You are a lot low
Looking down from above
You fake me like a shranken  glove
Almaost A Kiss
Almaost A Kiss

And i am lost one more time
I really want to climb back
I’ll never let you go
Never tell me

And i am lost one more time
I really want to climb back
I’ll never let you go
Never tell me

Never tell me that this is all

Almaost A Kiss
Almaost A Kiss

I am lost anyway
One more time who cares
I am not counting any day

From my eyes
I know why
I never realize

Can i see you one more time?

And i love you, will you be mine?
You changed the story have you?
Trying to tell this mystery
What we have now is someone else’s history
I know what we have is someone else’s history
Someone else’s history
Someone else’s history
Someone else’s history
 

I  really like the point were the story gets changed, as it can happen in love and life sometimes, and memory becomes someone else’s history… but i am not counting any day, lost in a story which is not mine! Facing the fact your love could be ‘The object of someone else’s desire’ is a pretty strong everyday piece of shit you might not like but still eat, imho. A hip fire, a thought can kill. But waiting for a kiss, or almaost a kiss, can be a great adventure, a brave game i recently played, and the score is now 1 – 0. What it will be, i cannot know yet. It is a kind of a hack, waiting before the flight of senses!