smithereens

from notebooks, diaries, sheets, margins of books by Pasquale Cacchio (1975-2020)

Cassandra will never be believed, but today she can’t even be heard.
Faced with a danger the cat and the mantis react in the same way, blowing and arching sideways.
Not even a universal cataclysm will unaccustom him to machines.
So far we have calculated the distance that separates us from the animals, it is time to calculate their proximity.
Like a blue rose, aberration of nature.
Insect survival systems have been blown up in a matter of time; for millions of years, Silvio, no insect had ever died with its paws in the air on a bathroom tile.
We now live by hearsay.
Even among journalists someone like Giuseppe D’Arimatea.
A breath of jazz and so-called classical music takes breath again.
Since they cannot be noble, they buy their villas.
The blues, the last remnant of disappeared cultures, as a background for striptease and detective films.
A Christian Sappho? A Jewess, Simone Weil.
Who knows what the night butterflies eat. For days I have one motionless on the tent.
A rich man was being buried with his wealth, now not even the watch on his wrist.
The Eternal God supplanted by the god State.
Candy for children, retirement for old people, so they are quiet.
He boasts of his sexual prowess but a grasshopper can boast of it better.
The state gives everything in exchange for everything else.
The Greek could not imagine a slaughterhouse for the Minotaur.
Culture is no longer transmitted from father to son but from news to news.
No more country rats artists, only sewer rats.
A hermit on the fifth floor of an apartment building.
He discovered a small idea and you discover it in every new publication of him.
God is a sly smile.
For a more comfortable world we find ourselves in a uglier world.
Plato loved beautiful lies, we ugly truths.
Expelled the confessor from the door, he returned from the window disguised as a psychoanalyst.
We believe in news more than in our five senses.
All in prison, free to discuss how to furnish the cell.
Things are thought to change by changing their names.
To buy time you lose space.
The commonplace spares you the minimum of reflection that the proverb required.
How do you do with a day without news?
We are free to express opinions, not feelings.
We will be able to plan everything, but not dreams.
If now the word becomes meat, it is slaughter meat.
Fads will pass, but not the necktie.
Thales’ water is not H2O.
He also knows the thought of the greatest Dante critic of Papua.
Writers with content without shapes (stones, gems, potatoes) and writers with shapes without content (bottles, baskets, trays).
The West in search, the East in recognition of the truth.
The nose will end up feeling just reeks of cigarettes.
Our actions are no longer news.
They have made an audience among the workers, but frequent the salons of the bosses.
The concept of progress, excellent screen for the money.
He is Christian enough not to seem it. Bloy. Bernanos.
There are children here who are pointing naked king?
The voice coming out of the choir is no longer interned, but the microphone is removed from it.
I water the plants and ruin the cobweb to the stunned spider for that new type of storm.
Having lost faith, hope and charity, we remain confident in science, which however is not a goddess.
As a punishment they will not have fairy tales to tell children.
The irony was digging, now is demolishing.
At one thirsty for justice is given to drink a new law.
The earthly paradise has become the dustbin of the Milky Way.
As soon as he listens to a new opinion, he makes a new one.
To render harmless a Pasolini turn it into literature.
Night parks for fireflies and stars.
We have power over the genetic code of animals, but we lost the words we used to approach them.
The mere word vacation rages me.
As soon as you update you must update.
They took everything from us to give it back for a fee.
Science is now based on the see-what-happens-if principle.
The stars have been robbed of their ancient southern names.
Never art has worked so well.
Ancient and modern logicians have damned themselves a lifetime to look for the forms of correct reasoning and look with what results.
The drilling rigs didn’t find the monsters sleeping in the bowels of the earth, they didn’t dig enough.
Among the worms that devour cheese there is freedom, equality and brotherhood. 67
Did children in other societies commit suicide?
Education tends to the same learnings of the same teachers for the same pupils of the same schools with the same goals.
To sell forks must wean people to eat with their hands.
In the same tone of voice, the news of a cataclysm and the latest brand of soap.
Are the mountain tops still sleeping, Alcmane?
Everything organized, whatever place you occupy you are replaceable with another.
The purpose of the earth was not a single species!
Not even the pride of rejecting the tie.
The polytheists had stones, rivers, mountains, plants and divine animals, monotheists sacrifice them to their one true God.
Man gets used to everything, with stinks, noises and horrendous shows, but not his dreams.
You could have written a Don Quichotte in prison, but now they are denying a pen and paper to a Cervantes.
Sacred music, born amidst incense smells, it now smells of evening clothes.
Women who aspire to occupy places that males themselves should be ashamed of.
Animals programmed for the industrial production.
In banks and supermarkets the silence once reserved for sacred places.
What is the use of looking for reasons at the end of time?
Freedom of what thought?
Free in everything, except in what was once considered necessary.
With the sensitivity of a Leopardi you are taken for a psychologically ill.
Even back in the dust has become expensive.
In the farmers’ houses there was a small entrance for cats, the cat flap.
The actor no longer knows how to imitate the voices and looks of gods.
You can finally catch a glimpse of a star among the night lamps and it is an artificial satellite.
Neither comic nor tragic, the comedy is over.
A dam is enough to wipe out an environment of millions of years.
The child who points to the naked king is rude.
Last gasp the Sixty-Eight.
No longer life, but survival in parks and museums.
A pause of silence during a conversation and it’s panic.
The voice that screams like a desert reed is breathless.
Will any of you leave an oral memory?
History has become the bourgeoisie’s family album.
Homer’s attentive listener helped him remember, the distracted to improvise.
Nothing more with your own hands.
What is still beautiful will be put on the market.
The presence of God is more formidable than that of the atom, but, although no one has ever seen, heard, touched, sniffed, tasted an atom, it exists more than God.
The reason is the instinct of man, God does not need to reason.
They assure you that they have eradicated past diseases to prepare you to endure those of the future.
In millions of years no living being had died squeezed, riddled, shattered, melted, pulverized, crushed in an instant, never nature had produced a death as violent as the machine.
Those a happy past, us a happy future, those the golden age or the heavens of earth, we progress.
Chickens have been deprived of the right to shave the soil, pigs to roll in the mud, donkeys to exist.
We know an infinitesimal of time and space and we are sure that we have discovered the structure of matter.
We have enormous power over nature, but without taste.
Jazz will survive as academic music.
After universal peace they will not rest.
There’s nothing to believe in, so you believe the latest weirdness offered by the market.
His pen is a feather so light it doesn’t touch things.
If the soul were not immortal, they wouldn’t know what to do with it.
The wise knows better what he does not know.
Even the cicada would like to live forever.
The director makes sure that the actor doesn’t understand what he does and that he doesn’t do what he understands.
The blood of the martyrs is no longer fertile, it ends up on the asphalt.
The poet got rid of meter and rhyme to become a slave to literary fashions.
Our rites are a minute’s silence.
All knowledge courts the scientific method, apart from mathematics, which, however, has passed from goddess to servant.
With those things there, whatever they’re called, we think we’re better off than the ancients.
They were worse off than us, but they sang and whistled all day.
Bats’ dreams, upside down.
While burning the house makes considerations about the beauty of the fire.
Art has lost the delirium of muses.
As if there could be one happy species at the expense of all the others!
Women smile of the shies, properly of those who crowd their dreams.
Nietzsche is being polished by his detractors.
It is not time for details, it is time to go to the point, without style.
The West wants to know, the East also to ignore.
At the same time billions of people the same news, the same comments, the same opinions.
We deride the life of the primitives, we don’t even have a life.
The slave could look the master in the eyes, we could not.
We do not have an individual peace and we invoke universal peace.
With her little voice and her little tits used to promote a new deodorant, we are in Kali Yuga.
They accumulate money, but they have less and less of it than those who have more.
A misfortune, a carnage, nothing is the object of tragedy; the tragedy required the presence of a god.
We have no knowledge of our own to pass on to our children.
Pascal abandons that science that was all for Descartes.
He had never come to so much superstition, ignorance, impiety, lying, bad taste, and in the meantime presumes to have reached a civilization superior to all others.
Those gizmos would be useful if they represented not only their amusements but also their death.
Science explains, doesn’t understand, says how, not why.
Here is our musician, he cannot play what he composes nor does he know how to compose what he plays.
Alchemy in search of the philosopher’s stone, the chemistry of the elixir of long life.
As long as possible an insignificant life.
The thought of death must be removed with a holiday.
Isn’t he the only animal always in heat?
Silenced by the sound of the wind, only the thunder shakes for a few moments the deafened ear.
Earthquakes and environmental disasters: opportunities to exhibit the means of relief, rather than to rescue.
We prefer that lacks air and water rather than electricity.
Politics, management of bourgeois affairs.
Opinions on everything and the opposite of everything, so that every opinion is worth as much as the opposite.
The concept of progress has the greatest understanding and the least extension, like the concept of God.
They have reduced the theater to acting, jazz to farce.
Freedom of thought, even the most repugnant, as long as market freedom is not called into question.
Pythagoras accused by Heraclitus of taking too much care of knowledge.
Hesiod already complained about man’s ingratitude towards mother earth, even the Koran.
Art used to reconcile us with nature, now it’s a surrogate.
Once they marveled at those who chose a life against the current, now it is a dangerous example, to isolate and marginalize.
Public opinion is that of those who order the polls.
We accept every form of aberration, but not that which the god unleashes in the mad, so we tame it with drugs.
Even if the atomic bomb explodes, the program continues between one advertisement and another.
Not life experiences but news experiences.
The scientist Galileo still had a little humility in approaching the secrets of nature.
We shamelessly stripped mother earth, impudently gutted her.
The fate of the earth follows the trend of the stock exchange.
A stampede flee to where there is already a stampede.
If there is any doubt in a big artist, they dissolve it with a bigger prize.
As soon as you discover that he can write well, you don’t discover anything else.
We understand that we are not at the center of the universe, we still don’t understand that we are not even at the center of geological time.
They don’t slap them, they reject them.
The feast of man is now a crime against the feast of nature.
Pleasure without joy, relief of pain without comfort.
At this point also insects wait for the redeemer.
Mathematical language makes science appear deeper, so science uses it even when it is not necessary.
The night lamps prevent me from looking at the stars and Confucius tells me not to protest, but to light a lamp.
By now death concerns only who die.
The law serves to legalize bourgeois offenses, not to punish them.
They train them to speak without moving a finger.
The earth was tired and produced man.
The tree of knowledge is aged, it is hunting the basal shoots of scientific knowledge.
For the mother earth economy, a cerambycidis smarter than a man.
The wise man will learn the art of wrath.
Populated with dreams was the sleep of the kittens.
To fathom the psyche, Freud launches probes, Dostoevsky dives.
Meaning of a word was who said it.
Fabre didn’t need scientific instruments.
The name that migratory birds give to the stars.
A little common sense was enough for Christ not to end up on the cross, but he knew that common sense is a bourgeois virtue.
To not get his hands dirty with animal blood, he uses machines to spear, slit, slash, cut.
He was the most thoughtful being on earth, now the most carefree.
They lie and deny the same news so that the lie makes more news of the denial.
Massacres and assassinations, routine administration of the State.
They nostalgic for nature, but they don’t give up city life.
The slave did not enjoy human rights, but did not work in the factory.
Man may be able to colonize the solar system, but as soon as the sun rises, he will find himself disoriented by the crowing of a rooster.
The mantis sways with the leaves to the rhythm of the wind.
A world of only poplars or only horses, was this the purpose of multiplying and trampling the earth?
Not the petulant magpie, not the sentimental elephant, only the man seemed destined for the divinity.
We intubate the water preventing it from quenching the earth’s thirst.
There is more wisdom in the beetle that warms the elytra before taking flight or in the spider that collects the canvas at the first thunder, than in a bank official.
Exterminate endless populations.
After getting rid of nature, gods, myths and mysteries, man can do himself what he wants.
Incarnation of some latecomer god before leaving the earth, Frank Zappa.
In man’s hand the fate of every other living being.
It is easier to have mercy on a wounded little ant than on a burning anthill.
If the academics Galileo defended himself from were ridiculous, even more ridiculous are current scientists when they refuse to pronounce on issues that would cross the boundaries of their discipline.
New forms to say nothing, here is our art.
Pascal’s bet? Worth even in reverse.
Rilke doesn’t write, he whispers.
Each oral memory is over.
We live more a long time than an insect, which has nevertheless ancestors more ancient of ours.
What works does not live and what lives does not work.
Common sense is not more sensible.
Although we get knowledges from animal experiments, they are ugly knowledges.
The logos became flesh, finally news.
The reasoning is not always reasonable, it can justify any corbellery.
The night is no longer the rest of the day, it is his reproach.
Science has turned into language about technology.
Science ends up building the objects of its own knowledge.
Disdainfully was accepting the food the scops owl.
We measure the intelligence of animals with ours.
Atrophied every sensitivity, we perceive only what is gross.
No longer for a higher good but for a lower evil.
To get our life back we should start with a general dismantling.
But even a Neanderthalensis knew how to make scientific observations!
In the anthill food and white eggs keep on being carried while it is about to arrive the bulldozer.
We could talk to stones and insects.

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