To what extent can we push the boundaries of privacy when it concerns a public figure?

As it forces its way through, it overturns desks and sends file papers swirling through the air; the bear drools and smashes everything in sight. I can understand why people are wetting themselves. There is a smell of shit—of nature—at last. From the street, passersby catch glimpses of this huge, enraged animal through the windows. In a silent roar that looks like a loud yawn, the bear anticipates the long hibernation.

Once the embarrassment had been sidestepped, the emergency subsided. But shortly after the first intervention, another followed. This time the boy stood up and announced that he had written two poems, together with an account of the circumstances in which they had been composed.

Our age does not promise greatness, freedom, or expansion: only protection.

You know, my love, I wanted to apologize for last night... I didn't want to lock you in the closet, or muzzle you, but you know... you were making too much noise... there are neighbors, people on vacation who, as soon as they hear the slightest noise, become a nuisance... I'm really sorry...

What would a Napoleon or a Julius Caesar do today? Where would the great figures of the past—leaders, artists, and prophets—direct their ambitions if they had been born today? Would they perhaps become financiers, entrepreneurs, or influencers?

What remains is an ontological weariness: an exhaustion that comes not from doing, but from the immense effort of filtering a flood of data that overwhelms us.

La questione non è che c’è un “eteropessimismo” latente nella società; il punto è che la connessione emotiva non è semplice, soprattutto quando entrano in gioco pregiudizi culturali.

Ma allora come ne usciamo? Siamo davvero bloccati in un eteropessimismo che ci destina o a relazioni insoddisfacenti, o a una vita da single?

Battutina sul cazzo di Trump. Battutina sugli Epstein Files. Quanto è brutta la stand up quando diventa un rosario, un elenco liturgico di parole e temi al quale il comico oggi crede di non poter non fare riferimento.

It's as if it were a sort of unconscious, collective nostalgia for Dada.

That residue of semi-happiness remains as a small legacy, a fragile but powerful memory: we inhabited a present disconnected from everything else, an absolute time that responded to nothing but itself.

Humor is a powerful weapon against (and with) power. It helps us accept parts of ourselves and parts of the system we struggle to get along with, and the system is often used as a tool of power.

In a society where morality has become purely material, it has been easy to inculcate the idea of ​​production as a virtue.

Chi entra nella massoneria è perché possiede informazioni precluse alla massa. Lo stesso per il capello. I ragazzi di Roma nord non rivelano le proprie tecniche perché poi il capello perfetto sarebbe accessibile anche ai nomadi mafiosi di Roma sud.

...the characteristic of the novel that is being lost sight of—and which is also what defines it as such—is its fiction. Perhaps the novel, taken to its extreme consequences, that is, through a self-narrated individuality, is self-destructing?

What's this story about? Movie stars and paparazzi, strawberry shortcake, doors that struggle to close, and women in their forties with nasal problems. Nothing specific, really. But it's beautiful.

“No one understands a damn thing.” That’s the line you hear most often—over the past couple of years—among filmmakers, producers, and crews in Italian cinema.

There has been in this sense a precise, long-term strategy aimed at testing the reactions and possible response readiness of Western societies with respect to the violation of the international order and the rules of coexistence of liberal democracies.

Instead, in this Society of Entertainment, the only one in which I am allowed to believe, I have seen the birth of the figure of the "cultured victim"

We are and always will be evolving, whether you like it or not. Of this we can make a virtue or build a cage. We are mobile, provisional, adaptive identities.

Do me a favor, to save our European civilization. Learn to be rough again; but why don't you sufficiently demonstrate the baseness of imposed Americanism?

“Miss, tell me—when did the colonial era end?” That’s the question my second-to-last university exam ends with.

The publication of the Epstein files fits perfectly into the logic of post-truth as a "technology of power." Not because of what they reveal—or reveal only partially.

What if the problem were even deeper? What if we were facing the slow death of the Self, rather than the We? What if, that is, this identity crisis had something to do with ourselves?

Today, without taking the analysis above into account, it is impossible to understand either the politics of the Russian Federation or those of Europe.

An identity that if it wants to exist, if it wants to last, must not actually exist—it must migrate into something else, not deviate, in order not to go mad. The only way we would have to win would be to lose. But this, of course, is impossible.

How can someone compulsively buy, only to then set aside, throw away, or sell to restart their personal production cycle? Out of pure passion and simple personal inclination?

The constant overstimulation we are subjected to, the constant pursuit of perfection, the need to do things first and better than anyone else have destroyed our ability to generate true, lasting value.

We just need to break out of this existential torpor and take action, because no one will do it for us. The work to be done is primarily social; we must all realize that how we feel is not a one-size-fits-all situation.

For all these reasons, the thousands of dead left by Ag Ghali's group across the lands of Mali and West Africa are a continuation of a rite that seeks, in violence and extremism, traces of a divine that transcends God himself—and which can only be sought and experienced in the musical nights of the desert.

The most tremendous success of the contemporary global order has not been ruling the world, but persuading people that governing themselves is a bad idea. No sophisticated conspiracy was needed.

Let's face it, the myth of the self-made man is out of fashion. However, it remains the only valid reason in the West to feel fulfilled, or alternatively to be moved by a screen, even though ultimately it's all so selfish and despicable, fake and banal in its own way, but somehow so damned true.

Polarization is not a sign of democratic vitality; it is proof that consciousness has become fragmented. Today’s enemies are not those of yesterday. The agents responsible for the crisis are not the names that circulate in partisan discourse.

What we can say with certainty is that contemporary art, more than a muse of hyperstition, is a parody of the cosmic void and the human crisis. To save art, perhaps we need to resort to a gesture that isn't desperate, but rather lucid and radical, one that the Dadaists would probably have appreciated: that is, to stop making art, to stop art itself.

Ci si dimentica spesso che i gazawi vivono sotto perenne occupazione illegale dal 1967, con una grande fetta della popolazione residente all’interno dei campi profughi, dipendente economicamente dagli aiuti umanitari per vivere.

Now that you’re unsettled, please read on. The foundation of this thesis does not come from the Zionist world, which offers a vision in which they are the “true” residents of those lands, and therefore entitled to commit something as horrific as genocide. It comes, rather, from a historical-political consideration that, unfortunately, very few still have the courage to articulate.

Lo stile di Arlt si oppone alla norma piccolo-borghese dell’ipercorrezione; è uno stile fatto con gli scarti, i resti, sempre in ebollizione. Non è lingua da salotto, ma lingua della strada, sporca e indisciplinata: uno scrivere che non si vergogna dei suoi errori, perché gli errori sono il segno della vita che pulsa […] Il suo accesso alla cultura fu “criminale”; una letteratura interpretata come una rapina piuttosto che una carriera: un colpo di mano, una conquista disperat

We all live in our own bubbles, in a society divided into classes and stereotypes. Under the illusion, fostered by the internet, of being interconnected with one another, we are in reality isolated.

Here too, the response is not heroism—it is seriality. And this is precisely what Ubu-esque power fears most: the clown may reign, but it is not yet written that his reign must become our normality.

The issue does not lie in being “phallic” or physically possessing a phallus, but in its eminently dynamic nature—its capacity to adhere to and dis-adhere from psychological, cultural, and communal models which are never fixed but instead reflect a retroactive freedom: not a “power” preceding the act but a continuum of micro-performances that create the sensation of an origin which, in reality, never existed.

Let us repeat it once more, like a shamanic ritual: produce, consume, rot.

Tutto ciò porta a trarre l’unica soddisfazione da se stessi e dal crescere del proprio ego, in una forma di autoerotismo contemporaneo in cui nuovi ermafroditi inneggiano ad un’indipendenza radicale divinizzata, per cui più sei indipendente dalla comunità e “auto-utilitario”, più ti senti potente e gonfi il petto, più ti senti invincibile e alzi il mento, più ti senti Dio e istituisci un nuovo sistema di valori.

When we’ll learn to think like the shoreline, we will finally be able to build upon the sea.

Here I seek instead to mobilize Gómez-Cruz (2022)’s proposal of understanding the digital as vital because of its relation to the very shape of life.

From the 1950s onward, thanks to major technological investment and post–Korean War industrial modernization, Japan had rapidly become the world’s second-largest economy and the most profitable manufacturing power.

What emerges from this spectrum of perspectives is, in my view, some defining questions: who decides on European rearmament and what are the motives guiding these decisions?

The issue of rearmament is a complex one, without any single or clear-cut answer—as the previous essays have already shown. Faced with such complexity, the first, almost healthy instinct is to ask questions, to believe that by refining and finally asking the right question, the right answer might begin to take shape.

The time has come to react. The time has come to break with the politics of the ruling classes, with their constant attempts to divide the oppressed and trigger wars among the poor.

In recent months, social media and news outlets around the world have been bombarding us with reports and political statements predicting the end of the world—ever since the warmongering President von der Leyen announced the need for a sinister plan to boost military spending among EU member states.