| Puzz in Mid-1970s Italy | | Print | |
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| Thursday, 17 July 2008 16:14 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
PUZZ An afterword
More to the point perhaps, Puzz slowly noted how a largish section of the late 1960s insurgents were becoming part of capital's re-structuring, it's new 'enlightened' face as it were. They grimly observed via a related mag called "Gatti Savaggi" (Wildcat) that ex-students consciously becoming factory workers invariably ended up in a petty power position in the trade unions seeking greater glories as worker bureaucrats. Puzz did not refer to history in the same way as the almost comic academicism of Mao Dada later in 1977 as their own immediate observations were more important than historical pedigree and in all of Puzz's magazines there's only one reproduction of Dadaist art, a George Grosz painting depicting the 'socialist' butcher Noske of the Freikorps in the days of the failed German revolution of 1918-21. Puzz's greater empirical awareness though had its downsides laying itself wide open to the younger generation of recuperation with those who exchanged negation for style changes. When Puzz proclaimed: "There's something happening and you don't know what it is do you Signor Dylan" little could they have realised such comment would become the acceptable stock-in-trade of the new wave super stars of punk heading for their first million bucks. Unfortunately Puzz had some illusions about music (see some of the following translations) even though well noting how youth was becoming "90 years old".
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To love it's necessary to have a heart. This is a society without a heart. Therefore it's without love. Aahhh...Love. Flower. Love. Pain. Heart. Zoom. The heart beats as it should. Feet walk around as they should. The brain is thinking as it should. Hands are active as they should be. Sexual organs function as they should. All the workers of the body functioning as they should. Ah love! The feet no longer think. The heart doesn't stroll about. The brain doesn't hear the senses. Hands don't function. Sexual organs are passively active..Ah....the absence of love...... "Only transplanting a democratic heart will avoid the risk of rejection. Only this heart can pump neo-Christian blood into the desiccated family structure. I've opened up a PCI cell in the moribund cell of the family." "My big lips are more luscious if you love. Love is modeled on the reigning fashions and even more so if you're with the alternative demo- contesting dominant fashion...it's so fashionable...you cut such a fine figure...and my mechanical vagina quickens only to ideology...but especially to the counter-ideology of the new values of 90 year old youth." "I'm a bourgeois of the old school. The capitalism that my class perfected can do without me. Decomposition infects me and I haven't succeeded in concealing it under the face cream of democratic capitalism....I'm only a reactionary, you're more cunning.""My distributing rod doesn't have any more sperm left for you. It's the crises. There's no more oil left in the recesses of my body".
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Camera one! Take one! The tram is a desert...That oasis is a mirage....That mirage are police..... "Do you hear: untie the scarf from around my feet or I fire"..."No Signor, I won't give in and keep your hands up....."Tickets! We'll kill what you haven't...." "Shit! Two hours every day in this cesspit of the 33 bus. And always in the rush hours"....."Signori, I'm only the tram driver. You mustn't talk to me or shoot me ---in the back. Now throw that body out". "Hang-on Giorgio, don't execute that student now, a 500 has run out of petrol. Let's throw some molotovs and burn it to bits. It's getting late and you know well enough we must be back home for supper. We have to be up at 7 to be at the factory for 8...look out that old guy is throwing a knife!!....And you, you underneath, don't move your head or you'll make me fall off". "Now, that's enough. You mustn't read the papers and laugh....Be sad like everyone else. Get this new calibre bullet". ...A STREET CAR NAMED DESERT.....A WAR CALLED A BANALITY.......... |

| "Once upon a time we believed that long-haired youths dressed up in blue jeans would bring a breath of fresh air into the desolation of our daily lives""Today we know once again it was a matter of pouring old wines into new bottles""Today we're savouring a new restoration under the form of being progressive and we've learnt at great cost that the most obscene product of fascism is anti-fascism" . |

| "There's an atmosphere of retreat in the air. No one feels any longer up front respondingto what they want from life""Now comrades from yesterday bother themselves withdistributing programmes and electoral promises like false prophets, like vampires, thirstyfor proletarian blood" "They've reduced the streets into concentration camps for our solitude. "There's an atmosphere of retreat in the air. In shop windows they sell us militancy guaranteed with the seal of ideology. |

| Enough of red-tinted togas. Let's call a spade a spade. They're our new bosses, our new warders""Reality has in fact shown that man before setting fire to himself with his exploding plastic myths and then falling in with the first strolling firemen" --"Is rather, our desires seeking themselves out piteously on the crowded platforms, in the museums, in the supermarkets and in the Lost and Found Office....but we continue to run from ourselves" |
VIOLENCE

| A young and poor Southern Italian guy leaves his family in the south of Italy forthe northern cities in 1968.The goodbyes are tearful...... |

| Finding accommodation is even more difficult... Notices abound saying: "NO SOUTHERNERS HERE". He is told: "We don't rent out accommodation to southerners"..."Sorry but we've had some bad experiences"....." "You shits", he thinks. Eventually he makes his way to a bar and a 'kindly' Uncle Pumpkin fixes him up, addressing him in Neopolitan/Sicilian slang. The guy however is a shark... Arriving at his new lodgings the naive southerner is told by a fellow resident that he's easily duped and if he doesn't wake up, he's really going to get turned over. He is advised to get a letter from a Priest.......... He walks around the streets in search of a Priest, bombarded on all sides by thighs, bums, tits and platform shoes shouting: "BUY, BUY". A Priest welcomes him into a church saying unctuously; "Let's see what Holy Mother church can do for you". The Priest writes him a letter of commendation and, in gratitude, the Southerner offers him money.-----"What are you doing, what are you doing?" says the Priest, "I don't want your money, I want Christian love! So take your clothes off"... "You don't want to, well OK but when you are dying of hunger don't bother to come back here". The Priest fucks him, breathing, "How lovely, how lovely, Holy Mother of God, how lovely". The southerner thinks, "What a shit I am". The Priest departs telling him, "Please come back whenever you want"...... |

| He walks around the streets in search of a Priest, bombarded on all sides by thighs, bums, tits and platform shoes shouting: "BUY, BUY". A Priest welcomes him into a church saying unctuously; "Let's see what Holy Mother church can do for you". The Priest writes him a letter of commendation and, in gratitude, the Southerner offers him money.-----"What are you doing, what are you doing?" says the Priest, "I don't want your money, I want Christian love! So take your clothes off"... "You don't want to, well OK but when you are dying of hunger don't bother to come back here". The Priest fucks him, breathing, "How lovely, how lovely, Holy Mother of God, how lovely". The southerner thinks, "What a shit I am". The Priest departs telling him, "Please come back whenever you want"...... |

| Going to a factory he shows the Priest's letter and is given a job on the assembly line.....the constant repetition.....time and motion men... the company foremen shouting "PRODUCE MORE, PRODUCE MORE, PRODUCE MORE".....Suddenly: "STRIKE". Instantly, without a moment’s thought, the Southerner grabs a gigantic hammer and smashes a half completed car....... |

| For his activities during the strike, he's laid off and charged with criminal damage. His 'workmates' let him go down the road, telling him he's too up front. If they put him in prison it'll be impossible afterwards to find work. In the slammer, a fellow prisoner tells him that the only thing prisoners can do is take back the money from banks forcibly later when you get out because you won't get any pay in jail for work done. To the accompaniment of a politician broadcasting warnings on TV that the wave of strikes is endangering democracy, the newly arrived prisoner hangs himself in his cell..... |
(For further articles on Italy see the following)
See Further:Italy in 1977