Fabrizio Ulivieri - TrendSetter

  Io spero di dicer di lei quello che mai non fue detto d'alcuna The "Vita Nova" by Dante Alighieri is definitely an outdated book for the times we live in. Outdated mainly for one reason: it speaks of Amore, Love, (with capital letter). An idealization and interiorization of Love in order to transcend the factual and intrinsic love for a woman (Beatrice) and become the Motor itself of Dante's poetry. A unique book in its structure: the story of Dante’s love for Beatrice until Beatrice’s death (just perceived in a dreamlike vision). The painful history of Dante's dolor for this unhappy love that in the end becomes the Spirit itself of Dante's poetry. Prose sonnets and canzoni are mixed so as to tell us about a world that unfortunately is centuries away from our raw modernity: a world of Beauty and Love . A book that should be read by those who are in the process of a trip to Florence. A book to be read before going to that city, a book that will enable peopl...

If I want to be honest with myself first of all and then with all people that allegedly can be interested in what I say, I never felt too much as being Italian. When I was young I was many times mistaken for French, Russian, German...rarely people thought I was Italian. And when I said I was Italian they were surprised. I have never shared qualities that could be connotated as Italian, just because I didn't feel it or a little. Since I was a lad I had an aversion to food, for loud family reunions, which I tried to avoid with every means, even though now I remember them with nostalgia, above all I miss the familiar faces of many relatives who have disappeared forever from my sight. I never wished to be like my father. My father was a politician:  I was too shy to be speaking in front of a large auditorium. I remember that many times, between my 30s and 40s, I jokingly said that I was the last of the Etruscans, because people were still telling me that I didn't look like an Itali...

  In my previous post ( HERE ), I was talking about global asymmetrical warfare. Citizens all over the world react to the impositions of governments remotely controlled by external powers that have the economic capacity to influence the entire planet. Developments and outcomes are difficult to predict, but from the reactions of governments, it is clear that something must be reconsidered in their (i.e. of the global financial powers) impositions, that something must be fixed, adapted, because something has evidently not reacted as they expected. And this is probably what I call global asymmetric warfare. Those powers declared a health, media and consequently global political and police war to humanity, and the citizens, the sound part of the citizens not the hypnotized part suffering the psychosis caused by the mass formation psy-op, responded all over the world with an asymmetrical resistance (the best examples of this asymmetrical warfare are seen in Canada). Unfortunately, it sh...

A diebus autem Ioannis Baptistae usque nunc regnum caelorum vim patitur, et violenti rapiunt illud (Matteo 11,12) I am unsure how to call it, but there is in this world called Italy a heart which is not a heart, but a spineless heart, a heart which is not used to suffer and deprive itself to gain vigour and strength but it is in any and single situation oriented to continuously please itself. A heart that is incapable to express bravery and heroism because is grounded on a natural split between feeble and flaccid vigour. Years ago I supported a theory: what you eat decides what you are. Italians are autoreferenziali , self-referential, because they eat food whose quality is uncomparable, without confrontation. That drew them to be self-referential, arrogant, selfish, materialistic. They made a religion of the quality, of their arrogance. They lost themselves in this autoreferenzialità , they became shortsighted. They started living just for their selfish ego. They went completely lost...

Le persone chiedono la libertà di parola per compensare la libertà di pensiero che raramente usano. (Søren Kierkegaard) The stupidity of these folk, the Italians, consists in not having an underground life. I am sure a few of them has read Dostoevsky, a lot of them, even, has never read a book. They completely ignore the meaning of it, just are surface. Dull people. Dazzling sometimes but dull in the end. I have no idea about the reasons that led me to write down these notes except that I am fed up. Disgusted by their irresponsible way of living. They are children and less than children. They are so keen to obey. They need to obey, it is in their treacherous preposterous and servile nature to obey. I am not Italian, even though I was born in Italy. For many years, for long long years, I said I was Etruscan. But now I am confused I am tired I became harsh, hurting Those days which I was living in Italy, when I used to say that I was Etruscan, I was in their midst, I was sick as they a...

I many times denied this. But it came up everytime. It came up under trace. Impossible to detect but it was real and working. I tried to deny, but everytime I met a piece of new evidence, that I wanted to deny and I denied in the end, it surfaced again a few days later from another region.  We are squeezed. We are used, crushed, emptied and thrown away. That is the truth. There was a guy. A strange guy who came from the UK, was Belgian and lived in Vilnius undercover I suppose. He lived in an area where I was told there was the centre of many secret services. Honestly, I don' t remember how I met him. How we became friends. "Friends" is a big word. Maybe, I should say, acquaintances. We used to meet and talk in Vokiečių gatvė, at Sugamour. A bit pretentious bar, slightly kitsch, but if I rethink now of those days I can say that was a perfect place. It was the right bar at the right moment. The right atmosphere for the right situation. We lived in a bogus situation, a bogu...

It is a big lie. You don't need to be too smart to sense it. Turn off the TV, stop reading the mainstream newspapers, dig a little bit under the surface and inevitably/subsequentially you start smelling the smoke of the smoking gun. Too many things appear to be different from the way you are told they are. Told you every moment of your day. Masks? They won't protect you https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLPRBCNIkCY Covid19? It probably never existed https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=3&v=Xr8Dy5mnYx8&feature=emb_logo They treat you in the right way in hospitals? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EWQPgF6-UQ&feature=emb_logo Overcrowded hospitals in Italy? 1) https://www.facebook.com/anacharsis1983/videos/10216923983074065/ 2) https://www.facebook.com/anacharsis1983/videos/10216971746228114/ Lockdown for everyone? 1)  https://twitter.com/i/status/1247457781919223808 2)  https://twitter.com/i/status/1246460153207103495 There is any connection wit...

It is always the same story, when there is a country to be hit in Europe, Italy is the first. The answers can be many, many the narratives, but I believe that Italy is an easy target, since Italians are prone to accept everything; there are no rebellions, no riots, no insurgences but only passive acceptance in this land. Italy historically has been a mere geographical expression unable to cope with the strength of far more virile peoples, if not by using deception, betrayal, turnaround, and the most squalid machiavellism. Italy has never been a real State since the fall of Roman Empire. Gli italiani non hanno palle * this is the hard truth. Those who had le palle and sense of honour have been killed and exterminated during the First and Second World War, and the survivors were brainwashed through the occupation of the key posts in the Italian state structures by a silent army of leftist organic intellectuals, which in name of a globalist politically correct distopia have comp...

At many things we feel awe but at nothing more than at man  (Antigone – Sophocles)  It is usually said you must never start a book like this: One morning I woke up, I was tired, I was discontented of my life, I was sad and depressed... But one morning I woke up, I was tired, I was discontented of my life, I was sad and depressed... And I knew why. I was stuck in a nowhere zone, buried by the impossibility to find the right story to write. I was writing two books at that time. One was about a young idealist who took part in the Italian Risorgimento. I got my inspiration from Ippolito Nievo and his last day of life. I wanted this story hinged on his last trip from Palermo to Napoli. Everything had to happen on board of the steamer Ercole, before the shipwreck. I wanted to use the techniques of flashback and foreshadowing to recollect all the story of Nievo, from the day he was disembarked from one vessel in the port of Marsala with a thousand of other red...

The famous sentence associated with Massimo D’Azeglio “We have made Italy; now we must make Italians”, leaves no hope of achieving its goal, given the current situation; because since then nothing has changed. Since everything is energy, interaction of magnetic vibrational fields we should change the magnetism in order to change the nature of the energy field that resides in the “Italianity”. If we could change the energy field of this “Italianity” we could change the nature of mental, emotional, spiritual and physical life, all of which are energy in different forms. In the current state of things I see no other possibility to change such a flock (Italian people) Photo via  https://teseo.altervista.org

Italians have the belly as the centre of their world, inside. Outside, they have the sun. They often say – non c’è rimasto altro (there is nothing else left). And with this, they think of the fact that their history deprived them of even the hope to change. What is left, then? Food and sun. They have bottomless bellies. They eat a lot (and shit a lot, probably) because they constantly need to fill their intestine to the brim. They are empty. Empty of hope and short of ideas. Mes, italai, nuolat kalbame apie tai, Ką valgėme vakar, Ką valgome dabar, Ką valgysime rytoj[1] Said a famous Italian restaurateur who managed two Italian restaurants in Vilnius. In fact, in Italy, restaurants are always full of people. Bar and supermarkets are hyper-crowed. Conversation themes are soccer and food. Two gnostic epiphenomena of a new kind of Religion. All in all, Catholicism is a religion completely imbued of gnosis and globalism (above all now with the current Pope), it is therefore...

"Amore, šaltibarščiai e pomodori rossi" italian edition is sold at Litterula (Vilnius and Kaunas). The sales are going well. People seem to love it.

8th September 1943 is the Italian singularity. The climax point in which all the ills of Italy's universe from Unification up to that day, 8th September 1943, implode and then a new universe begins again because the old forms (ills) of the unitary state are replaced by two simple structures: the loss of honour and the loss of sovereignty. The 8 September 1943 both of them are zeroed out and remained as such until the present days. Both of them were then loaded with other plus-structures that during the existence of the Italian Republic did not modify the two starting structures (the zeroed-out loss of honour and loss of sovereignty). This is the analytical sense of the novel "The day when Italy died". Through a binary code1-0 (Sabatina and Silvano from 1943 to 2018) and 0-1 (Sabatina and Silvano from 2018 to 1943) the history of Italy is unraveled between public and private .

"I do not represent anything. I am the representation. But everything is mixed. Life, characters ... then is everything false? No! It's all true. Especially the characters. Acting for me is to live more. To add. Idealize, transfigure. Add emotion to emotions, passion to passions. Where the performance ends, my reality ends "(Monica Vitti). I couldn’t better express, what does it mean to me writin g , in a better way than using Monica Vitti’s words, when she expressed in the above stated propositions what did it meant for her to act . Writing, for me as well, is living more. It is first of all, above all and essentially, "to live more" in the very moment I write. I could not divert myself from Monica Vitti’s definition. Honestly, I did not appreciate and I even truly underestimated the culture of the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies in Italy, I had no idea how pregnant were those years. Perhaps, because I now live far from Italy, I began to look at I...

Silvano kept a safe distance from the partisans, who wandered between woods and gullies around Montaione, San Gimignano and Volterra. He did not understand their reasons, their way of thinking. He felt instinctively that their smell was not his own smell. Their skin had different reasons than his. And those strange, incongruous noms de guerre, detached from any human logic: Sandokan, Ursus, Falco, Caserta, Camoscino, Intrepido, Lampo, Mitra, Tigre, Leone, Condor, Cobra, Orso, Bufalo, il Vendicatore, Potente, Birba, Bistecca, Chicchirichì, Cognach, Emorroidi, Fastidi, Fifa...maybe they had a logic, it had to be a logic in those names, it was undeniable, but still they formed a language that Silvano had difficulty to learn. He did not completely avoid them. In the woods of Jetta, Casa al Rosso and Cetine, he had often met them, had shared their food, smoked their cigarettes, talked to them but had always felt an unbridgeable distance between his own world and their distant w...

Ian Fleming Manipulation. Media manipulation currently shapes everything you read. Great powers (finance, intelligence, politics, States ...) influence economy and social structure of states beyond any doubt. Italy is probably the best example. From the Unification until today Italy is a constant experiment of conflict and manipulation of foreign states (England, USA, Germany, France ...) and every time this land tried his own way the politician who tried it was taken down (Mattei, Moro, Craxi). Given the disappointing literary panorama, marked by a kind of literature devoid of originality (especially of contents), which I define literature-meme, i.e. able only to repeat without innovating, suitable to produce frames without contents *. Therefore if I consider the premises I started from from I naturally ask myself how those who are capable to influence the media are also interested in controlling the editorial world (an authentic inaccessible bunker, which admits and p...

I always thought that too much freedom, democratic freedom understood like a form of exasperated individualism (Italian style), is detrimental to creativity. Creativity, the real one, that is linked to the power of internal messages and based on the support of strong values (ideologies, heroism, honour, courage ...). The literary creativeness we are witnessing today is a mere reproduction without any minimal content. Framed Memes . I can not find a better definition. In the words of Curzio Malaparte, La pelle, I find confirmation of how too much freedom can be prejudicial to the individual (and his creativity). Too much freedom is similar to a plague, as Malaparte describes it, in terms of  liberation of Naples by the American force s. "If an Allied soldier leaned out of his jeep and smiled at a woman and then stroked her face in a fleeting and slight way she, preserved dignified and pure up to that moment, would become a prostitute. If a child put a candy to his mouth...

Of those days spent in the farmhouse before leaving to Verona and trying to take the train to Florence Silvano remembered one morning. The sun was already high, and it was hot even though it was September. The sky appeared full of bristly and white cirrus like goat's milk. Twenty girls on bikes had gathered in the Cascina. They wore light dresses that assumed dark shadows under the sun filtered by the cirrus clouds. In the distance, in front of them, stood the a far countryside and a linear white road that stood out as if it was carved against the plain. Silvano stood under the stable's shed and looked at them like one usually would observe a painting. That image of fresh youth, of flesh exposed to the sun, provoked him. Even now the memory of that day made him feel such a strong emotion that even at the age of ninety it could become excruciating. It was the same emotion but a deaf pleasure of his flesh, now. The prostate had been tormenting him for years and only go...

"Odyssey? It is a myth about the nostalgia of returning home, a longing to return home suffered during the long years of "naja" by Italian soldiers taken to fight away from their families, by their worries about how they will return home after the war, by the fear that assaulted them in their dreams and overcome them with the thought of never being able to return, because of strange obstacles that arise on their journey. It is the story of September 8, the Odyssey, the story of many others September 8: the pain and the dread to go home on makeshift vehicles, along countries full of enemies. " (Italo Calvino) - Silvano ... Silvano ... - hissed the comrade from above, to warn him of the gunshots. From below Silvano beckoned him that he had understood. Gunshots were heard in the distance. On the other side of the barracks, in front of the dormitories there was a colonel with a gun in his hand and two soldiers dead at his feet, to whom he had fired becau...