Experiment: go to the 1920s, take a tram, say out loud:«We spent the night together!». Watch the reaction.
Go back to present day, on a bus, shout:«Yes, we had wild sex, with handcuffs». No reaction, except the two nuns.
That’s it, isn’t it? If we speak scandal at the very best we give a fat reverend a stroke, it’s a nice manslaughter, but ordinary people don’t care.
What if I replace blood with vodka and complain like young Werther about “the livid phantom of virginity”?
Total silence, the passed-out DJ mixing with his face.
What scandalises whom? Do we have to bother the cogito to know? Nah, I’ll just pass the hot potato to the co-author and scrooge-it.

Well. Nice topic. Really prickly. And with that bi-syllabic name it’s got, one can’t take it seriously.
It’s tough stuff, though. But I’m good at serious topics:
«You know, my dad had his skull open, I mean, not like he woke up one day like that, it was her, mum, she entered from behind and ZAC! she hit right. A pool of blood, you have no idea.»
How censurable am I after something like this? Is this what you call taboo? Or scandal? I don’t know.
I feel like writing Taboo in different colours, like the game, something my teacher would destroy me for. Oh, this one too.
«You know, teacher, every night I have erotic dreams about you, really hardcore, stuff that I’d rather be locked up in a public toilet with a Thai transsexual and a Jehovah Witness than miss your class.»
Is it taboo enough now? I mean, sex is a win-win, it’s almost too easy.
What if one morning they cut the water off, the bidet, the WC and all other wonders of sanitationary art go to hell. Well, I say, what’s wrong with primitivism?
But this is common stuff, I’ll get odd, who says that I wrote what you’re reading? All genuine plagiarised stuff! So far spirit of emulation makes, let us say, the less gifted do well.
«And now? What is she writing?»
What, you don’t like it? No? Well, you don’t understand anything anyway.
«It’s just a post-alcoholic delusion…»
It isn’t, it’s just a delusion.
Let’s put it this way, I’ll end on a high note, since ending with a quote is always cheap “our head is round so thoughts can change direction” Francis Picabia.

Article for Tassocrazia, never published. Written with Flavia.

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