gregorio racadio writes...
here is a little something about me:
I was born and raised in California where I studied Cinema and
Italian Literature at San Francisco State University. I ended
up finishing out my degree in Italian Literature in Italy, where
I studied for two years: one year in Florence
and the second year at the University of Pavia. I made three 16mm shorts: La Pena, L'attaco
di Panico and Mental Voyage Through Istanbul.
I moved to New York four years ago and live in Bushwick, Brooklyn.
I work primarily in art direction for print ads and commercials
and DJ in various clubs throughout New York City.
Writing and literature (emphasis on poetry) had always played an important role
in my life. I grew up feasting on Yeats, Baudelaire, "the dandies",
Italo Calvino, Pasolini, Cummings, just to name a few. Yet, it was't until I
happened upon Mr.
Arthur Rimbaud that poetry started to make complete sense. At an early age I
found
Rimbaud, the torrid and terrible youth that just by the mention of him starts
fires and he inspired me to write. I used my hatred, my love, my laziness, and
my fervor to burn down the fears around me.
Prose and poetry has always been present in my life... writing in little black
composition books, on packs of cigarettes, on the passing Inter trains of Milan,
behind the slip cover of library books, and anywhere else that I deemed inappropriate... I
despise the notion of a writer that contemplates his position in the comfort
of a café... such luxuries bring forth such bourgeois and frivolous
literature... paint it on the back of a car, or shove inside a jacket pocket
at the gap... if you feel your voice should be heard, scream it... don't
hide your scribble on a dusty shelf, such modesty should be left to the New York
Times.
