né il giorno né l'ora Filippo Sorcinelli 2023

Shunryu Suzuki writes in the wonderful book "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" a sentence that ultimately also applies to né il giorno né l'ora:

“Soon we will die.”

The Zen monk utters this sentence quite calmly and as a fundamental statement,
while the Catholic Christian - and I suspect Filippo Sorcinelli is fundamentally SOCIALIZED as ROMAN Catholic as an Italian - tends to feel quite differently:

On one hand, there is an archaic (pagan) fear of death.
The primal fear, the fear of annihilation, the fear of the self-referential, autopoietic system before the unimaginable:
one's own non-existence.

At the core, apocalyptic religious communities have usually devised a narrative that is meant to bring hope:
“When you die, it's not over.
If everything goes to hell, we are on the safe side because we followed the RIGHT rules, and then it will get really great!”

But there is also a Catholic fear:
The fear that there won't be enough time left to confess.
Because, when the apocalypse comes, unfortunately, no one knows.
And it even says so in the Bible:
Matthew 24

“36. But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
37. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.
38. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark;
39. and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away - that is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.”

Not the day and not the hour
né il giorno né l'ora

What I am actually smelling here as a rather pleasant citrus summer freshie is, in reality, the wave of the new flood.

An Aquat for Judgment Day, haha, how wonderful.

And yet I do not break out in a cold sweat,
because all the flowers, citrus fruits, and woods are already on their way to the beach, to the party, to eat, to drink, to marry and let marry,
and I hear them singing
“vamos a la playa, o‘ o‘o o‘oh!”,
and no one has ever read or translated the lyrics by Righeira,
let alone realized that they are Italians.
And in a crowd of beautiful, young people, I am swept along to the beach, to the party, where the torches are blazing and the moon reflects in the spray of the dark sea.
And I gladly sway along,
YOLO!
and Maynard James Keenan is there, and we talk about L.A. in the 90s and the lyrics of Ænema,
WOOP WOOP!
and there is Filippo up front, of course, and I ask him how he means it with the fear,
and he stops for a moment, smiles calmly, and says, more softly than loudly:

“Soon we will die.”