last night i went to bed a little early and a little down about the reality of facing the "process" of continuing on. so i decided to listen the last known castrati to have lived and to have recorded his music: Alessandro Moreschi (1858--1922). i have recently become fascinated with castrati singers and their music. as i expected, the music was undeniably haunting. i have yet to discover how or what i feel about it. Moreschi was the only castrato ever to make solo recordings! and, as i am new to the genre, i can't tell you if it was as good as it should be, as up to par with the renowned castrati performances of the Baroque era, or anything technical yet. But it definitely did something to me. and lying there i couldn't help thinking: "this poor soul had his genitals cut off to make the most beautiful music..." and so on and the like. what's more, he was not castrated until somewhere around 1865! those fucking Italians, man. so passionate about the important things in life---food, music, romance, art, nature.... they really fucking go for it.... i highly suggest downloading one of his songs (God forbid we should by albums anymore).