diary pages (of a singer on the road) - Section 1 
From my room for rent in Fort Greene (Brooklyn), the beginning of my third month in New York City, the whirlwind of feelings and I'm enriching experiences, gained from an idea with her friend Vanessa Castronovo ... here are the first pages of a journal that aims to be a random point as life itself. some time now I have the good fortune to travel extensively, so quench my wandering soul and working with my inclinations. For what I have proposed Vanessa in a diary in installments, to be expanded as I will present an opportunity for a new journey. Meanwhile starts from here, from the Big Apple, and it seems a good start. I've always loved keeping a journal, although the consistency is not my forte. I never wrote, however, whether publicly with joy for what I am embarking on this new experience, a journey within a journey into the great journey that is life.
Chapter 1 - New York City, Thursday, January 6, 2011
I light up a cigarette, go! Which is very "writer."
The sky outside the window, took the colors of the sunset beautiful American colors I have seen only here. Since landing at JFK, November 6, 2010, I wondered how is it that the sky here is clear and phosphorescent colors in stripes, orange and pink. Even the clouds acquire the same tones. The day started very bright, the sky was veiled by a filter mat. Now you are done, crayon, and it seems to dawn.
I'm listening to " Diary by Ralph Towner, it seemed perfect for the occasion.
are in New York City two months exactly and what still amazes me most is the feeling of "home" I felt from day one and still with me, now reinforced and stable, despite the many differences in this part of the world and the necessary moments of loss is so difficult that a city requires.
is a beautiful place that forces you to measure up yourself every single day, a daily struggle as a tender love affair, which finds rest only after taking fire and dug deep ruts in the street. I do not know why, but walking the streets of Manhattan has always calmed me, even in the darkest days, filling the chest with an unexpected sense of belonging and stability. I could not imagine my feeling everything, busy roads, sidewalks teeming with people-train sure-footed and bewildered and delighted tourists stop at intersections, buildings and fire escapes, the skyscrapers lit up like in the postcards. I lift up my eyes as I walk often, to gaze at the chaotic and many geometric shapes and colors, but looks are fleeting impressions with which I steal now I keep in memory. I have not heard even once a tourist, and this amazes me and makes me proud for some reason I still do not know.
I came here to sing, which makes this something absolutely magical. I got convinced to stay for only three weeks. Everything was set: the four concerts (Little Italy, Long Island, Westchester and Downtown Manhattan), the meeting by John T La Barbera, an Italian-American guitarist who accompanied me was during performances, tests in New Jersey, the number of houses where I stayed. I met John for the first time at Washington Park, we immediately started to play well, on a bench, people approached curious, someone sat down in front of us and shook my hand wishing me good luck, to 17: 30 had already dropped to the dark and a man who had listened long improvised a rap dedicated to me ... "Welcome to New York, baby!"
I spent five days in the Queens home of a lady Palermo who has lived here for almost forty years, Mrs. Giampino, and acted as a grandmother, I have slept for three nights on an air mattress in a beautiful apartment in Midtown with my friend and guardian angel Olivia, I spent a week in the Bronx and then I went to Boston, where I visited Berklee College of Music and celebrated Thanksgiving with the family of Olivia. Even before leaving for Boston had taken a decision: I would have stayed longer, I would not go away. I knew a guy who had invited me to sing some songs in his electronic music group that was to perform in December around the city. It was an opportunity I was waiting, albeit unconsciously, and it was so fresh that I sent my return ticket, set for Nov. 28, and I've got a new one for February 1. The fact that the concert in December are then sauteed in mass is a secondary aspect of the story, then the damage was done and my life really began in New York! And so, here I am!
The concerts of November have been phenomenal for the most part by the warm welcome of the audience. I imagined that in America to bring the traditional repertoire Sicilian was a good experience, but never imagined such a reaction of affection and esteem, as if I came to them with her hands laden with gold. It was a great human and professional education that has ignited in me a deep sense of pride that is difficult I experienced in Italy, except in certain specific occasions and magical. I do not want to say that here in the States is all roses, or that it is easy to make music for a living ... Indeed! You often do not pay local, competition is high and the city of New York has a habit of breaking your back! But despite what the musician is accepted as a person of importance, as a messenger of the divine offerings to the human, the divine feeling, emotion and learning. The same does not happen in Italy, where very often the job of musician is not even recognized as such ...
Laura Campisi
photo Claudia Ragusa
concerts where the audience gets to sing the songs of the artist I bet you'll have seen many. I bet that you too, more often than not, you just sit there singing word for word the text of your favorite song (lucky you, I could never remember a full!). 
