Kintsukuroi (Your Love Is My Gold)

Some men scream into the void. Giuseppe eats dessert in it.

Meet Giuseppe: a 50-something failed live streamer, former anti-woke warrior, part-time recliner philosopher, and full-time walking midlife crisis. His opinions are outdated, his equipment is broken, and his wife hasn't smiled at him since Obama took office.

He lives in a crumbling suburban tomb with two Huskies, both clinically depressed, and a third that escaped through the crawlspace and has been living a better life ever since. The TV only plays static now. The coffee tastes like regret. The fridge contains nothing but expired yogurt and a single cannoli, lovingly preserved like a shrine to the last time he felt alive.

Giuseppe doesn’t cry anymore. He just chews slowly and stares into the void.

His wife communicates only in shrugs and audible sighs.
His livestream audience? 11 racists and a guy named “BigDennis69” who just won’t leave.
His podcast? Canceled by his own dog.

Then, one night, while rage-Googling "emotional damage Japan gold glue fix thing," Giuseppe finds Kintsukuroi — the art of mending broken pottery with gold. Something clicks. Something breaks harder. He sees himself in those cracks. Not just metaphorically. Literally — there’s a shard of mirror in his cannoli and he bites down without flinching.

Awakened by existential dread and a mild concussion, Giuseppe picks up his old guitar (which smells like damp dog and marinara) and channels his spiraling grief into an unlikely masterpiece:
“Kintsukuroi, Your Love Is My Gold” — a doom metal elegy for a man who lost everything but can still taste powdered sugar.

It’s angry.
It’s vulnerable.
It’s the sound of a marriage rotting in real-time.

And somehow… it goes viral.

His TikTok clip (set to a slow zoom of him weeping into a half-eaten cannoli) gets 80,000 views.
Teenagers call him the “Doom Dad of Sadness.”
One reviewer calls the album “a powerful exploration of post-love masculinity and bakery-based existentialism.”

But none of it fills the void.
Except the cannoli.

Always the cannoli.