Big And Tall Jockstraps

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Since god or whatever you call it fails ... you are killing that girl
Eluana put to death.
this blog is closed for mourning (pending ...)

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epitaffio del controsoffitto stanco


's time to ceilings. All that crowd trying to figure out how they work. How to build. Which way they look. Them, even if it were a sin, do not hold too many pressures, and collapse. But so, without telling anyone. Or maybe you. But in an incomprehensible language. Just a puff of air combined together, as alchemy first collapsed to form the whole.
Just the cold wind of uncertain times. Being the last row in the school years would like to be respected. Or at least groped to hide. From the strange atmospheric phenomena known as queries. Or the stupidity of life in general that not even realize that you are left in, and breathing can not do more '...
Snorting is useless. Dying at school is an accident at work. Probably yes. Lock the Torino Film Festival is to turn it into a sequence plan dumb. Better than nothing. scene change.

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Epitaffio di come funziona veramente


More 'than anything else I try to understand how a thumb. In particular, a green one. Recognize it, to me, is quite difficult, considering my proverbial propensity to blindness. Or something like this. The fact is that
I was given two basil plants, I can not figure out which way you look. How things work. This is the epitaph of my meager ability to understand the environmental factors, and to use them, at best, in my favor.
But no.
the churches react equally unhealthy and contrary to my efforts.
I am reminded of the Paturnie Moretti in White, when asked at his battered plants, what do you want more 'water, more' sun, speak!
My plants are unvoiced. On the other hand do not have confidence with the seasons and the windows from which you can see the seasons.
yesterday during the storm of the century that has plagued Rome were all flourishing. Go figure ... tonight we are placed su Foxnews a seguire gli esiti delle elezioni americane. Accadono strane cose...

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Epitaffio dei vecchietti con tagliaunghie


Se c'è una cosa che non sopporto è vedere sparire le persone da un momento all'altro. il pomeriggio della domenica aveva senso anche per merito dei vecchietti davanti casa.
due che si organizzavano il tempo libero ed eterno davanti a loro come se non ci fosse niente altro da fare.
lei aveva un tagliaunghie. lui la aspettava al sole.
lei gli ha preparato la minestra. lui ad un certo punto non ha piu' risposto.
epitaffio questo per il silenzio del vecchietto.
e del tagliaunghie che è rimasto da solo sulla sedia ad arrugginirsi.
ed epitaffio pure alla tristezza di quando metti things into focus and you realize that there's nothing to burn in the end.

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come ho imparato a odiare i trolley # 2


All I know I learned from the carnage.
In my lifetime and beyond.
This morning I found the old notes on something that (obviously) never write.
Did you know that the findings found at Pratica di Mare on the Ustica air disaster (for one thing) is called the "Trolley" in a peripatetic jargon and moderately mild. In practice for the practice of the waste water of the aircraft were in this deal.
quote from somewhere.
This object is a parallelepiped box, light material, equipped with wheels to it can be easily extracted. and up to far so good, as the actor would say 'I hate telling the anecdote of the kind that falls.
Find location, in the airplane, in the front galley, in a compartment carved into the bulkhead separating pilots and cabin galley itself.
During the flight is held in place by rotating handle (like Grendizer not think that in those years was rampant on our televisions just colored) enable it to lock in its storage compartment.
The discovery of the find at that position is a clear indication that the damage to the aircraft took place in the front, unless (like unless ...) on an airplane I did not exist a second-Tigi Trolley also in the back, thing you can check by examining the documents relating to the aircraft, which have not been found dali signed at the RAI in Rome. (Not to be confused with Rai, however, I think extending the sentences virtually any concept you can throw in the racket. Jargon)
However, one must consider the installation of the front galley and trolley is on its project implementation and unchangeable while that of the rear galley is a realization of the owners to get a glove compartment.
So if the plane there were two trolley that position in the discovery of one of them favor one of two situations (damage ahead or behind) and if the trolley on board it would prove only a privileged the hypothesis of damage at the front as described above. yes ...
However, while not yet been able, as I said, examining documents, by interviews with former staff Itavia showed that in the rear galley there was no trolley.

and I would say that this second part of which has a slightly mysterious.
but not so.

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mio cugino che di mestiere fa il barman solo che...


My cousin drunk who works as a barman.
I know that you can not believe, yet it is the only thing I can do. It 'very good. A natural talent. When he's not drunk. When you do not ask for money because he is drunk. When not You acknowledge and closes his eyes because it is unstable, unsteady, intoxicated.
When at one point he had no money to drink, he made a kind of robbery and drunk if I know.
My cousin drunk who works as a barman.

The other day I saw him. Or rather I saw him and I yelled that I had recognized. I was on a motorbike and I pretended like when you feel that green stands for the traffic lights turn orange. I sped up. and I left them. That does not
c'avevo money even for a beer with my cousin who works as just that ... a little less drunk.

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Soltanto un nome anonimo


These days the house pays homage to the cinema is one of the most 'great writers Italian. Ugo Pirro. Yesterday I went to see me and hear things the documentary "Only one name in the credits." At one point
Pirro tells his interviewer something like looks do not believe that the producers with whom I had to do I wonder who they were, and what kind of culture they had. In the end, indeed, is almost better to deal with industrial tile (the one that produced Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion), or spoiled children but they have money to spend.
Right. To put it better. Producing the best crackers. Rather than
? No, rather that I add.
Lately I meet often outright charlatans. To which I can not even tell this story, because I would ask for settling the tie in the belly ... and who the fuck is Ugo Pirro?

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Mi Manca Chiunque. Soprattutto DFW


already know I will miss him. David Foster Wallace (also DFW) died yesterday at his home in California. He committed suicide. At least it seems. We
us grew up with the pain of metonymy, with the wisdom of the enchantment of phrases caught on purpose to be read. Set aside, and understand from the inside after a while. One of those where you can distinguish. One who puts things right. Create a distance. Read David Foster Wallace? Then you know about literature. Six contemporary. Hic et nunc. He used to not necessarily follow the direction. Since things are not things. We are committed matters for the brain thinking. Slightly chipped and brought up to the syntax of the new wetland popular beliefs. us of the seventies, also grew up taking the ball if possible beliefs. Have we finally realized that when you fall for him hurt.
Really. In loving memory
DFW. I miss everyone.
Every word I will miss him. And above all the notes in the margin.

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In castigo nelle bolle di vuoto. Tutto calcolato.



I found (I do not literally) but reading between the lines (but not too much) that there are these vacuum bubbles, in which one if you want you can also hide.
That is to say it better ... the high-energy collisions could (I like the conditional, and hope) form of vacuum bubbles in which the whole universe gradually plunge in search of quiet.
What? It takes so little to feel good? and where you must press this button? I have to buy the stereo Twisted 80's picnic in the mountains with my order to release the energy high? How do you arrange for a row? whole universe is understood in a literal sense, or is it a cosmic metaphor? I also fit the place up.
quiet. What a beautiful word.
Making of quick calculations I believe that there is no better way to stay vigilant and mocking face of this matter that occupies space and it makes us nervous. Okay
makes me nervous. to the point that I have to invent a way to understand how andare in castigo.
Vogliamo ora descrivere l'evoluzione nel tempo della bolla dopo la sua formazione.

La soluzione di bounce vive nello spazio euclideo, che si è ottenuto ponendo t= ? ( e mica lo so...)

Analogamente a quanto visto per il problema della cinematica di una particella soggetta ad un particolare potenziale un campo soggetto ad un potenziale posta inizialmente nello stato di falso vuoto decade per effetti quantistici nello stato di vero vuoto dopo un tempo t, che fissiamo come l'origine dei tempi. ULLALA'

L'equazione è il prolungamento analitico dell'equazione di campo nell'euclideo posto ; quindi la sua soluzione è ottenibile dal prolungamento analitico del bounce, ovvero: You know ...

in the approximation of thin wall (NO LIGHT?) The false vacuum is separated from the true vacuum by bubble wall, localized. The expansion of the bubble is then described by a hyperbolic trajectory

If then R (WHAT?) Is small (IF SO ... I never knew when you were told well in school, as if ... then ... but who decided?) the bubble expands almost instantly at the speed of light. Referring to Figure 8 in a stationary observer O receives information regarding the existence and the expansion of the bubble at the point of intersection P of the universe with its line of the cone of light from the bubble. The same observer from a state of false vacuum to a true vacuum state at the point P 'of intersection between the line of his universe and the hyperboloid, which describes the evolution of motion of the bubble.

seems to me clear. And I want to be a friend dell'iperboloide.

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La quintessenza dell'inadempienza



I go cycling in the evening when the twilight is out the window.
when I can no longer 'blowing it to the computer that has turned against me.
the nice thing is really really pretty nice, but that after only four minutes of cycling to pedaling speed (I borrow a city bike, nothing special) I'm in this place like the photo. I did. with the means that I have;
now I put my music that I say, smoke, and the aqueduct happy does his job well.
and relax. I think of things to kill time in the sun cleared under the arches.
and I think the controversy of brain death usually
so. so much for ...

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La multinazionale dietro al Cinghiale


I do requests.
What is behind the lobby of the Pig? The brush. the big one. what if one has to paint the Great Wall. It seems a bug of the time the eighties coming back from time to time when passing this memorable television commercial.
A kind of crack in the system. God I want to put us inside.


Another question will be the leading actor of the dead spot?
and if he finishes brushing his wall? After leaving work in the middle? Precarious?



other question why there are so many pregnant women around lately?
where they were before. are all in relieving those days. panza allegrotte go around where I step. who is behind the pregnant women?

p

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Olimpiadi de noantri


The nice thing about this was that in August I attended the Olympics, because the captain (a latch or not) always in country houses where they eventually were the background images from the great sports CHINA.
Already the opening ceremony got several goodies that after so many days I have found among my notes, I think about things more 'important that I give to eat but in August it goes. So. The fashion shows in Bangladesh with stalls bracelets de Colle opium, coca, which threatens Bolivia, Norway, with the bearer that is actually Susanna Tamaro, Kazakhstan straight out of a spot on the Magi, those of Samoa with flip-flops, those of Lesotho with the funnel at the top, those of Trinidad & Tobago utter Big Jim, the Estonians have just returned from the camp of the Boy Scouts, the flag bearer of Samoa, however, that which has the right. Whatever. And 'big. Disturbing. The Cameroonians with bongos, those of Montenegro without bitterness. Iran parading with sunglasses and headscarf, in that order. Women sisters seem green. The Guatemala shirt typical of the drunks. The Hungarian outfit with the Dalmatian. Stained with yoghurt (greek? Oh God is that of four years earlier?) To dominate the center of the highlighted Stabilo Boss. Togo without cookies. Angola flag with the hammer and sickle. Antigua and Barbados all dressed like those balls that door Renzo Arbore. Every summer I hope that does not exceed. But still goes around the world to the Olympic asshole. and go with the tarantella. Those of the Sudan released just now by a steam bath, and those of Liberia who are directly in your bathrobe. The Albanians Scazzi, Cape Verdeans with suits of the '70s Mecap, emeritus Arab (UAE, or emasculated?) Constantly on the phone, the Argentines in a wig by gays who dress gays attached to parties in high school, the anorexia of Tanzania, those of the Virgin Islands with bearer very happy, perhaps because it was more 'island, or no longer' virgin ... so among athletes Poland was the pope, Karol was swear, I saw him and he was a god, and there was a Chinese dapperutto infiltrated and then the Italians invade the space of others. Tarry a little ... and laugh. but maybe it is a permanent paresis summer. vacation. then go.
and what else I remember. ah here ... during the games of ping pong, watch the Chinese sample plurimegagiga to score repeatedly and go and take his Palletta as if nothing had happened, when he came back from the playing field, as if they were Quadraro of bowling at the club. and all around to see these forums just for playing ping pong.
my dream is the Olympics of hide and seek.

and acchiapparella. Already I hear them
gay athletes who can not wait to enroll. With
variant acchiapparella chat.
so much for ...

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winter time


people who go around with the severed head.
but to someone else.
in canada.
people who lose this head around.
and anyone who finds it.
in Greece.
the world is different because it is beautiful.
or was it the other way around?

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letture estive antiche e sempre nuove # 1


The Lord will launch against you the curse, the consternation and the threat in all the work you put your hand until you are destroyed and perish quickly because of your evil deeds will make you Lord for giving me abbandonato.Il attack the plague, until it will have eliminated the country of which you are going to take possesso.Il Lord will smite thee with consumption, with fever, with inflammation, with scorching heat, with the drought, blight and rust, which will pursue you until you perito.Il copper sky will be over your head and the ground beneath you will ferro.Il Lord will give the rain of your land powder and dust coming down from heaven on you until you are destroyed. Your body will become meal of all the birds of the sky and wild beasts, and no one will drive. The Lord will strike you down with ulcers of Egypt, with boils, scabies and sharpness, which can not be healed.

here ... reading in the morning.

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Karadzic come Quelo


Karadzic So in the end, give worse der worst war criminal of the former Yugoslavia, it was recycled as Dr. Dragan David Dabi. Formerly known as DDD. A kind of disinfectant. More 'than anything else about his past. A little holy
a little bohemian. One that did not pass unnoticed. One who see it and think but who is that. In the sense of that, the guru of Guzzanti.
One who dispensed wisdom, omitting the fact that he had ordered di massacrare 8.000 bosniaci. Tanto per. Una cosa che nel suo curriculum aveva tolto. Occupava spazio. Uno stage. Ma in realtà lui è un medico cazzo. Se qualcuno ti muore tra le mani, alla fine è mera statistica. Mortacci de sto vecchio con la barba bianca. Non sono parole mie. E' il coro solenne delle vittime di Srebrenica. Bisturi. Per capire da che parte aprirlo da parte a parte. Per vedere se c'è rimasto qualcosa dentro di quelle urla disumane, che non può non aver sentito.

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E' bello penne al filo della vita



ieri sera testaccina in un momento di overdose di pastella;
Prima dell'ora del teatro cercavo come un segucio monco i suppli pe i Prati (nel senso del quartiere); nun ce se ragiona piu' those co quer de place;
no Roman shall blow, I know all fiji de na bitch;
in a good way, like Sicilian Calabrian colluded with the south, dealing with Rome as a region, I lose my appetite and reason, not me by the black of cuttlefish, I want a supplement that stuff is here? you do not. nothing; c'abbiamo the arancina. By A.
Holy shit that will not go to the theater is a theater to see one thing in Stephen Fresi.
What is a good actor, a man of substance, who knows him knows that a dog that music with the chorus, a beetle with the old one, which promises elegance and decorum.
the discovery of the old inn; musical in 2 tempi di Attilio Corsini liberamente tratto da un copione di Pascarella; con Corsini, Stefano Messina, Annalisa Favetti, Roberto Della Casa (come il vino) e il trio Favete Lingus( Stefano Fresi, Emanuela Fresi e Antonio Fornari). Si sta tutti insieme in mezzo alla piazza de Testaccio, quella davanti al Teatro Vittoria; e io de solito odio gli attori quando te se mettono tra i piedi, e te vogliono coinvolge, invece qui li vai a cercare, che ti pare di sta dentro un posto pure tuo, e allora tanto vale che me parli da vicino, che non c'è il distacco, non c'è nessuno smacco ad avecce il posto riservato, qui chi primo arriva sta bello comodo e beato. c'è profumo di pini mai tagliati, vino bianco direttamente sui tavolacci, neanche una zanzara per dirla tutta, e misticanze di attori, musici e poeti, come il mio amico Aprea che alla fine si emoziona e dice della tenerezza del luogo, di questa sana romanità fatta nostalgia, fatta apposta per far cantare e ridere quelli che a teatro ingessati e seduti non ce li vedi mai; Che se devono agità, che altrimenti che campi a fa.
Pensavo meglio della vita in genere, eppure qui mi riconcilio, che a quello serve il vino e le facce della gente; tutti in equilibrio precario, eppure faccio caso a questa cosa che Roma mi appartiene, con i vocalizzi, le rime baciate, cerco di ricordarmi da che parte si mette l'accento per dì le cose che me piace dì, pe fa le cose che me piace fa.
E' tutto vero.
Poi se vedo il Fresi fa le serenate, me viene in mente una cosa che se potrebbe fare dentro un condominio in cui il portiere è lo stesso di prima, quello riccioletto che balla il tango quando puede. Una cosa Trash che diventerebbe Cult. Vero Alè?

Se campa appesi a un filo, non se scampa,
però per carità
non lo tirate troppo che se strappa
lassateve portà
perchè da un filo messo a pendolone
che va de qua e dellà
seppure nun te spieghi la ragione
è bello dondolà
è bello penne al filo della vita
perchè se sai campà
un attimo che passa de sfuggita
è già un eternità


se dondola, if
rocks in question and if it goes

but a moment that passes is already an eternity.
(from "the seven kings of Rome" Luigi Magni)

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Ardecore!



If I hear the music of Ardecore me is to write well.
not doing it on purpose. Tomorrow night they play at Unity Day. Popular prices. 5 € 5.

If passed under the light of the rain my drink Merulana
leaves that have always surrounded me when I spent here even before
always try to avoid clogging the last manhole before they go afloat roma and those who can not see you coming with me float arm in arm
apposta porto a spasso i vecchi dalle panchine e gli levo il vecchiume di dosso che non sta bene, tolgo il trasandato da sotto i lampioni della periferia e indovino l'età di tutti i compleanni dei bambini nei parchi i primi pomeriggi di sole dopo giorni di pioggia coi Mc Donald's chiusi,
perchè stanno in lutto che j'ho ammazzato il pupazzo Ronald che è scoppiato de colesterolo a forza de mcpajata che gli ho proposto io.
Abito allo sprofondo, me ficco nei portoni a prende er ponentino, so sempre stato barzotto come un ragno attaccato a Roma come fosse la sua tela
Abbindolo quello che non c'è e va benissimo così...
Mi sto organizzando tutto un percorso mio di allievi allevati apposta per l'occasione, gente che non It takes more than 'to know how they do not know anything yet. Then placed me, I am clear from all parts of a square and I'm going to guess as to ensure the center directions, directly without a shot being fired, until you feel the wind change, it becomes another kind of wind and beating the air of Ardeatine savannas, mountains Corviale hung somewhere in the hills of Trulli, and I respect them.
Mainly I'm calm I say if we see when we see quine Quane, I think there are two things infinite, the universe and stupidity, but I do not trust the universe
I make sure the idiots come out of the scene from any port of Rome as if it gives him keys without returning
put to death the dealers and organized rave to the maximum sewer because sewers are out and they must fall
rinses with bare hands and do the bowls of caritas that the hungry people who can spit drooling directly on the face of those who thought they were the cream and instead are just gone rancid bad. I keep count of all who bask in for yet another coffee, and around the spoon for those who do not make it more 'for that too. Break bread, break even the wine already that I'm there, Indian organizations Tavernelle with bums of the port of San Lorenzo. Mario Angelo and Angelina try that slips into the cabins to remedy spiccetti, as if he knew that no more call us' from the cabin, and slowly the
smash all, that if there was a superhero in Rome, would not know where anna Mettes pe er mantle.
Quanno is callaccia hands to do the drag and Scratchy Conchetta of Sora Maria a Triumphal all palates thirsty and tired old men in Rome in August alone. I smollico the true bread and I shed the blood of all those who sell umbrellas in the rain but they are
read the poetry of the whole of Nigeria, Congo tamed, Pakistan came out smelling, I read those little booklets that t'appioppano feltrinelli out, I will always spout that it's raining, so I buy them and talk. And they teach me the dance of rain, while it rains, I learn to dance.

Step caresses as if I had my hands on the cheeks only for these mothers to Verano. I spent the mourning at Prima Porta well, I
by mothers who are there every day and add flowers like a giant mosaic to compose beautiful and sad for what we put into every look the salt so that all the stones are piled on the roads consular ready and dressed for dinner again tonight with mom and dad.

Scavo from all other lines of my own that I use metropolitan preferential to those I say.
sgom, steering, I'm against the grain to the municipal police who never laugh because they think it is more 'serious, I download a new version of solitaire on the computer fool the clerk of the prefecture, poraccia that have laid there and does nothing, and needless to not win alone.
avoidance under fire from Giordano Bruno de Campo de Fiori, and suddenly a barbecue, but without all those Who have invaded the square, over the vegetables market in the morning, the flesh of the vaccine field, and while we're disinfects by the sti cojoni beautiful square with megaphones, with cocaine under his arm,
with the car parking areas that are 'close as possible, because the bitches that have both inside and do not miss du steps that have both thirty centimeters because of heel cobblestones and that at least they do not forgive. Do not miss any. I lose myself.

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Gabbiano Mannaro


for The Gulls I may also die out.
'm romantic and I'm proud. The problem of seagulls
contemporaries is that I know a little bit forced. If the command right now. In Rome are all out. Run with Tmax, and the fins are at traffic lights. I'm not joking. Gulls evolved from a little sow traffic with the maxi scooter. With the leg booster for you to understand that they really know figs and there is something for anyone. Let me be clear. I do not ever kill a gull cries of dawn with me fucking laugh hysterically. Uaaaa Uaaa Gna Gna Gna. It seems the cry of pain but at the same time, the cynical awareness that sooner or later they will make us all out. I claim that the seagull is the true master of the world. I often think that those who invented them, and subsequently modified is a genius. Because now we are all doomed. Eat us alive. It ciberanno us at irregular intervals. Breakfast with rats Magliana soon not be enough '. It 's just a mere matter of time. Oh fools ... In particular, the gull of the courtyard of my building with whom I chat. To understand if you care somewhere. Because his laugh bar battle cry worries me a lot.
My father has a theory that one of the building opposite from the food and so they are crowded. Apart from that there is only one, obese, and yet not know how to fly that God continues to send it to him good. And then the dynamics of offering food to a seagull does not work anymore '. The Seagull is a lover of self service. Fast food.
Bastard. Seagull werewolf why do not you burn at sunset?
I had said I was romantic.

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Il fantastico mondo di Oz ( e di Ingrid)


Ingrid was not there two days ago at the Feltrinelli Via Appia. Perhaps he was still chained. I do not know. I looked around and I have not seen. And yet yesterday when I heard the news of his release I immediately thought two things. In Oz. And Amos Oz himself.
The other night, the Israeli writer did a lesson in writing and no one felt the need to write down something. See this man who tells you his morning walks every day in the desert, spring, summer autumn winter, can you imagine that then gets to work, taking coffee in the usual place. Imagination and empathy
invent the characters of our lives belong to us. A kind of kitchen where everyone can enter, but in the end we must decide who has the responsibility of the ingredients. How to mix things up. Assuming that one knows what it means. He tells neighbors that are arranged when they feel observed by Amos Oz, because they fear the happy ending in his book. You never know. Better to be presentable. As Oz is one that puts us in the books for those who really met.
without a plot. Without an ending. How would Chekhov. Being a spy, who uses the human comedy compassion, the tenderness and irony. I do not know if in that order. But anyway the point is another.
Be curious. Learned as a child. And do not lose the naivety. Or something that looks a lot like us. Ingrid's why they released. Here's where things
close the loop. Here's how.

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All'occorrenza soccorro


When I see people who feel bad for the road, I like doing this. Usually there is always someone who says. Is there a doctor? I. Here I am. I'm a doctor on these occasions. I'm not a doctor, and not even know which side you start to heal someone. But I like the idea of \u200b\u200btranquility that is formed on the face of people. Then, as he was trained as usual crowd of onlookers for a moment I walk away with the excuse to call a colleague who does not respond needless to say, because I have no medical colleague, since I'm not a doctor. I suggest only to keep the feet up to the old man who collapsed.
This is one thing I know. The know it all. But I do the part. And I believe me.
then I guess the person I have assisted worse when he comes home at all. That the next time I'll be there. Mica coincidences always coincide. Like the "soccorrenze" need when they want them.

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Manco Today


This morning I discover that there is a program of Mediolanum Channel (sic) where they dei provini per cercare "attori" che presentino un programma sul teatro. E fin qui tutto bene. Ma come nel film "L'odio" il peggio deve ancora arrivare. Sento che la vocina che staziona dentro di me, che in certi frangenti assomiglia piu' che altro ad un coro greco, mi spinge a non farlo. No. Non cedere. Manda quella mail , sistema quegli appunti che devi mandare sul soggetto; e invece no, voglio proprio compiere il mio naturale esercizio di voyueurismo. Se c'è una cosa che non sopporto è la totale mancanza di capacità artistiche, la presunzione di saper recitare, cantare, ballare, scrivere. MI rendo conto che è un discorso accidioso, e per sua stessa ammissione spregevole, ma d'altra parte questo è il manifesto dell'acredine.
see 40 (or something) that unlucky candidates are scrambling to recite the monologues with no ability to interpret the same to me. The site says you have to vote for the best. That's right ... no no control there is no way to exercise dissent and net total. I will not look mediolanumchannel never in my life, but you can never say. Dogs like that make you come anger. Better to stay away. A ostentatious mediocrity scares me. The shame, and a subtle but persistent layer of awareness of its own maimed would be appreciated. Manco
them dogs. Really. My God I can not resist. As I look at other 3 and then stop. And the taste of the ancient and evergreen trash.

ps
clicking on the title of post you can see these hidden talents.
Prepare the antidote to anger, however. These are real dogs. With apologies to the original dogs.

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them dogs is worse. Better


Vecchiarelli 3 nice male perched in a gray area every morning. On the loan.

1 Today is worse
2 Yes, but Sunday.
3 Sunday then you went?
2 is a shadow Terracina I also melted a
Yes, but today is worse

break disturbing

2 In return we have spent little. But the first leg. 3
But however you who go to sea on Sunday. Go there first
1. 2
But not my home. E'di my daughter. It is always a
with that?
2 Si (going to add something, pretending to check a bill that obviously does not throw) 3
He's still with that asshole?
2 is not shit. Then there is her. Not me. But tell him
1.
2 Who? 1 A
your daughter. Tell him that is an asshole. With everything you have done for them.
(not specific, but 2 looks thoughtful. That is to say. ... Actually)
2 However, it is improved. 1
But today is worse. 2
today do not see it. Better
3.

Cute Butterfly Phrase

Amy is what will be waiting

I do not want to put pictures of Amy Winehouse. If one goes to hear the voice here is that the best thing one can hear these days.
On the web there are pictures of sites gossip depicting this genius, with no respect for the human being. They say that Amy will die soon. Probably not even come to take 25 years. If I had to explain to a child's talent, the concept of talent does not know what to do, I'm afraid that if I did read a book or watch a movie would not understand. Instead the music. Someone said that music says it all without mentioning anything.
I think Amy Winehouse could be the perfect example. Look Amy would say.
massacred, fragile, a victim of what his "wicked, wonderful world" has created. Like Cobain, Janis Joplin, as we said yesterday with my colleague, friend identitycrash . To me it hurts when they take off the talents of the scene. I already imagine what he would say later. There was talk of posterity, of being posthumously. and the conviction that to die for an artist is sometimes the only solution. Pero 'fuck Amy to sing you have to be alive. Then there are the music tracks on that one takes, however, that if the door after her.
In these days when I heard yet another sad news that concerned the Winehouse I told you that sooner or later I would see her sing live.
Drunk, with ketamine at hand, his nose split cocaine, yet with all his voice, suffering, heralding a suspended life, and lit up like a few other things. I would be there. All to blow air on the wounds. When the blood comes out it means you're alive. As long as you exit. The mother
Amy says that her daughter does not recognize it more, 'but he says it with the tenderness of a mother, knowing that someone has given, and someone off. It says so right? I am one of those who do not think you could save Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Tenco.
I believe that art begins and ends with the freedom of an act of salvation, and destructive at the same time. We can not do anything. I do not think that Amy thinks of Janis Joplin when they say that it ends up dying. In contrast to its is constantly besieged by cameras, zoom cameras, fans and even take a picture to sell some British tabloid, would sell a kidney. Amy is the wicked witch. Amy is the good fairy. Amy falls alone in the house. Amy wants children. A family. Amy breaks down and puts us into things that the only certainty. The vocal cords to which he clings. and which threatens to choke.
its genome will be broken glass on the skin, this will be his Russian Jewish mixture that destroys the heart. port of the signs that do not know hideouts. and begins to sing about it. for catharsis. Not to be that everyone will remember. No.

Pokemon Platinum Walk Through Walls

I like laundry. And I like to wait.
The waiting times in some places work better.
are used only coins that have value there. Yet they call them chips. You read the books because there are stories. Do not say you're reading a libro perchè sai...no, leggi una storia, che è diverso. Le molecole dentro sono pulite.
In questi posti sostanzialmente la gente è lievemente sorridente. Ce ne sono ancora poche a Roma, ma quelle che ci sono mi affascinano. Ogni volta mi chiedo cosa ho da far lavare di enormemente gigante, che mi spinga ad entrarci.
Mi viene in mente sempre l'anima. Anche se sono consapevole che non sia gigante. Niente affatto. Mi piacerebbe incontrare delle persone. Parlare di ciò che stanno leggendo.
Conversare in altre lingue. Come se la centrifuga ci rimescolasse i dittonghi. E premesse sul palato per far uscire le parole che non sappiamo come dire.

Intanto che aspetto cerco di fare il ciclo completo.
Da dentro si vede benissimo fuori.

L'altro giorno ho visto arrivare uno matto che voleva entrare nella lavatrice.
Aveva scelto un momento ideale. Perchè c'era un black out.
Diceva che dentro ci aveva lasciato una cosa di quando era piccolo lui.
Mi sembrava convincente. Io ci credo. Chissà le cose che mi ci sono perso dentro.

Se il ciclo di lavaggio fosse una specie di hula hoop temporale come la mettiamo?

Fotos Gratis Chelsea Charms

Laundry & Other 3 lives (at least)


L'altra sera alla libreria Giufà a San Lorenzo i tipi di Minimum fax hanno organizzato l'incontro con uno dei miei scrittori preferelli. Rick Moody. E' uscito il suo nuovo libro (Tre vite) appunto. Abbandonando la didascalia sfrenata diciamo che è stata one of those nights when you realize that the readings make sense if someone has things to say.
Moody is a great writer and his stories speak grinding and stuttering issues of things (I like it) There were various types of human beings. The Stancanelli in our country with his faithful dog in tow, I had already seen the most Lian 'times, now we are friends (with the dog of course). And then, Zadie Smith, who acted as introducer of the writer in New York. Zadie lives in our city with her husband (also a novelist, that Nick Laird, an Irishman from the colored pens that I recommend "The band of coffins" because it is the only released in Italy at our beliefs), returning to the words said by Moody I can think of things.
when he spoke of human pledged to have a drink so they do not realize that most 'metaphors. I believe that an effective and devastating description of what is happening here and now.
With that hat on his head, his voice breaking from the vocal cords yellowing of New York's ride with all the phonemes that concern, Rick Moody Cheever described as a more 'cerebral Swift a more' tied to reality, splashed a little less However, by Kurt Vonnegut. It was otherwise too. They talk about the role of the American novelist (and increasingly 'the New Yorker) post Sept. 11. It is said that the perfect novel on the subject has not yet been written, but the extreme romantic symbolic Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close) and those of Ken Kalfus more 'visionary salsa Cassavetes (One particular state of disorder) I have talked about how literature can deal with the tragic events and return the form of metaphor. So in those cases any drink could be lethal. You end up talking about life with irony that is perhaps the towers. Coming down 'with a crash. It is said that the ambiguity is necessary to writing. And I agree on everything. Moody's is also on the usual question of the guy with the cigar and Havana (still allowed to move freely) about 45, handsome alleged that I can imagine reading all the reviews, and then set the application background with the typical "I know things and are here just for me to say how much I look good "and Moody answered" yes ".
But now risen. Take a drink if you do not understand the metaphor.

So I set foot on the most 'of the island, set foot in the same place where the Italians, the same spot where they set foot on the Irish, the same spot where they set foot on Puerto Ricans, and now before us, because as long as they are rubble I do not care what's hot, we went inside, and as a desert sand and glass, glass in a landfill reduced by the flames, and I hear the voices, but now it's been a while, all those voices, layered one on top in their one hundred and fifty different languages, I can not distinguish none of this they say, I just say: Hey, it's about time someone listens to us. "