The Agitator Painting By Diego Rivera

A new beginning

On Zelda through RONZULLI Camilla, a new adventure .

Difference Between Manual Underwriting

Library

A woman enters the library where I work and rely on my advice, saying only two priorities: he wants an original novel and dealing with strong feelings. We look at all the covers, open the books, talk, try to understand what the individual likes and the book for her. It seems to me convinced, I thank you, my help was invaluable. I leave in peace, I continue my business and I see and put on his glasses, reads a few lines, he smiles. I conquered. Then he turns the volume in his hands, he looks for the price, it identifies. Freezes. He thinks for a moment. Then, with a little 'embarrassment, puts the book in its place and walks away with his head down and defeat, without buying anything. Not accustomed to give up a novel because it costs too much. Even I was accustomed to seeing such scenes, but captain more often.

Monster Energy Plakat

The polka, my second published story (2002)

was the long journey that brought me back home by train, I thought the Polka in Warsaw. Through the windows of the train verdemarcio the sky was on fire phosphorus, the ash ground, my eyes struggling to focus on the slip of landscapes already burning. The train rattled under my ass, pile of speculation of the past. Great idea Warsaw. Great experience train. Great invention. I thought of the man and Polka Warsaw in triumph, the charm and power of invention, progress, then get going screaming success, victory, greatness. Really great time. I thought. My time seems a little different. Despite the numerous and amazing leaps forward in decades I am not involved by such an atmosphere, rather, the long ride seem very close to stop and smell the latest acceleration of planetary apocalypse. Something must be going the wrong way.

Still, still, sitting on the same chair with wheels that will not turn over anything, compacted in one square meter of a supermarket than a million square feet, hands grasping a new object from the tape, the flying over the scanner with a thin red beam it locates the code bar and with a beep confirms the merger, the printer of the case with a weak ground marked with the price on the ticket, his hands grasping a new object, plastic eggs, swallow a yawn, the beep, strong white light, the grind printer on the receipt of cash, tricchettra, rubber slippers duemilalire, the breath of the customer, to mature the digestive and shit, very hot, sausage, beep, tricchettra, a child cries because he wants chocolate, There will be fifty degrees, out there, and Questro asshole wants his chocolate bar, will melt in the hand, down on the little arms, and then invest everything at least be able to taste his chocolate bar of shit? Beep, tricchettra, a customer asks me for a bag, beep, bananas, tricchettra, a thousand bananas, then please ask, beep, I get by in the new act, tricchettra the envelope extension, thank you, please, icicles, beep, tricchettra , all babies cry, beep, old as well, tricchettra, I want to stretch my neck and play a two or three star!, beep, cannellini beans, frozen in an envelope format barracks tricchettra, a customer asks me to currency exchanges in a five-hundred, beep, take the trolley to specific tricchettra, "that is not acting Machinetta" beep tricchettra dishwashing detergent, is August, mid August, the old air conditioner pump temperature which is a new buzz, breasts semiscoperti I peered more or less distant, absorbent inner tricchettra beep, I renew my forehead in millions of tiny drops of sweat, beep, tricchettra, I open the drawer and two fingers on the sixth or seventh attempt, grabbed the money five hundred who insists on splashing away with arrogant ease.

I comes a shock to the nostrils. An overwhelming cry of stale sweat baby sweat invigorated by the son of a mother's armpit that I do not know what it is, the sentence in my head a stab of migraine.

I look at the customer hands me his coins with his hand trembling.

E 'on one and sixty, sixty years have and sixty hair on his head, her face thin and hollow full of black spots, dark circles and carved black, eyes and subtle blacks and black bushy eyebrows in the tight time constraints and the large and protruding ears, a bit like biting here and there. Green velvet dress pants three sizes on a flannel shirt and brown suits to the Moscow winters. The meeting of our eyes protruding chin in a smile of poor teeth, and holds out his hand in a brusque nod to reiterate its request. With courtesy. He could slap me. He could have red shoes with polka dots. It could be the inventor of the internal combustion engine.

All this does not matter.

show him the palm of the hand still holding tight to cinquecentolire between forefinger and thumb. They spend several seconds before he is aware of this, interface, is at the head of his pallet and lay trecentocinquantalire the palm of my hand, touching it with his sweaty fingers thin and brown and whispered

; "recount."

Firmly tighten the palm and fingers free, keep my money in his hand already half-closed in some kind of incoherent trying to surrender and feel a drop of sweat take heart, sit on the right eyebrow and get down to rigarmi face. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe in a little two inhalations deeper than usual.

"are fine" I say. I'd like to rest his forehead on the scanner and wait for some kind of beep, sleep, shit, drink a mojito ice and scratching their balls in the shade of the poplars of the Mugello. I still want many more. But still I get to play the melody of large retailers, to the sound of grace, but of course, and it appears, and beeps and tricchettra. I love evolution.

humanity that runs in front of me I do not like it at all. Millions of lives all the same, which only goes to sneak a second to their expectations, four hundred pounds from a voucher, a gentle way by myself. Blank faces, eyes that cry loneliness, despair, pain and death. They make me ill just suck all the meat put in motion as a single mass, one body disgusting and vulgar, flesh on flesh, eyes, livers, brains shattered a sliding mass and deformed tails whizzing shatters into a thousand different cases and reconnecting a second later, still together, still meat, a nasty slip mad orgy of sweat and dandruff total humanity. I love evolution.

Sono l'ultimo fottuto ingranaggio della grande catena di distribuzione alimentare messa su nel nostro amato paese di merda, ho la stessa sensibilità delle macchinette prezzatrici, lo stesso tatto dei rappresentanti di alluminio in rotoli, la stessa faccia brillante degli ultimi sette presidenti della Società, anche se tuttora, sentenziano i Responsabili, mi manca il loro rassicurante sorriso che pare, potrei non acquisire mai. Sono sostituibile da chiunque in qualsiasi momento, non si richiede esperienza, non si richiede interesse o conoscenza in materia, cercasi cazzone senza tatuaggi, piercing e orecchini visibili per impiego invidiabile da unmilioneedue al mese, inviare curriculum. Basta una supposta e le qualità base del venditore/cassiere model will be installed in DNA. It should be introduced on the piss before the onset quarantottore; are planned annual booster to maintain quotient and occasional updates, without considering the ampliation course and subsequent courses (well other suppositories) for those who groped the escalation in the Company . Here you are ready: smiles and sincerity, sincere willingness, blablabla, give me your money and do not care if you sell the shit, the important thing is that the boat goes, we go to the boat if the boat goes, the Company must, if the Company the country should go, Europe is the world going, long live system, long live the new economy limp dick, ale ale ale golden days are back, cheers mangy cunt and powder of globalization, force balls, buy our shit and give us the money you've earned sweating your shit, your shit, producing, selling your shit, I'm really happy to be part of this grand design, are just happy to feel socially useful, force balls that land begs another toast, that work ennobles man, smile and spend with us, beep beep and tricchettra, rejoice and spend more, then we play together.

Disponetevi in \u200b\u200ba row, ordered on the sides.

Turn your back and fell down her pants.

Show your ass.

Bend forward and dilated il buco del culo.

            Sta passando SignorEconomia e se sarete fortunati sentirete bussare un qualcosa di grosso e duro, viscido, ma un poco soltanto, affilato quanto basta.

            Respirate profondamente e serrate gli occhi, siete i Prescelti.

            accompanied his forces by synchronizing your diaphragm.

'll see, will come without pain, and should not last too long.

A push again, groan or cry, makes you feel better.

Feel fill from the river of life hot, dense and delicious juice of dioCommercio.

Rejoice, you are chosen, the winners of the last, great new contest. The Contest of the Century, the Millennium Competition, the Competition Total. All prizes combined, all the dreams of your life, all the money you want, travel, houses, cars, chips and stallions of the Virgin Mary. Everything like in the TV, amazing is not it? You buy it and you win everything, is not a miracle? Each diecimilalire labeled, each one hundred stamps the card fills up, every ten cards the jackpot, the jackpot every five Jolly for access at the reception.

Luxury Resorts.

Privacy respected.

limousine with driver.

Disponetevi in \u200b\u200ba row, ordered from the sides.

Turn your back and fell down her pants.

Show your ass.

You will feel warm to fill the river of life, the juice of dioCommercio dense and delicious.

Tighten the walls of the butt, if you want to helping you with your hands, not even a drop lasciatene slip away.

Do not pour the life between the legs, it would be disrespectful.

happens once in a million, to be chosen.

of feeling life inside.

Tighten your butt, and you spend your last centomilalire to our store, we deserve it, a bottle of champagne seems to us a nice way to celebrate with all employees, up, the last one hundred sheets soiled by a thousand assholes fucking pounds .

Then all free.

Then all present.

Then everything like in the TV.

Earth begs another toast.

They take me away in five, my theater is long enough, standing on the chair with the usual wheels that will not play ever. Some customers are fleeing in fear, others I still enjoy watching. Run wiped out by the sun flashing crazy ambulance and police, a scene from bad movies. But those who come to pull me down from my little box have the same color of my shirt, the same portrait on the chest, the eyes of colleagues always unmistakable, unambiguous ways the kind of friend who I was or who a day or 'else is up your ass kicked a supposed similar to mine.

"It will be was the heat, poor boy, "I hear a voice sharp bounce from the crowd watching me, that micro escorted by army while I get in the car with the police. The ambulance I wanted. The police even. SignorEconomia also seems to have ended with me .

"The really hot shit" shouted loudly, at that parking stoned zombies.

verdemarcio Through the windows of the police car the phosphorous sky is burning, the ash ground, my eyes struggling to focus on this slip of landscape burning already. The steering wheel rattles under my ass, pile of speculation of the past. Great invention, the steering wheel, that wheel is not fighting with the traffic and the cry of the siren summer tune. The policeman sitting next to me will be yes and no twenty years, and I removed the handcuffs and beats two taps on my thigh, as if to tell me to keep quiet, or that nothing happened, or more. I scan as soon as his chin and his mouth, looking up from my hands. He has a beard to be done. Then I look outside and still smile a little, and I think the trip back from Warsaw, the Polka and the man in triumph, the charm and power of invention, progress, then get going screaming success, victory, greatness. Great time, something must be going just the wrong way.

The heat really knocks me, I sweat profusely row face, my yawn seems liberated in able to eat Florence. I look at the policeman in the face and smile really.

After all, life does not suck that much.

Earth begs another toast.

[ Polka Warsaw freely inspired to 'homonymous song by Vinicio Capossela (passion of the time) and published in Parol & Notes No. 2 ( as winner of the homonymous literary prize), special edition Millelire Alternative Press, November 2002]

Nikon Prostaff 4x32 Reviews

in 2000 - my first published story

Più che come ricordi o come flash di memoria si impongono come fotogrammi. Chiari e dolcemente in movimento, in una sequenza che non è la loro ma che soltanto di poco si dilata e rallenta per lasciarli guardare, gustare fino in fondo. Ne esco abbastanza male. Mi vedo in ginocchio nella polvere e nel fango del campino di via Rodari, con le mani ai fianchi a guardarlo scivolare via per l'ennesima volta in quei passettini scomposti ed a loro modo armonici, zompettare e scavalcare orsi fino a dieci metri dalla porta, poi tirare e cadere per l'impatto con la palla ed infilare per la quinta o la sesta volta il nostro Leo che, nonostante la riconferma, goalkeeper would not be ever. That was the last contest between the sections A and B, were in fifth grade, then we would have gone to great schools and the teams would change. We lost ten to four and it was, I swear, last time I felt hatred for Nino. Then the hate turned into admiration and affection, perhaps in friendship, partly because Nino ended up in my section D for three years and was my right wing. At the school of the great, which is something else entirely.

We just stuck to the green lawn of the classrooms full-time and played a lot more, almost every day, sometimes even when it rained, in those times when only the teachers think of anything else. It was in that year that he began Nino in a real team, in the last games of the season, with the jersey with the number sewn back and the true colors, red and blue, which seemed very seriously, meaning the years, and even smaller in stature calzoncioni those that came almost under his knees to kiss the socks, tied with white thread always too tight on the calf, on pain of movement and mobility of the ankle. We had twelve and Nino was really small. From the old wooden bleachers Fraticini former camp, with ice that defeated numbing me from the sun and I colored the right hand rose, I saw him warm up and get into the field ten minutes from the end, with fourteen shoulders to take over a seven battered and exhausted, I saw him break away from the bears, take a hit on the right , then a left to reach the ball and start the spell, that rock with leather that looked like part of the right foot, all mud and pain, all one, with the coach who yelled the first to pass the ball and then remained with his mouth open and the huge brown cigar dangling, to admire it, like me, small and uncoordinated, their way and jump over the boundary of the area cursed, and then a bear, the last, and then the shot and then down with the butt on the ground that it would not have learned anything, and the ball in the net and the goalkeeper, a bear, really, who still had to understand even just a comma, all that talk. My pink icicle came to earth, and maybe even a cigar brown coach. And he, Nino, not even rejoiced, seemed stunned, awed by the army of men older than him, and his friends gave him some envious and appalled pat on the back and said good, nothing more. He played the other two games as a starter and scored three more goals. The following year he was the idol of the team, the champion, and what mattered, for another two years, my right wing.

            Era piccolo piccolo, Nino, il più piccolo della classe, era scuro di pelle ed aveva i capelli e gli occhi nerissimi, i tratti forti e decisi anche in quel visino da bambino, inequivocabile figlio del sud e del Mediterraneo, le spalle strette e cadenti, le gambine corte e sottili, leggermente curvate all'interno come i giocatori veri, i piedini piccoli, quasi minuscoli, a prima vista inefficaci ad ogni eventuale ulteriore richiesta di equilibrio. Nino era piccolo ed era fuori dal branco, silenzioso, taciturno, cresciuto su una strada che non gli aveva regalato altro che quella leather sphere, no inhibitions, no impudence, that sounded rude or anything useful in life. He spoke little and learned with difficulty, and seemed sad. Many of us do not spared at all, and today the cynicism of that age can not help but remember with a smile, a bitter smile, loser, coward. We were nice and bright, our mothers were doing the race to buy the most beautiful sweater already looked at the girls and when we could even touched, rent porn movies with her brother of Sandro age and listened to rock music because it sounded demonic. Nino was the rat, the black man, even if the foul was not dirty, he knew only redeem himself with three hundred dribbles below and even seemed to want to do, not bragging, not showing, he was afraid. Maybe sometimes I too made fun of, perhaps cynicism or maybe because I just wanted to shake him and get him out of that sleep, I do not know, I know for a fact that art between his feet and began to love it enough, no envy, no jealousy, only love for that magical dance incorrect, the four steps for me worth the compensation and for the rest of the group, the multiplication of the sneers off the field.

In those years Nino played two good leagues, and was seen by the selection stravisto provincial and took it with him when Nino was already fifteen years, I do not know for how long, maybe two seasons, they told me that he soon returned to the local team and I only know that great Sample never took the right road, and never became a great champion. Something was missing, said the men and those of the Bar of campino Zotti, something small but important blow to decisis decisive moment, the coldness of the penalty taker at the last minute of the Cup final, character issues and just. They said he was afraid. These things I've never believed, but perhaps it was. Nino had many goals, he missed a few but very important penalties and missed seven out of eleven in his last championship with the Provincial. An amazing thing for me. However, at least by birth, growth, and we lost a bit 'all, each in pursuit of any one of many lives among which there happened to be able to choose from, all equal, all melancholy and sad approved, each with dreams stifled and repressed in the drawer closed , with the key thrown into the river, leaning against the iron railing of a routine to wait to see your body move, perhaps as late as possible. And he, who perhaps had not even a dream, that perhaps he was the only one of sixty-eight of this unfortunate class petty provincial town, which alone can aspire to something a bit ' not mean, well, he lost like us, a victim of everything and nothing, everyone and anyone, perhaps only of himself and of the narrow little head black, was lost to do the work of his father, a bricklayer and ' scaffold man, that I just can not imagine those little hands and legs in those from mouse, to pull up homes for the Bears. Sante, who fifty years and more of us from the windows of the Bar Zotti saw us all grow, Nino said that the shoes hanging from a nail fastened to aluminum, in his room, saying that when the nail is made weak and would be folded to make them roll on the ground, he probably would have sold my legs, and maybe that day would have said enough, but it is just another of the many stories that I have never believed.

His father died five years ago, the victim of a job poorly done; Nino left with his mother and four or maybe five or six brothers, one smaller than the other, almost all to put brick on brick and lime mortar. Then one of them, I think the eldest, was arrested for drug dealing in Rimini, when he was on vacation, three or four years ago. Salvatore, the only one who knew of view too, got married and went to live in Turin. The others do not know.

Nino has been missing for a year and nobody knows anything about him, not even his mother. Not even took away a bag, no nothing, said nothing to anyone, did not leave written anything, did not call, nothing. Someone swears he's gone off with Isaeva, a Bulgarian girl who attended a couple of months and that she too is gone. Gone, perhaps in Bulgaria. Some people think that they have kidnapped the Arabs, for it to play in an imaginary league interplanetary. Someone else thinks he's dead. Research has a rubber face and shit, and credibility hunted down the asshole, and they seem mute and resigned to anything.

I that I was wrong so many penalties in my life, perhaps all, this life that I've put on the to the sound of nails and blasphemies of aluminum on the world, here, I like many others I imagine with that piece of leather attached to the foot to kill bears in a Bulgarian pitch on the outskirts of Sofia, with his ass on the ground after a shot and broken Isaeva in the eyes of my eyes, I imagine, tall blonde and white, with shoes red and with all those smiles that Nino was left on the street. In her room has never been found any nail, and even the shoes, but found a drill hole on the wall behind the door, a tiny little hole, and you know, some legends are just die hard.

Fortunately, for us who we are.

[ Nino and lever football Class of '68 - story inspired by the (almost) same name song of Francesco De Gregori and winner of the "Words & notes," first year, organized by the Public Library of Empoli Florence - published in the homonymous (yes this time) special edition book Millelire Alternative Press, March 2000]

Nightclub Live Camera

Materiali... 2010

The last three books by Mario Benedetti form a dialectical reading them in parallel to understand the evolution of a poetic journey that reaches the synthesis of materials with an identity. The writing is composed of poetry, prose and a 'non-fiction text types "who does not embrace the logic and argumentation mechanisms characteristic of the genre: the links are organized by a conceptual ability to observe fully opera. The book continues the exploration of existential glory Human (2004) and black paintings on paper (2008): this writer is to find and recognize himself, experiences, things that belonged to him or belonging to him.
Materials identity is a key title: sense of identity is what has always dug Benedetti poem, and the materials are the culmination of this research. The identity is no longer recognized or alleged to the essences of things and people, but it crumbled into entities, bodies, atoms that make up our world and everything, but never particularly essential. For this all comes to coincide with nothing, with the void ("The defeat is the largest not be all '). Materials about a tendency towards the void, in the same way, in the persuasion and rhetoric, the image of the weight, which tends downwards is a metaphor for man's longing for the absolute. The work of Michelstaedter Benedetti is the topic on which you graduated: Join the reading of Bataille, Rilke, Sage, Celan, is the background of this writing. As the man Michelstaedter, the Materials I can not know things 'directly', but 'jointly', no longer able to communicate, but mean. The references to Bataille Michelstaedter are in a speculative summary: the idea of \u200b\u200ba poem 'fallen', 'enjoyment of subtracted images, "which consists of" ruins ", which is what the inner experience, is a common denominator of the ratio seen / invisible of the Duino Elegies, the links between unrelated signifiers in Sage, the poesia franta di Celan.

L’indagine esistenziale segue un processo di disumanizzazione. In Umana gloria le poesie hanno una trama, esiste un io che può ancora ricostruire l’esperienza vissuta: la testualità è spesso frammentata, ma la ricerca del soggetto è espressa con versi che la rendono esplicita al lettore. In Pitture nere la scrittura procede per automatismi: le esperienze non hanno più forme compiute e definite, la loro essenza si separa dalla loro materia, si disperde. La materia popola un universo nero in maniera disarticolata: colori, lacrime, reliquie, smalti, supernove sono punti di orientamento percettivi che restano sospesi. Nei Materiali, la «tipologia testuale saggistica» e la struttura recompose the book back to the dispersion. The first part, the tearing of the summit, about a poem that has lost heart, integrity, as a body that not only does not recognize the distinction between the physical and the psyche, but is reduced to "blood" (p. 41 ), its constituent material. If the body becomes the material of which it is composed, the I and you no longer have the ability to exist for one another, their experiences are among the many atoms that make up the universe, are half the land, half in the sky, with no possibility of genuine contact. The area populated by dehumanized materials is told in the closing section, biosphere: the final text, blue, and all the vacuum reaches a kind of balance almost ecstatic, as resolved, at peace. But no recurrence also the automatism of black paintings, which give the impression of a poem opened with an open meaning. Materials close to rear a poetic journey, leaving the ongoing existential questions. The search for Benedetti has reached the form of lyric-wise, but remains in the air, waiting.

Maria Borio

Bad Chest Infection Symptoms

Saturday, February 19 from 18.30 to Glue

How To Decorate Shower Doors

Counseling della Nutrizione presso la sede del Centro Studi Bhaktivedanta

Seminario tenuto da Roberto Innocenzi presso la sede del Centro Studi Bhaktivedanta a Ponsacco
Sito Web: www.csbcounseling.org

Sabato 5 Febbraio 2011

Tema: Counseling della Nutrizione

La nutrizione è intimamente connessa al benessere di ogni essere vivente e non si può parlare di buona salute se la nutrizione non è adeguata.

La persona ha bisogno di curare e rispettare il proprio corpo affinché esso sia efficiente, in modo che possa espletare tutte le funzioni necessarie per evolvere in sintonia con le leggi della Natura. Affinché questa meravigliosa creazione divina che è il corpo possa funzionare per favorire il percorso evolutivo dell'individuo, è necessario che vengano adeguatamente nutrite le miliardi di cellule di cui è composta. Tanto più correttamente la si nutrirà, tanto più a lungo e meglio potrà vivere. 
Le cellule sono unità intelligenti. Quando il corpo è sano, esse fanno sempre la cosa giusta al momento giusto, anche quando noi non ne siamo consapevoli, regolando perfettamente il nostro metabolismo per permettercidi esprimere tutte le nostre potenzialità fisiche, intellettuali e spirituali.
 Ogni forma di cibo, non solo fisico, ma anche psichico, produce un effetto diretto sulla regolazione del metabolismo e di conseguenza incide sul decorso patologico o sulla riattivazione del processo di guarigione. Per questo non sarà mai abbastanza l'importanza che diamo all’alimentazione.
 In questo seminario verrà trattato il tema della nutrizione e la sua influenza sul benessere generale dell'individuo e si conseguenza sulla qualità delle sue relazioni.

Domenica 6 Febbraio 2011


Tema: Tecniche di autoconsapevolezza: La Bioenergetica di A. Lowen

La bioenergetica è un modo di comprendere la persona osservando i suoi processi energetici. Questi processi, tra cui la produzione energy through breathing, their metabolisms to it and the discharge of energy in motion, are basic functions of life. The amount of energy that you have and use made of it determine the response to various situations of life. If you have more energy, this will lead to greater harmony in the ability of individual expression. But for this to happen we need to harmonize body, mind and soul as it is only in the perfect harmony between these different dimensions of being that you can aspire to reach a full well-being, supported by a high sense of integrity, love for others and aware of the relationship with the Divine. Thanks this sublime balance can be achieved that "state of grace" as difficult to achieve in everyday life and essential for our fulfillment.

User Manual For Tekonsha Mark 12

Thursday, February 17 at 21.30 Vicchio

Thursday, February 17, 2011 21.30
Emiliano Gucci
has
HUMANITY

Public Library "Giotto" - Piazza Don Milani

Info: 0558448251 - biblioteca@comune.vicchio.fi.it

Astigmatic Keratotomy

Il falso teorema del golpe morale

The false theorem coup moral
of Giuseppe D'Avanzo

The President of the Council, seventy-five years, held near the villa - for a fee - a prostitute for a few minor of months in 2010. This is done very stubborn despite the fog and the complaints. Case a question arises (Berlusconi has committed a crime?) And had some political effect. Let the song in a judicial question, for the moment.


We list some of the political outcome in a question. His behavior may be a good time, appropriate to the duties that free public wanted to hire?

As you can see, each of these questions is concrete, factual because it refers to national interests and our collective destiny. For this reason, public assumption of liability claims and demands urgently a political opinion, before the moral and legal obligations.

If we were in a country where public discourse is nurtured by good faith, disinterestedness and public spirit would find themselves (and confront) the scope of the questions the reasons for the institutional crisis that threatens to plunge the country into a civil war or
an inevitable decline. Unfortunately

il discorso pubblico nazionale è alimentato soltanto dalla manipolazione, dal falso indiscutibile organizzato a tavolino, da uno spettacolo che conserva la comunità nell'incoscienza dissolvendone ogni senso critico. "Confondere e non convincere" è la regola. Non è altra l'intenzione della manovra chiamata "in mutande ma vivi" lanciata da Giuliano Ferrara, oggi unico canovaccio politico-informativo a disposizione del premier. È il tentativo manifesto di accantonare la questione politica per trasformarla in questione morale. Il trucco offre l'opportunità di mettere su un'artefatta baruffa contro l'"ipocrisia moralistica" che liquida ogni responsabilità e rifiuta ogni giudizio.

Lontano dalle sue responsabilità and protected from any proceedings, the Re Nudo can save more time. And the country? Fuck them, the country!

comes to mind Moliere, Tartuffe ou l'Imposteur. Giuliano Ferrara's sermon against the "Republic of Virtue (The Grand Guignol is staged in a theater in Milan today) and should, wants to be - except for his underwear - terribly serious but it only blows air so the show is a burlesque 'imposture. When you touch the issue from any angle, or if they have money or issue any reason, charlatanism surfaces everywhere, with some comic spark. Induces rice Berlusconi designed by Andrea Fortina with the features of Justinian. It is farcical read the interview published by the Il Foglio, Mr. Berlusconi speaks of Ferrara, Ferrara, which is, in pasticheur poses Cardinal Mazarin, and never Berlusconi, a predator with hypertrophic I. And comic self-representation of Berlusconi, downgraded to a ventriloquist of Ferrara (but for how long?), As a champion of "a system based on freedom, tolerance, awareness on a real public and private morality."

In Italy has amazing memory and paralysis, however, hear those words and formulas - freedom, tolerance, public awareness, private conscience - sharpen their teeth wolf the head of government makes me cold to the bone. As a tolerance, if you still remember today's orders to the prefects to take fingerprints for the children in Roma camps or drive out into the sea pregnant women, newborns and immigrants seeking political asylum. What freedom whether in libraries in the Northeast has a free rein blacklist of unwanted books and therefore prohibited.

Where were the liberals who now poses servile defend the right of women to prostitute themselves when the government asked for the jail clients of prostitutes. Where they had dozed off Lent, when the ministers brought torture to drive away the specter of terrorism or government leaders called for the homophobia and discrimination on a different skin, a different faith, another place of birth, not even within the confines national, but too far south. How those mouths may say "freedom, tolerance" have in mind when deciding on the law of the state of our life and our death, our medical care and how much pain we can bear. And by the way of life, which speak the Dionysian life "immutandati - nicciani hand - if at every turn, remind us that life is not the highest good for mortals because there is always something different at stake in life than having children, as well as the sustenance of the living, even the salvation of the soul in this life or the afterlife.

Under the syntactical Franco Cordero would say, the prose of "immutandati" is mash or gruel. " In the language of Bran, "hot air" in Piedmont "Supa". "It is an indigestible crap that is only valuable to show how transparency in the agreement that calls Berlusconi is only obedience.

Children obey adults agree, but what consenting adults should" but in his underwear alive? "Berlusconi did not propose their idea, a program, not even a dream.

offers only himself, his inadequacy, their own survival, their impunity. You can feel truly" live "in obedience to a head without a thought other than his own personal gain?

Puppy Birthday Sayings

Factory in my last novel

With Mario, close to retirement complicit in the one lavoro di imballaggio da svolgere in coppia. Non esiste, in fabbrica, tra tutta la varietà di mansioni, una peggiore di questa. Si tratta di pezzi da assemblare a caldo, non appena la scocca viene espulsa dallo stampo, cosa che accade ogni diciannove secondi. Se il pezzo madre si fredda, i pezzi complementari non s’incastrano più e va buttato via tutto. Il feeling nella coppia è indispensabile: uno degli operai recupera la scocca dalla buca, la pulisce dalle sbavature, ci applica i componenti; l’altro insacchetta l’oggetto compiuto, una pattumiera, ci mette il bollo della garanzia e l’adesivo con l’ISBN, ogni tre sacchi chiude una scatola e la ripone sul bancale di legno, ogni sedici scatole porta via il bancale and extends another, the dealer supplies of components, raw material of the caissons of the press pad color to the hopper.

We are working for seven hours in this vortex. It still lacks. We exchange data three times, once every two hours, so now would be to Mario, to the end of the round, breaking his hand and swear to fit those pieces before mom to cool.

is exhausted. It was off the gloves, it helps with pliers, sweats es'affanna to keep pace with the car, but do not take it anymore. He has experience on his side and some tricks earned on the field, he has against age, the lungs, forearms that are no longer those of the past, the fingers anesthetized who no longer know what they touch. Her eyes shining with anger and do not know what it is less offensive, yet propose a change or let us try to the last drop.

continue my spiel pretending not to notice his discomfort. There is an air weighs between us, friendship and hatred. Then Mario does everything by itself. I think that age knows how to teach, too. Lay down the tongs and stop the press, so that seems random, but is instead in the one useful step to avoid compromising the cycle. For forty seconds could be like this, to open jaws, fuming, with nothing is not damaged and no one noticing, not even studying the numbers at the end of production. They look at me, he and the press, and I do not know which of the two appears to be less depressing. I am about to take his place, beyond the bar of steel and wood inlaid with women and football challenges, political zero. Mario takes me by the wrist and tightens. His hands are still strong, rough sounding almost comforting.

"If you do not, ask the leaders," he says. "It is unfair that you sacrifice for me."

not tell him, if not shaking in my turn his wrist orangutan, with his left hand, to ensure that the right to free me and let me hang up the job. Extension in place, I press the red button that makes restart the dance. I put on my gloves.

(from Humanity , Elliot, 2010)

Knightsbridge Doll Collection

Florence

A friend of mine He told a dream he did: Piazza Duomo deserted without the cathedral or the church tower, nor the baptistery, but only a meager water in the middle, naked, without even the flush of cash. I wonder if it means something specific.

Gay Cruising Spots Ontario

Per Milo De Angelis

"and life reigns, alone, of course, alone, but not an orphan" is a verse in 1978 by Milo De Angelis. Life reigns priva di origine e di fine ultimo, e la condizione dell’uomo è quella di una solitudine senza giustificazione e senza compensi. Ma così facendo questa poesia allontana da sé un grande tema come quello dell’Assenza e sentimenti ad esso legati come la nostalgia o il rimpianto. Ma anche non permette che la vita si offra in quella catena incantevole delle rappresentazioni, di holderliniana memoria, che è la catena sintattica: l’esaltante continuità di affermazione del mondo, di noi stessi nel mondo.
Nei testi di De Angelis, le infrazioni avvengono nel rispetto della parola, unità di significazione come elemento irrinunciabile di una Norma linguistica entro cui l’uomo comunica, anche all’altezza della dimensione estetica, e vive, ed inoltre di una relazione congrua all’interno del sintagma e della frase. Ad esempio, la non concordanza della persona (la sequenza non finalizzata delle frasi poiché esse hanno soggetti diversi per cui il compiersi dell’azione sembra differito e spostato) o la non concordanza di tempo (l’uso si potrebbe dire arbitrario dei tempi in una stessa frase complessa) sono figure che creano perplessità circa una presunta oggettività del referente senza però accanirsi a negarlo (eventualmente con un’alterazione della continuità fonica e grafica o con un’eccessiva sconnessione sintattica). Esse provocano, nel momento in cui impediscono all’atto linguistico di compiersi with wholeness and uniqueness, instability of the plane of signification. And coming to the point, there is reflected the theme of solitude is not an orphan. The paratactic
procedure then serves to clarify this condition. In fact, the apparent juxtaposition of necessity and feature set of superfluity of our being in the world, takes place the 'exact feel of a brain / no more land. "
"Matter / was only the subject, nothing / it was only matter. Watch, not watch, poetry / cobalt, father, nothing, poplars. "Is written in the face of the Earth (1985).

from magazine "minimal deviation", November 1986

How Much Is Perals Worth

A cat in my first novel, Aftermath

Pruzzo was so called because of a player.

When I found him, living with Sonia was finished recently. It was Sunday, was in July, it was very hot. I turned the balls. I was visiting a friend in Chianti, I had vomited on him all my paranoia. He had lunch together and had been drinking good wine. Around four in the afternoon came on. I turned a bit 'with the car, I kept the music loud and the windows wide open. I could not find peace. I arrived at Castellina, and before entering the village I saw the signs for the Etruscan tombs. What the hell will never, I thought. I decided to go see. I parked, there was not a soul was sad and lonely, I was sweating to do shit.

The Etruscan tombs were dug underground rooms with little light but with a few degrees less than outside. I went on trial and error, I was disappointed and bored. Then I saw something move. A species of mouse, a prick with his legs, a tiny thing in the darkest corner of the last room. I went and put me Pruzzo eyes in the eye. It was as big as the palm of my hand, everything lighter brown with three stripes on his back. It was muddy, his mouth full of earth and a red eye, swollen, ill. He trembled, seemed half dead. But it was nice like the sun, small and pure, was life. I fell in love. My freedom was over the first three steps, in the penultimate room of the tomb of the cock. Raccattai Pruzzo, I arranged it between his thighs and drove up to the first floor bar. They called the vet in the country, a man in his sixties, a bit 'hunchback and completely bald. He boasted of being a magician with the goats and sheep, but his cows remained strong. I did not understand what he meant, however, was very kind. He opened the study and visited the cat. Found him a very high fever, he said that probably had pneumonia. Gave him an injection of glucose, the prescribed three drugs and therapy he explained. Then he gave me a box of powdered milk and a bottle.

«È nato da poco, avrà una settimana», mi disse. «Sarà difficile farlo campare. Così piccoli, senza la mamma, muoio­no. Se vuole provare a salvarlo deve dargli da mangiare ogni ora, giorno e notte».

«Lo farò».

«Non si illuda. È molto probabile che non ce la faccia».

Mi sentivo crepare. Ma quella bestiola non sarebbe morta, non così presto, non adesso che aveva incontrato me.

«Poi, è importante che il gatto mangi, ma deve anche defecare», said the vet.

"I suppose."

'alone is not able to do so. When very small mother cat licks the puppies on the backside .... "

"What does that mean?".

"You must take a cotton ball, wet it with hot water and stimulate the cat."

"How?".

"I'll rub on the tummy, and ass."

"Hog dog."

"Unless caca, explodes. There is no alternative. "

"I will" I said. I was sweating cold.

"It must also creargli a habitat similar to the mother cat. Put it in a kennel not too big, hairy with a rag wool. "

"Okay."

'Put even a hot water bottle, below. You must have a maternal warmth. The sign also drops. Give it to him three times a day, only patient in the eye. "

"Okay."

"It looks like a really bad infection, for me is blind."

sighed, catching my cat. I wondered what I had pushed in Etruscan tombs. I had not ever give a fuck about that stuff, and then you say destiny.

the Pruzzo marked my life. I did everything there was to be done, including things that I never told you. The nights, the bottles every hour, the hot water bottle, the drops the swab on the ass. Even enemas, those who take the children, because sometimes Pruzzo jams and cotton that did no good. I lived for him, there was no time and strength to do anything else. I told the world more ridiculous excuse for a cat to weaning. Meanwhile, lost weight and do not close my eyes without seeing his nose in front, his paws over his face.

One day two seemed Pruzzo were to die. I took him to the vet in Calenzano, a strange, more famous for hunting wild boar for his profession. Every time a shot was to my puppy and shook his head.

"I know who dies," he said.

Instead Pruzzo span. The better eye, and then came the homogenized milk, few hours of sleep, then the magical world of boxes and farting incredible stuff to evacuate the house, and then the awareness of the claws, the demolition of the chair and the curtains in the bathroom, his tongue everywhere, the stolen meat from the pot , the first races in the meadow, the first kittens to seduce and magical feeling of having done something great.

"Now die no more," said the veterinarian-hundredth the hunter shot.

I wanted to send him to fuck off. I knew all along that Pruzzo going to make it, because it was a special beast. With the style of the feline race, and the tendency to obesity Swine Breeding. Bello, my cat.

(from Women and mice , Fazi Editore, 2004)

After ten years in Rome, flag which was in season 1988-1989 Roberto Pruzzo spent a season with Fiorentina, picked up six more appearances to start playing some remnant of the race, in the playoff June 30, 1989, against Roma, at the cross Roberto Baggio , marked di testa il suo unico gol della stagione, che consentì ai viola l'accesso in Coppa UEFA.



What To Write In Sister's Wedding Card

Christmas in my first novel

Arrivai in centro verso le otto e misi la macchina nel parcheggio del mercato centrale. Uscii fuori, su via dell’Ariento, e Firenze mi sembrò cattiva. Una ragazza piangeva forte seduta sul marciapiede. Teneva la testa tra le ginocchia, affondava le dita nei capelli chiari. Un tipo camminava su e giù davanti a lei e scalciava una lattina. Il mercatino aveva già chiuso. Ai lati della strada restavano dei grossi carrelli di legno pieni di roba, coperti da teli verdi e incatenati. Passai davanti alla chiesa di San Lorenzo. Un piccolo camion della nettezza urbana spazzava i bordi della via. Faceva un gran baccano. Due uomini alti e grossi lo precedevano e colpivano i rifiuti con delle scope di saggina alte quanto loro. Sui gradini della chiesa un gruppo di africani cantava accompagnandosi con dei tamburi. Era l’unica nota viva nell’aria, l’unica che combatteva la spazzatrice. Il cielo continuava a mostrare i muscoli, senza far paura a nessuno. Forse a Pistoia avrebbe fatto due gocce. Misi le mani in tasca, il mio fiato fumava nel buio. Per aria c’erano ancora le illuminazioni del Natale. Erano spente, mosce, si godevano un filo di vento. Mi avvicinai some window and look at the prices of these shoes. I did not know whether to laugh or cry. I gave up and pulled straight.

The cathedral was very large and very powerful. It was half dirt and half clean, a piece of scaffolding packagers face an irregular network. There were a few tourists around, a few couples hugged, some homeless, three nuns, a couple of angry dogs. De slipped away 'Pecori and walked towards the pub. I walked calmly, there was peace, the windows of the houses were closed, light-television. Near Santa Maria Novella, a lady asked me if I wanted a little 'love. I looked at her. She was my mother's age, face marked by life, the trick to a different frequency, bare legs and swollen. I smiled. She also smiled at me, without shame, he closed his eyes and asked me a cigarette.

"I do not smoke, I'm sorry," I said.

"Blessed are you."

"It could stop herself, no?".

"Come over anytime, I'm always here."

We greeted each other with tenderness.

(From Women and mice , Fazi publisher, 2004)

What Happens When You Worm A Puppy

Tomorrow brings snow to Fahrenheit

With Alessandro Perissinotto my story (published for the first time in 2005 at Parma Noir - Writing yellow, Publisher MUP , this time thanks to Guido Conti) is now available online at E-Thriller [(...) Our free e-book can be read on a computer screen, flipping like a real book, or on devices portable (are optimized for iPhone, iPad, PDAs) to have them always at hand on the subway, train, in every little break. If the initiative Like you, talk to your friends, send around the link to our site and report it on social networking (...)].

As I wrote to Alexander, I believe very little in the e-books in general, but I sense them like a useful tool for short story. Okay, 'the speech would be long and complex, meanwhile, say that tomorrow brings snow is available here .