Friday, December 24, 2010

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ADELE 'Rolling In The Deep' (Studio Footage)

my best wishes ...

Who loves to sleep but wakes up in a good mood, who still greets with a kiss, who works hard and has more fun, to those who go fast car but does not sound at traffic lights, who arrives in delay but does not seek an apology to those who turn off the television to do 2 talk to anyone who is happy when you double-half, who gets up early to help a friend, who has the enthusiasm of a child and thoughts of man , who sees only black when it is dark, those who do not expect Christmas to be better.
Merry Christmas!

Monday, December 20, 2010

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such as dairy products we will be gone due

Maybe we'll go as dairy products due to expire on the last shelf of the refrigerator or in a magazine rather than any one of a hospital in the center. You'll come to see me in a Sunday lunch, dealing with traffic and all of the western ring washer. Let the mozzarella in the refrigerator, the slices of pork and meat spoils exposed on the board, pace of relatives coming from afar. You sprinkle the consciousness that what is required before take the department to think about death but to bump heels over a minute before entering the ward. Look at me and looked down, like the kites that do not make it right to take off when pulling calm.

This winter passes to pray, I'm sure.

Then will come the birth, your mother will wear the dress with turquoise beads and earrings last communion, your mother more and more nervous, the basket near the fireplace and nougat.

- Thanks, but did not have to ...

- But never mind ...

- I insist, should not.

- I insist, is included.

And then life is really a big bang at New Years, the cheapest way to get the saw, your mother who masturbates on pleasantries, your mother does not know what they mean tears when blacks beat the keys of the piano. Your mother always more nervous, Raffaele who is ill, and then there is the shrine to run.

I spent the afternoon playing at the church we were a bunch of mavericks with his nose cut on cement. The night dream, God knows how many dreams, each with its score and its knees by medicare. There was Cribari, left-back and then there was the Fountain Anagni Quiselli, center of breaking the youth. There was Braccini and Fratoni who were competing to see who was leading the strongest and Then there was the Mad Lucia, who taught us to swallow the biscuit in a hurry. Then there was me, in 18 years that I did not know Crosse and gore power to the grid.

weep now, lies in the pantry. Then in an instant ran away from home and has already arrived in the train station. We meet in the lobby and you see I'm still standing. Kiss and cry tears that are a little 'tickle, lick my beard that sucks all this reeling. What an effort to mimic the senses, interpret, God knows how I would hold you in the quest'androne Tiburtina, we finished by case basis and do not ask why things always go up in a toilet.

Maybe we'll go as dairy products due to expire, I wonder all the times that things run off the runway without asking permission. For example, even now that the potholes in the Portuense shy and I'm comfortable on the curbs of Trullo. I look at the people beside the highway and I think they will go where ever going. If there is a hallway of the house, a ravine where the fuck to fix, that space is a little 'me. If there is a place where you throw the little shit 'of disruption, that place is even mine.

While leaves the hall and move quickly towards the door, I stand to gain the days that we have been your delight. You do not know, but we are still in debt. I still have that piece of stuffed animals on the bottom of the pockets, I never ceased to touch it, I never stopped to see you reach the bottom of a road. Today your plush lose the hair that is a show, have it fly around the house is a privilege that I seldom given.

Heck, I still feel.

is no longer a game to see you fade away, are now big enough and I see things for what they are. Things have heartbeats and salt crystallized on the cheek. Listen to me, stop the mail of the heart and learn to move your ass. Find me, find the best of days and forget about the stove. Learn how to queue. The road will leave you step will be the special lanes, remove them coming from the side, beginners. Nothing will ever be the same, thoughts fit together properly and the festivities will have more to do with the file at toll stations. Then the road will do the rest on the hard shoulder will be the jesters to give you a morning, emergency lanes, only repulsed excavators in the world.

any day you open the fridge and you'll remember spending. Then you come for the big and be bold when the cashier t'incalzerà with membership card expiring. You'll be very little, with the old polemics about the details of maxisconto. Claim those 14 points that need to move to the bonus and you will return home victorious, finally, with the brats that made the husband and the shit that evaluates proud shots of retirement. Fantastic.

these parts is always an ordinary day, waiting on the platform of the six Intercity and the cold is so strong that I might laugh.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Heart Palpitations Tingling Fingers

Man

Tremor AFA
tarnishes its unique image,
a halo around the sprouts
(soft asphalt, the sky is clear
base and apex).
The crumpled linen jacket on his shoulders rests
proud,
and, ignoring the suffocating breath of August,
he repairs pride
by the chill of loneliness.
with one hand leaning on his lapel,
in a gesture that makes the tread
at a slower pace,
el'incedere murmured.
expresses, thus, an emphasis that the enormous human
listless row of machines,
and distracted eyes, surpassing with indifference,
baptizing the birth of an infinite distance.
A woman goes in the middle of that vision
with the mind's eye, and it
bribes. Note
and fatigue framed melodic purity
a sudden anxiety,
that, in a large ellipse, welcomes the man. At
watchful eye, just a fraction of a moment to recognize the perimeter
time
not infringe.

Franca

zoom

Monday, November 29, 2010

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CAROLINA MOVES, I feel for the first time

Sunday, November 21, 2010

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5 ° mese/18 weeks!!

Me and my Pizzocchero we entered the 5th ... and are already a Palletta!

In recent months I have made two echoes that emotion, especially the last.
It was moving, kicking and running in my Panzona!

Excited by the little heart pounding loud, sweet sound like the gallop of a little colt.

She moves but I still do not feel it. Every day my hand to caress, Waiting patiently for a signal every day, every day I think and I imagine his little face. Every day I think as we will be three of us inside our home Mirta + new ... who knows ... three of us our

Pizzocherina not have a name yet undecided between White and Carolina

Saturday, October 23, 2010

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foil

course, as blame her, like throwing down the phone right now is lacking in so little done so bourgeois that approval of arrivals and fulfillment logged. The social status above all, the projection of the eye so determined gait, tone, the recitation, the frappe a carnival and all the rest of your blablabla.

Why has this way of seeing things that I recorded my dreams , she says. Goldfish them to you at the bottom of the bed every night that your world is crying. But at this point we can not do anything, neither you nor I nor this ridiculous world that travels sideways.

The fault is yours you know how to kill good . It was only 20 cm in order to conquer your lap, only a sketch and I would have won the goal.

Monday, October 4, 2010

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field beside a hundred years, the crises of adolescence and get the right medicine for the good old age. I would raise you as much dust on the side, and so until the undertaker has not sealed the shutters. Believe me, life is so long that all the words of this world just enough to plug the mouth. And then vomits everything, now vomits, vomits on him.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

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1, 7 th ECO

BAG WITH MANAGEMENT IN UTERO EMBRYO WITH A SINGLE 14mm
cardiac activity.

indescribable happiness

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

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What If You Do not tell me you will never

's over. The clumsy life is over. Please play well on the screen supersonic with a cigarette resting on the piano, so it's over. I was thinking just yesterday while I was upstairs and looked at the steps that seemed to never finish. It 's over, really. 35 years are a thing not to be believed, 35 years running the strongest of my desires and I can not do anything. Now when I put the key in the door on the other side there is a cat who can not wait to make love and a little further on there is another that I lick your shoes. Dress up a tower of 45 square feet when it rains and I piss on the world. When I pull out I seem to touch the Subasio because it is from this height I measure my balls.

's over, billions of years and say the magic word. But this time I seriously, I swear. E 'finished the pilgrimage of clichés, dysplasia of the conformists and the flea market: this time the bills do not make me thinking, this time I leave my wife because dancing is so beautiful when it looks like Patty Smith. Then he runs to me and kisses all makes a lot of noise when in motion affection, kissing me all over like a mother kisses her on the 1st month of pregnancy. A mother and her son was born the son am I doing a lot of purring.

This time it's over, really.

Stopped on the pier I looked at the horizon to come. There was a lot of noise and the boats that took off for good fishing. At the fish market I found the chills good point, I heard them digging and hiding a tear in the jacket. Bisceglie on the pier there was a lot of people who had to put her hand into the net, watching them sink, hide. And then deeper into the moving boxes to get us on just a piece of dust. Resting on the pier at least I've got a bit of life left to breathe.

you you you you ...

Sunday, September 5, 2010

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WEEKS WITH A SMILE IN THE HEART ...

... IO FUTURE MOTHER ...
U.S., prospective parents

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

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you that such is life

E 'later, the painters are coming entrepreneurs and ENEL have already said they will spend a day to count the clicks. New tenants eager press on number 24, while the City Council yesterday unveiled the new plan set-up road. Running down the steps of Via della Luna all the way on the wall of red brick, the same slab of clay where hot breath after the trek to the center, remember? I stop in front of the door, I take breath, step back. I look around me like a thief, gain time. I'm afraid that someone recognizes me, I'm afraid that someone is telling me that it is not yet time, that I throw some mason trowel in hand and show me the crack. I fear the restoration of the feelings of caked cement mixer that swallows every bit of life that now smells of old. I'm just afraid of looking at things and see them crumble to pieces.

It 's late, but I still have two keys in his pockets. Keys light metal, made twelve years before the mill hardware in the house quell'afosa summer of '97. Thou hast already delivered, probably wound up with a formal handshake, beaten with suspicion on the table of our eager renters. Perhaps already falter in the pockets of some other tenant or perhaps have remained stuck on the surgery table, crushed beneath the worn-out cards of the match. Already I see myself in the hands of new tenants in the creaking lock slip, refuse to tuck jam. All this concern should I throw it in the municipal sewer and let it settle together with the shit, I think, but they are still here that had to happen sooner or later, so that's life and that we must learn to turn a lot of doors before you understand the game.

Yet I have taught since childhood that need to be careful black man, the man who never says a word and find that if you are in the best of days means that you're really screwed seriously . Although I was never encouraged, though over time I learned not to think too much, I often think about death: I do it in secret, away from everyone and with the discretion of the cat. I quickly learned to slip between the things, I do it so well that when I always get a lot of dust.

Yet this afternoon of June does not look like an end, there is the dark room and there are not even the clouds that make the mood swollen, but there is a generous sun that does not claim nor the 'ambition to get warm again. Again it was many years ago when I spent in the sun all afternoon and fell in love on the grass of the Temple there in a hurry.

You left the degree of red tape still attached to the door and aftershave placed on the shelf in the bathroom. You left a little 'dust on the bedside table and traces of your passage in the pantry, I've got a finger over the past em'è stuck the dirty last week. And what of the Neapolitan deck of cards resting on the marble fireplace, as an effort to strike back I spent every night to pass the load with the wink of the player used up, we were not even stripped of the Grand Bar at the tables of all those past weekend to count the points, I am reminded that in and out of the final bars of Saint Anne, you were in his hands a club in Naples, and his eyes staring like those of Mr. Quindicipalle. We were playing tressette accomplices, spies a hand scopone, companions in a quickie at Trump. You never gave up a pinch, you've never been able to do: leave the game, leave the table. Were the accounting my better days.

My measurements are 12x12, twelve years of forced cohabitation in a room of twelve square feet of space. My life is still there, clinging to the nails on all four walls of drilled radioactive. Crumbling walls, with pictures and colorful pins that still govern the years by a miracle.

this is not an end, not like at all. E 'rather than one of those days where the trade front of the mirror with soap detergent, which engages the cap of the toothpaste well into the nozzle of the sink, where you do not have the slightest idea of \u200b\u200bhow you parked your car at night before or where you left your cigarettes, lighters, sunglasses or keys. 'S one of those days where you walk in the center without regard to month-end deadlines, one of those days where you'd like to smile without the need of having to prove something by force. I have to sbaraccare home and I do not know how. A normal day in short, a day that you walk on the side and that makes you just tickled.

You left the umbrella to close the door and thought he could not forget him too. I brought it home I looked the

Quixote return by windmills, clasps him tightly under the arm and you know, people looked at me so strange that I had to cut to the smaller streets, dodging looks, move on. Was it because of the sun, or will have been because people look with suspicion anything that does not like her, for everything that life does not push us too often the accounts to blows. The fact is that I fight with an asshole that he laughed a short walk from the escalator, a broken nose and split the knuckle of the little finger, that's all. I believe that people are not used to keep them close, things. I picked up the umbrella and take a ride on the subway. Step further, here.

You left in the pots to crack belief, corks and uncorked bottles of vinegar to get near the stove. And all this corked disorder, new year in advance or last day of school. And that tells us that we were too well that we had no soap to spread to the house: if the new tenants will have better products, which we teach them the technique. And we also dock your ass.

I think you were wrong to remove the counter and score the shots, I consulted and the bill does not add up right. A bit 'of ash on the windowsill of the kitchen and already I seem to see that you smoke the way down your last cigarette, breathing in the lungs strong and close down to the alveoli to block the veins. Two minutes, two minutes before saying goodbye to those twelve years of life condensed. Just two

fitted first.

Dumb is useless to look around with those bright eyes of a cat, look what I had to leave, I had to, you know? So do not get to whine at the door that there was not yet time now Cinastik and that is not the same without my pints of red resting on the counter, OK? Because if you look around you see you that without us things are still stuck on the wall. Not even love is free from certain shortcomings, let alone us. You know, sometimes I've got thinking, I thought about how hard it is keep it close, the dust: when you move the things you always suspect to find something better than a wad of hair. But this we are, and then passes through the rag content to at least have the relief of pulling off the dirt.

E 'so that things go, simply change their residence, house number, sometimes master. And if thou hast thought in all this time, well, then they are your own business. I can not do anything because such is life, because such is life, because such is life ...

I hate you, and weep and laugh like a fool, I love you. The world out there smiling because the world always wins. Here in the world does not fit in here are like horses who do not know when it never finished the race. And if the horse won. Or maybe if they lost. Forever.

At least tell me where the ransom money, unemployment benefits, that piece of watermark s'incassa at the end of games. Where is the wound? When things end there is always a white wall on which to throw up what little 'insolvency, can not understand. And I wonder where did I go wrong, what was the date and time that I did not understand, the moment of history where I was a loser.

around the house and I lean on the table, if I hunt I can only suck in more dust Intercity. Yet there must be somewhere a sock a dirty clothes, smelling something. There must be a piece of life from somewhere, and everywhere there was much less now that you're away. So I run, I run along the perimeter of 50 square meters of tile gray, I run rummaging in every corner of space, I run the glare of the steps that smashed in the head as if they were toothpicks. I am looking for an excuse to my solitude, perhaps a prison.

close the door behind me, cast a last glance up the stairs to the third-floor speckled marble em'incammino, downhill. They are outside, sunlight burning eyes and dig the black shutters. The light is now so strong that I can not even count steps. But give me just a moment of time and see, I climb the first train in less than four hours have been for you. I run and I embrace you as I've ever done, I'm telling you all this distance in the end does not make that all the silence that remains. You will see that nothing has changed, because things change so mica overnight. Then tell me you are too emotional and try again to drive the tears from his eyes. And try to convince me that it is always necessary to get lost. That this is life and that despite the years has always needed to hear the train whistle. But please do not do like everyone else's life so that

Do not tell me that it never goes.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

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Ayrton

ninety-four The first of May I was nineteen years old and a girl who can run all weekend. On May ninety-four of life I could not understand why certain things run off the runway and we must not think too much when things are running stronger than you. If running stronger there must be a reason and nineteen years there is still a good reason to think fermarcisi.

May ninety-four The first was a great silence and my mother hugged me on the station platform. I am on that day, the eyes do not watched them because they were crying loud cries and a mother who is strong anything other than what is said. There was a silence because life only when one discovers the news broadcast, and then you take that cuddly when you're small you can not understand why all the silence of the world exists only in the perimeter of the bed of a child who dreams . Then the silence grows and eventually combines all the beds in the world, homes, families, situations, because the pain of the world is the strongest glue. Then on May 1 of ninety-four enough lean out the window of the Fiesta 1.2 to hear from the terraces the special edition of Tg1.

at 14:17 to Sunday, May 1, 1994, the Williams of Ayrton hits the concrete wall outside the Tamburello curve at a speed of 200 km / h. In the violent collision on the right side of the car is destroyed, the two wheels, wings, suspension and triangles, flying through the air like bullets bouncing off while the car slowly to the edge of the track.

Mom says it's not over yet, mom says quickly prepare a hot bath and throw you in dressed. It also says that the race will never be the same if it is true that the sample is missing

. I ask her what she was like a champion and that is something that you live your life better. I ask why things end up, and she says things never end if there is someone that if he dreams. I tell my mom if dreaming is a little 'how to grow up fast and she told me to never put your feet out of bed. Then he threw back my hair and wipes her cheeks and it is another thing that you said, the joy.

Williams exhausts its energy crawling and snug in the range of grass to a stop a few meters from the road. The helicopter resumed the merciless scene, the yellow helmet of Ayrton is tilted to the right, still, under the morning sun burns the asphalt. Then, twice, the pilot has a reflex and moves as if to straighten, but it is only a flash that lasts a very short, the first service men reached the car and realize the situation: the pilot is unconscious, the helmet is literally drenched in blood. Ayrton is extracted from the car and lying on the cement side, his heart is still beating when the doctors make a tracheotomy to leave the airways beneath him, lying on the concrete of the new Tamburello, expands a red unequivocal.

smell of spring, the smell of magnolia in waiting until the last car at the bottom of the third class. Smell of fresh, everywhere. I had just made love, I smelled his life and had wet her pants and his fly still open on pants. I could not understand all that silence, I was not done for the world and the world was a red matryoshka from drool to the bone. I was not the man who did the work, family, history. For me, life was the Indianapolis Motor Speedway without the Tamburello curve and the curves were words that if the mistakes can always use the whitebait.

The helicopter lands on the straight of the medical service of the Tambourine, Ayrton Imola circuit is transferred from a hospital in Bologna. Hope of the world while the sample is' repeatedly in cardiac arrest. Physicians are able to maintain activity in the heart until the patient in room 214 of the hospital Maggiore, but it is useless. The first bulletin issued is final, the pilot's brain scan is completely flat, only the machines have his heart in business. At 18:40 Ayrton was officially declared dead.

Mom, tell me again why things stop the run, ripetimelo until dawn and then again until things do not pass the tambourine and will already be too far away. How does it work when you lose or win, if appropriate for celebration or maybe a matter of running aground and spends his life in pain at all. What do I do with my load of dreams, I can still exchange them at the Market Street of Charmed or be already empty as clay pots? Maybe things are in a hurry to go to beat or maybe it's the road that is full of twists, I can not tell you, Mom, I wonder every night at that perimeter of bed but I'm still here that I train to tighten without the taste of catch them. Why do things run off the runway to you now that even in a hurry to turn off the light. At least tell me if you find it under your pillow or if today is already a bit less that he shakes my hand. And if you tell me some lies see that sooner or later understand that a champion closes his eyes and let go of things even when you cry. Why do things never end if there is someone that if he dreams.

- Mother what a champion?

- It 's something that you live your life better.

Sleep now it's late.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

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not a vacuum cleaner cares of life just beyond

rarely use the vacuum cleaner, I use it sparingly because I've got less time to hunt the moths between the corners of the bed. I have to admit that they have spent the last few days in a pigsty of frequent and poorly ventilated, dust on the bedside table, the dust that follows me like an asshole dry on the glossy shell of the process. The new powder on the full early in the morning then it's something that you do not tell. One day I wake up sweating and I can feel him itching all over, I try to take a shower but that did not work at all. Then I browse the phone book and start to eliminate unnecessary contacts, I'm fifteen minutes and thirty-eight on Marco M on F Francesca. Shortly after that traffic already on the stairs with the lives of others, and the lives of others is something that shine back and forth the trumpet of the condominium.

Hello, I am. Hi, I say.

"How are you? Go as a lorry parked on the Salerno-Reggio Calabria, I say. Passed away.

thought he wanted to leave the road, the thought is still lucid when he faces the last ramp and out of hunting. The light is m'abbaia this day the lighthouse down the road, the light are the dogs peeing on lamp posts and a photographic plate that impress me in the world. A spider escapes and goes fast, the optic nerve, says that two months since he left the house. Then I met the old ladies who greet me and expect the visit to the doctor. They say the health system is not working and not working because there is too much to wait. I like listening to old ladies when they go through the alleys, people, things. The rumor is that push the worm on the environment, the crop tense waiting for the meal. And now the meal is the mayor who seems not to change the party, even dust and issues around on furniture. The eyes do not stop the run and show me a better way of staying in the world know they're not alone.

With old I get out of the studio and we start running into the street. They look like artifacts of ivory in a cross-country, gingerbread ornaments of the book Heart. Not care about them all year and finish first in the pharmacy. Here I have a second block because of pharmacies in general causing me the hiccups of the amateur, sterile and aseptic as the butt of a baby covered with Amuchina ®. I order a bottle of Moment and this time I manage with little, just a headache last night, that's all. I come home and face the stairs to the top plan. The lives of others is still there on the stairs, and perhaps wonder how that went.

want to go ... And as I was cleaning the stairs, I did not move here. Then, with a cough, pulling me inside.

Poggio Moment on the table and turn on the vacuum cleaner, and I sit down on the couch, let him go for hours. I like hearing the noise of life cover.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

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There are many ways to make love, if I do it from behind you feel stronger. From behind I do not feel the pressure of your eyes me away, from behind the world's easiest if I do not see it. Want to try it, you're good and well you do with little, you just move your pelvis to feel the itch. There are many ways to feel important, including ways to handle things the best is to come

them. I land on your belly and it is only unconscious for a moment that flies between the walls of your room, but it is also a moment that I turn sweaty - a moment later - on the comfortable side of the bed. Feet flapping wings of a butterfly because the strong are now on the ground. There are many ways to fall asleep on his chest, the best is sticking its head in the hollow of the scapula.

- Did you like?

- Yes I liked it ...

- What do you think?

- See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow we wake up with the first sound of the train and you're already standing aspects of the job. I prepare the coffee and bring it to me in bed early in the morning then I find it hard to accept things. The way you see me is something that puzzles me - god what I would - rather a way of thinking about love and easy to hear. The attention that I am a Serb past that I turn around again and again in bed, perhaps a cliché, I can not say. Kiss me and I feel all the flavor of the night before, and if you tuck me in my back like a regurgitation of your sweaty mood. Between night and good morning there are many ways of seeing things, a different world to cross the strips, the rent, the bills, people, traffic, traffic lights, shopping. I'll be back from work and I will line up at the counter, buy two bottles and go back to bed. Until the end of the day.

- What do you think?

- Nothing.

Nothing is concrete ceiling that vomits on the eyes. Nothing is the error that awaits us just beyond. Nothing are the snacks of my childhood and I had so many eyes on him to play with. Nothing to see them move, marry, grow old, fade away. Nothing is the hair of my mother as they run on sugar paper floats in the carnival, its cartilage, skin that is pulled into fights with his eyes heavenly. Nothing Panini stickers are exchanged for robbery under the desk, soccer matches, the huge hands of the master Felli. Nothing is the day that I left the house, nothing on the day of my degree, no doctorate thesis and every morning I felt that quicker and faster than others. No your eyes are green and I expect you already know that sooner or later return.

There are many ways to go home: one of them is slipping into a bed.

- That's nice ...

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

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there are many ways the festival is about to begin

Back and forth to try to bind the chemical reaction in some thoughts that bring me the brain as far as possible. Here I have the world does not look like my nephew, who still clings to four years ago at the neck and the swing when it's time for leave. Here the world comes to me all of a sudden in the morning and kills you with his bad breath. I tell him I'll be back soon, just a moment to fill the cat bowl and a second, pulled up to a whole village of Santa Perugia Livia number 101. 240 km of a road that I learn to learn in a hurry. He shrugs, raises the labbrino Ben10 and starts crying. So you know that I'll be back, as my uncle is better than all Ben10 of the night, he thinks.

And then alone, on the Rome - Civitavecchia statale91. There's even an angle of light to be entrusted with the distraction of my gray eyes, the sky is an opaque mass and its contours are miles beyond the glow of the march that rearview mirror. The room of the driver's seat in the colors of pale purple film, is about to enter the summer and I do not see that the mud beside the highway. On the horizon, neutral colors, the blue enamel of the body is just rust in the past. Are 19.45 and I won the overpass that is grafted on the main road E45 towards Cesena. I light a cigarette and pretended to do nothing. Rain for a month, the dynamics of the windshield wipers boring, overtaking a lorry weblog Brescia.

Inside my room sounds

leave the bourbon on the shelf in my room there is salt water dripping vertically. So I try to lick it all, but I realize that only Spider-Man can climb buildings and climb mountains. And then I think of my nephew and four years is not afraid to challenge the witch which has the dry, he who at every blow of the defeat life always. Him that his uncle which has the world's strongest, he thinks.

Soon will be my birthday and I have not decided who to invite to the party. As every year there will be the clown with the yellow nose and flappers with garters and all that. I was thinking today I stared at her breasts while the cashier that if she had low-cut purpose.

- what do you look? - Calls for forty evident in marital crisis.

- Yes, I like your boobs.

S'impaccia the envelopes, the rest did not return.

- Get a saw.

- Sure.

And that's it. Come to my house, the party is about to begin.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

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pain is a latch in wrought iron

Today a friend called me with the excuse of the weekend and which has the cock slipped across the mine. He wanted to know, friend, wanted to tear my mouth pain that I have never found the courage to share. Because pain is a business too long to tell, you never know from where he started and what is worse, you never know where it going to end. If the pain does not concern you, all this property only becomes a good protocol to spread over the conscience, if you tell, the pain, there is nobody to make us really good objection. And I do not like things that are not opposition.

For example we talk of death and say well that was expected and planned for some time. But the people - the friend - you seem to stretch out their hands and say that miracles are for real even if we never noticed. It is not just a pile of shit, they work fine as well as homeopathic cures. The friend did not realize it but it's really pathetic with all its references anodyne rhetoric from the counter of fresh fish. Give yourself a beautiful setting, because life does not have to teach me and I did not have to teach

now. Life is a ball of cells that multiply and when they want to finish it there will not even send the letter. I would like to say to my friend who has been over for quite a while and have just spent fifteen minutes of platitudes. Rather than throw the phone down that life for you is out there and some things are bigger than your thoughts with fish, that's what I say to my friend and the fucking world morbid and comfortable. But I only say that it is a cap to the biliary tract, an operation that it becomes nothing.

The pain of others is taken for granted, never makes too much noise. The pain of others overflows the most abject of mankind, serves as a doormat to his conscience. Because pity is a disgusting, an alms of all five senses combined. God, what torment the good people, those with adverbs protocols, pats on the back and all the disgust of their infection. The need to know that there are always those who are made worse, the need for a comparison. E 'futile to continue to knock on, the pain is a latch in wrought iron that can not be ruined. Rather, it is sufficient to continue to water the garden for a total understanding.

Post Scriptum
Then came last, quivering with adrenaline and saliva dripped from his mouth. They arrived with their sweaty hands and their stranglehold. All arrived, on time, with their sticky kisses and their faces so unable to simulate a pain in any case did not concern them. Clock in and ran away like rats in search of a sewer.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Flucloxacillin And Impetigo

madness will come to surprise naked

The telephone keeps ringing, mixed with the rubble of the masons. Sink deeper into his head and tightened around the temples against the edges of the pillow soaked with sweat. The masons are called for a lunch break, spring ice axes and chisels, and are approaching the foreman of the yellow container. The ringtone sounds louder, bouncing like a ping-pong table along the dark walls of the bedroom and you can not escape because the day has already found you. But it is not the telephone, is the bell that has tone of the phone, and then think of the hostess and the expiry of the lease at the end of the month. Open the door, but do not like her at all.

I was not scared, nor surprised. I knew it was you, I imagined it so intensely that I had traveled to his side the whole road from Mary's house to number 24 of Via della Luna. I even felt the pressure of the finger on the doorbell of the house just before the trill. I had even hoped for, I only expected what was inevitable. We remain as two strangers who do not know the words for the occasion and left her there, the door of the door. I walked slowly towards the room and leaving me on the bed, pretending nothing: my cock.

Not a word.

The chiaroscuro of the bedroom takes care of its forms, leaves the finished, molded, clearly draws the contours of his chest and casts the show on the walls of his shadow puppets. E 'in those boundaries that now I find my limits, beyond there are only covered by a tightening bites too many nights in the filtered light of memories.

The study, in the twilight of the room. There is no innocence in his eyes: on the contrary, a shadow of perversion that holds tension in my body and amplifies the senses irrationally. Pull your upper body far back and put his elbows on the table of the desk, the line of breasts under her dress and quickly sketches a little farther on, a little more gray in the plot of acetate, the tip of the nipples slightly expands the silk seems to take game for his safety. I want to, its stillness leaves no room for any alternative and does not permit the escape routes. I must be his, now, now.

me, I am there, in the reassuring warmth of my bed, back against the wall. And with every beat of passing time on the hands of a clock wrought iron hanging somewhere in the house, I feel the urge moods such as electrical cables in the lower abdomen. The air is filled with acrid smell the same smell that just before I left on the sill of that apartment on the top floor.

breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the bedside table in search of the package

Fortuna. While fumbles in order to find a lighter buried somewhere under a pile of books, beer cans, boxes of anxiety and empty packets of cigarettes, I remember the pack of condoms hidden in the bottom of the second drawer. The package is finished with 6 for quite a while, the last condom have rejected a month earlier to simulate having sex with a cashier who had sent me hard.

- Do not turn the ...

- Why?

- Why has nothing to do now.

I file away the cigarette and she leans over her lips without pressing too much. Then slightly open and a strip of moisture that moves right and left wedged in the corners of the mouth. Comes out and goes down to the neck, back fast to the cheekbones and then stops the eye: we are reflected for a moment and then I kissed him, my world. Her kisses come and go and whisper to each strong thrust, moisten the ear cavity and only stop for lack of space. I try to participate by sliding the hand, but she stops me.

- Still, do not move ... - I said, reset near the back.

Falling further down, I unbuttoned his shirt towards the insertion of his trousers. There is not even an inch to be discovered, so she keeps because she wants to leave a vacuum behind it: that you take only the crumbs, the sluts.

We fucked like a cat, purring and humor mixed with saliva. Held the land after the needs, hidden the other the little 'intimacy.

- Wait ...

- What?

- Take off your shoes.

Here we discovered the heart tissue, disinfect the wound with sterile gauze to our emergency room. The hands do not let go, his hands were glued to the resin and the resin was sweaty skin. The smell of sex to break down under the covers and blankets was the regular demands of every pleasure.

- You can plan ... so ... Now you feel.

Sometimes cold. Cold feet uncovered, cold meat on each piece of carelessly slipped past the end of the blankets.

And then my lips on her breasts and her lips on my chest, long legs, those long strips of finite territory to conquer fatigue. Waterloo, or rather the Alamo, we have not given a reprieve. I expected the offensive to defend barricaded, found an opening on the left side and slid quickly along the coast of his back.

I have taken from behind like a coward.

Then leave the smooth muscle, moods limited by the lattice, the rest of the senses drugged as it was the end. We stayed on the bed and I seemed to see the precipice. And we remained silent as the fish in deep cover. And we

surrendered, just in time.

remain motionless, fixed tile rough in the bedroom. Horizontal stripes filter from insulated steel shutters. I drop the eyelids on the pillow and am looking forward to the end. The madness will come, sooner or later, to surprise us naked.

- Hold ...

Friday, May 7, 2010

Movies Espanol Gratis

abstract of a story (Rosanna's not you) on this stupid

Today you showed me the ring with a golden circle. You did it on purpose, and you were also quite sincere when you said: "I am happy to see you again." Then you put his left hand on the bar and broke it held tense, as if to underline the status of bitterness. I ignore it, some things do not affect me since high school and I stopped for quite a while with the competition. I lock myself in defense and limited the damage of your ambush is your revenge and grant you the pleasure. They say it starts

dall'anulare left a vein that goes straight to the heart. The belief dates back to the Romans, who were convinced that in this vein flowed feelings. Not having the gold available to the left ring wrapped with iron, so that the groom, forever, could secure the loyalty of his wife.
What is, what is served, what I will need it tomorrow act of faith. Maybe it will help me to play better cards, and to defend the missile defense system to intercept nuclear missiles. I look and I think about it, there must be a port, a toilet, a remote place outside or inside the mind of the world where a gorge spit forever. Yet there is nothing that resembles those pieces of dough soaked in acid and red wine, there is a fragment of earth or lumps of powder to blow it right.
No, there's nothing left of us. Not even the taste of

pick up the pieces.

But instead there is everything. There is a thought that is in the basin of dirty laundry or rather in the coffee every morning during rush hour. There is a thought every time I look around and I am only the fourth case of the supermarket.
At school the teachers taught us love, but we did better in the after-school care. There was close to traffic and not touching the day that he flew away like soap bubbles. The tears were a liquid that looked his way out, and tears were a boat that always tinkered its port.
And this is the 'abstract
of this story, odd sock in the basket of dirty laundry. The rest fades into the centrifuge and diligent begs forgiveness.

3 Dongle Internet Hack

Too much security remains to be happy.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

What Does Polypoid Mean

Windows 7 x64 does not find Any LAN Controller ...

First try to update your lan driver.
If you get this message when installing lan driver:

"The Realtek Network Controller was not found.
If Deep Sleep Mode is enabled Please Plug the Cable."

you probably need to update your BIOS.

I solved this problem on my HP DV6 2135sl notebook with Windows 7 x64.
Drivers:
http://h10025.www1.hp.com/ewfrf/wc/softwareList?os=4063&lc=it&dlc=it&cc=it&lang=it&product=4106866#

Saturday, May 1, 2010

I Need My Balls Waxed

April's bench the bench

I wonder if the fever is gone, things like that. Make a smile which did not I expect, and that applies as gum carved cheekbones. I look down because I do not deserve this way you just stand in the world, this hint of life purely formal, rhetorical. But you m'incalzi again as if I were sick, the person begging speculate that the little 'time that remains.

Rather we are talking about us, how we met. Tell me the best moment, tell Sally, still humming and I do not remember already over. How to explain your departure, how to explain it to me and then all those who will not be when you have more time. How to prepare for that trill telephone, answer that yes, I had understood, but I was there I have not been able to stop, that little piece of the world.
I have blurred vision, a lot 'of alcohol that seems to have also had its effect, and a blister pack of antibiotics to manage the bottom of the stomach. You are here in less than ten inches from my hands, and I can not find the strength to stretch a little finger. The future stops, the past is laughing, expectations lie dying on a hospital bed that seems brighter than the others. But it's just the sun that beats the other hand, are my eyes do not stop to fix the hollow anodized window of room 14, I just did not want to understand anything of this absurd world of dealing with things and see it every time fade away, die of starvation.
Now the music is really cool, I have it in your ears because you're whistling now, and I wish I could scan every word because to repeat it in the din of relatives lost all that rhetoric that I need so much. I give myself another round below, just another ride to the bar to refresh the courage and shuffling the cards. I'll leave for another ten minutes, I know that I've never done that since it happened I feel like a boat in which they denied the deep, but when I do I feel a little 'better. Maybe that's how it works, maybe you see things better when you drink above. People come and go in the compartment 14 and the I numeretto I do not feel right. Not with you. Not today.
go down the stairs to the ground floor and it makes me fear that you forgot something back, breakfast in bed, crumbs on the groin or maybe everything else, I know. Why is breakfast in bed to do with the love that you do not tell, and why is it that all too often I let go, things: early in the morning most of the time, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. In his underwear.
sip my story, he savored the taste, I spend on the tongue and between teeth, I look down quickly down the stairs, turn around and then throw in a moment swallowed up by the road traffic. Forever. It 's so that should be mine, of things.
I only stop for a moment to cigarettes, two bars with the bartender, a few words on the final of Champions, a few words thrown on the counter as if they were pennies tip. And then the lemon vodka that burns in the esophagus and suddenly all the past that emerges as transparent as crystal clear of empty glass. But it is only a quick, naive, little cough.
So I run, I run stronger than the blocks of ZTL, I run stronger than all my insecurity. I look at all the corners of the outputs of the E45 slide off like they were bowling, I look at life like a mosquito stuck on the rearview mirror of my Clio 1.2 Metallic as the sky. And who cares if tonight I use the horn as a machete by scholars of the road, tonight I lose too much and I enjoy life reeling across the roadway, at least that.
parking downtown, I no parking on the broad shoulders. I look good from the white overalls of municipal, tonight I just want to play and put in czech fly away from the world. When I was young the world was all darkness of a hiding place and there was no need because he was trying to strut the world we thought. Even when there was nobody on the street and the street looked like a slow flowing liquid cement barges gray of the bypass, was the world and their bags of garbage that we were find. And blacks cats and moths from pasture to feast on. And when the world you are all finished with a count to ten, and at that point was I was doing the world and everything else that was always too far away to hide. Now there are more world and are not anymore, I just fear that before long I'll come to flush out and that I was impotent, inept, stupid on this bench in April.
await your appearance, the incisors rugano the fingertips, the fear that you know send me patiently. Learn about the code of my insecurity, you know how to stop the game. I
the stairs two at a time, I look at my face reflected on the plans of the department opaque. The sunset is beautiful, the rays pierce the windows and slap on the white tiles of blue polyclinic. Tonight I stopped wearing the best clothes and the mood of fresh laundry. The night I smiled, the lights brighten up the ward my feet, the women reciprocate trusting my eyes.
- See you in the center front of the arch.
- Ok. Front of the arch, tomorrow.
's so that we met, I remember now.

From that we make it with strawberries and shivering with that if they fly away. Insanity is a plane that staggers the takeoff, and living has never been more simple if you were not there.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

What Can You Substitute For Egg In Salmon Patty

Forlanini is alone against

And then one day before the fair for fried clams with pasta good, comes the call that says that things have taken a direction that you never see. The direction that you never see is a voice of the phone that has the bass and hoarseness of bad news. E 'slow, incompetent, sweaty, has a mass of 2 cm radio opaque median axis of the bile and so much more breath to spare. This is it, the sauce on the stove and proceed regardless there is no need to add more. This is the life that moves sideways, filthy, untouchable, crystalline, or rather than within, independent of cellular logic. In any case better than the other, the bourgeois of profits and fees unpaid later this month. Do not tell me that life is more encouraging than the skin from within, do not tell me that there is life outside

. Life is not something you explain it with the tales that they know they rip off the first meeting. I have to push with Subbuteo, dream and sink on the wing like a champion. Because life is pushing and pushing and hard-won illusion that bastard to make it.

Just a second, down only briefly for a coffee, I promise to return. I can not let a second that you start crying and have never stopped to tighten the hand. What do you care? What are you afraid? Look back, look to be around 6 minutes, time to go downstairs and banging your head against the machine input. The time it takes the nurse to do the drawing of the marker and remove the needle cannula from the arm. Life is too, stand the fuck out in good time, get out of bed 14 of the department of gastroenterology and up against her breasts bursting out of the nurse.

- all right?

No, nothing has ever been so far from being as good as today. The chute-side with a smile, she purrs. And then I cry, I cry god knows how much resting on the bench cement Forlanini. And do not you think that having the fatigue of the stairs, still having to reach. Ah, if I still bmx and my alfalfa meadows! With those I could heal you, it was long ago and there were no deadlines. When it was night there we got home and the darkness was a train that never goes away.

you hear me?

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Automatic Car Starter Syracuse

April when I was a kid the teacher always said I was born free

Today we met in a downtown bar and had a life and a half that we did: sit at the same table and order a sandwich and a sandwich. I sat on the side facing the street, you know that I like and sometimes have to leave to browse among the world go by. Thou forsaken me this way I've always forgiven him and that is why I like so much when you talk and talk and then I look like a crystal furnishings always in balance in your day. Every time I fall I do a lot of noise and you're the one who manages to get back together, find the pieces and sift in the dust. Paste.

ask me why I left the network and I look out the world go by. Yet you see yourself that there's no way to make sense of anything, each of which has the people his life and it ends up that with all these lives if they do not put together a never alone. It 'hard to explain certain things, words can not hardly ever get to your destination and for now we must be content with a hunch.
When I was a kid the teacher always told my mother that I was born free.

It is like we can just stay in the world, including headaches and engages people. More often in the destruction, in the gratification of a startup that offers the most interesting job opportunities. I've never understood this, and you'll never find my words just to remind you: in this employment agency, viverti I is not never enough.
Then, suddenly, you were already across the street and I had nothing left to tighten.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Beige Color For Bathroom

still ask me why I'm leaving and never closes well

I still wonder why I'm leaving and never closes the door when I do well. Let me answer the rest of this space and tell you that for me, discretion is the only value that matters. The flight belongs to me, and I can well abandon the party when the whole world sit down. And sit down too. And sit down often.

know why things, my things, they end up? Because it never ends the day. The weather was heavy out there, with all its load of people who are not from 'peace to resemble a little bit, boring time. Then someone comes along, someone always ends up talking and talking and that seems to never go volersene. And while they do, I pass by the eyes of the world I guess. And every time because that M'innamoro world runs stronger, runs deeper, while I run the line at the post office and people talk to me and I do not answer because I'm happy. But here, wondering what happened to has made this world do not need that much if not then there was the time to imagine more. Because now people would slide sideways and I do not feel any burning when I touch it. I can not find. Do not imagine it. Do not touch it. And if the people behind me fades, I do not want to fade too. I do not want to sabotage this flash of imagination.

And that's why the rest does not matter. It does not matter anymore. Because if we look at all that people are doing out there, do not come to terms with the butcher and imagine all that we have yet to invent. Life is all a think of words that bounce and stick like ping-pong balls in the corners of the bed and we are always there to try to replace the balls. And throw away the time.

We we had not prepared for this, we were not there at all. We had watched from behind just happy not to just stay in the world. And then you better c'inventiamo something different, something as complicated as the telegraph wires, or maybe the teletype moveable Creed. It 'better than there are in the world such as carbon or rather as the reinforced concrete columns. Here, I want to prepare myself for this: to study the chemical composition of cement and take advantage of the many employment opportunities. Because I want to think of

solid.

And this time forever.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Stringent Tightlacing

door when I do I put the key in

But I want to take you there in Paris. Just reached the top we take a coffee at the airport and watching planes take off from the glass. Why is the best moment of the matter is the moment that left us lazy, dumb, to improvise.

The viewpoint has taken my breath away and broke it slipped across trunks, pressed between toothpaste and freshly laundered shirts. And now that the world does the check-in, I can only look and look, as I talk and talk, and I am no resistance. Because love always seemed to me the slip between the things of and resist the temptation to move them.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

How To Make A Diaper Cake Carriage

Paris and later in the freezer door of memories

I put the key in the door and entered the freezer of memories.

Look to the left of the yellow mail box, and we find all the correspondence that I have never met. Submerged under inches of dust, that you are there too the laugh and you made merry over the dirty glass of your way of seeing things.
You left the pots to crack in the pantry, corks and bottles of wine to make vinegar by the stove. And corked all this mess, new year late and dry sweets to rot in the cupboard.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

How To Hack Sidekick 08 Internet

The concept of friendship in Aristotle

The idea stems from the fact that today, we believe that friendship is caused by pleasure: we live under the influence of passion, and pursue above all what is an immediate pleasure. But with age also do things like that are becoming different. Today quickly became friends and quickly cease to be: in fact, the friendship changes with the change in what is pleasure, and the change of such a kind of pleasure is quick. The present work aims to highlight the doctrines of Aristotle, especially friendship, set out in Book VIII and IX of the 'Nicomachean Ethics. Aristotle considers friendship "a thing not only necessary but also beautiful," in because "no one would choose to live without friends, even if it were provided in abundance of all other goods." There are three species of friendship depending on which is founded on mutual pleasure, profit or under : "Three then are the kind of friendships, as three species are susceptible to quality of friendship and each of them corresponds to a change of friendship is not hidden. And those who love each other are to each other's good, about what they love each other. Then those who love one another because profits do not love themselves, but as a result between them some good, likewise also the ones you love because of pleasure. (...) Friendship Perfect is good and similar in virtue. They in fact they love each other because they are good and are good in themselves, and those who love him as a friend to your friends themselves are the real friends (in fact they are such in themselves and not accidentally), then the Their friendship lasts as long as they are good, and virtue is something stable, and each is good both in an absolute sense is for a friend. In fact, the good are both good in an absolute sense, it is useful to each other. " While that based on pleasure and the profit turns out to be accidental and ceases when the pleasure or the profit is less, rather than based on virtue is perfect and is the more stable.

I think ...

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Waterproof House Trim

dream

Bastardi dreams, legitimate children of frustration. The other day I

account of the background noise and there was a big mess in the brain that I have seen the years following the first run fast thrill of skin. For every dream that I will be at least seven alibi the day that I parry his ass. And then I think you silly
.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Neosynephrine And Cats

Electrelane - 'To The East'

memories of friends! the feeling of being inseparable, and accomplices.
Dedicated to my precious friend.

Monday, March 8, 2010

What Causes Nose Scabs Smell

only dreams are real tango

After the love I lost forever, and the next moment I was always late. After attacking

love the dreams from the ceiling and watch them glide like petals on the pillow. Today I often return to maintenance, step on the copal wood and the trick is not to see everything in the old. And on the paraglider There is so much dust that you go back to dust as the weather.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Lorhi Invitations Wording

The effect of the anesthetic in the long term has vanished in the editing room

Who expected it, she thinks.
The effect of the anesthetic in the long term has vanished.
His stomach is closed, a slight pain to the unprepared.
Like a punch that grabs his gut.
Well, this is the image that has
someone squeezes your guts and keep it raised.
A pain in the same time has a pleasure.
It 's the trouble of pleasing those who wait ...
awaits him.
The effect of the anesthetic in the long term has vanished.
feel another sting: disorientation.
E 'in his bed, large and clean.
He booked tonight. She almost has the feeling of loss.
Who embraces this evening ...? be naked
desire to embrace.
The only way to fall asleep,
Tomorrow will have them.
...

Finally the day has arrived.
The night passed in a moment he sees it,
then there is nothing more beautiful than ready for him,
for the meeting in the morning.
The phone rings, a message: hello, kiss kiss.
answer: kiss kiss
Stadiums anxiety controlled ... then slow down to savor.
...

A question.
gaze falls on a detail, you ignore it?
burns inside for the rest of the story is better not to say.
This also means growing together?

...
Then do not talk about his anxieties

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Conversion From W/v To W/w

in the editing room with Salvatores ...
more than the director, I am struck by the person by Gabriele Salvatores.
The Passion of the image and the story has its own dialect.
swallowed by his stories and his eyes sparkle as the words and memories are formed.
E 'sitting next to me with so naturally talks and points out ... First of all, man, person, speaker, and then ...
I realize how long after my usual, which I next Oscars.
I am very happy.