Low Temperature Chemo

2008 - Christmas with Ballet! Poll

Dear readers, what do you good today? Many of you are still on holiday. Others, however, have already taken up the work! And above all these is the thought of our dear beloved Joseph Cotroneo! Our hero invites you not to despair: the new year is near! Other holidays are at your disposal. To encourage and make it less bitter day, as of now it is the intention of our hero Aguri 2008 a memorable one. Trust us and click here , which is about to start the show!

Kodak Colorburst Film Compatible

Dear readers, in relation to the previous post, there was a conflict exists between us at drafting and Clare, one of our most diligent readers.

Clare argues that the author of the post "... I believe ...!" is an ass, and then we in the writing we should not write it. Or at least, found its failure, we should remove the post.

In contrast, we have stood in defense of the post, since, as repeatedly argued, the philosophy of this blog is to give space to all. Good and less good.

In addition, in our opinion, would have been even worse delete the post after its publication, as this solution would have sounded like a kind of censorship.

Anything short would go to the expense the seriousness of this blog.

These are the opposite reasons. It is now up to you to settle the conflict that has been created by participating in the survey that you can find at the top right of this blog.

We are eager to know how you think about it, so hurry up and vote! The survey

rimmarà open for the next 14 days, then together they comment on the results.

How Long Does It Take Chlamydia To Clear Up

... I believe it ....! Hey there Delilah

Until there is a commitment there is hesitancy, the chance to stand back there and the action is always ineffective.
There is one elementary truth, which concerns each and every action creation and ignore it suppresses countless ideas and splendid plans more: as soon as you engage in a definitive way, even Providence is set in motion.
happen a lot of things that come to help and that they would not otherwise have occurred.
The entire sequence of events leading to flows from that decision, for us, all sorts of events, meetings, practical help to imagine that no man ever find on their way.
I learned to respect deeply the lines of Goethe's saying: "Whatever you can do, or dream you can, from the beginning. The boldness has genius itself, power and magic."

.... we believe the editorial staff there ..... and you?

Wood Burning Pinewood Derby Design

Dear readers, I inform you that a few hours ago came in drafting a statement by Joseph Cotroneo himself. Joseph welcomes the success of this blog, and thank you all for the love and admiration shown to him.

E 'then its going to wish you a good night dedicating a very nice song that surely will find to your liking.

The choice of this song is not random, but we need to reflect on a topic that often afflicts us and scares us: the loneliness determined by the excessive distance. Surely you all will happened at least once in their life, to live with the anxiety separation from a loved one. Well, the message referred to in the name of Joseph Cotroneo you would like addressed, can be summarized in one sentence: no distance is really unassailable.

not ever forget it!

And so, even if Joseph is away, he does not forget you, and will gird himself with this song all in a warm embrace and symbolic.

But now, let's let the music do the talking: "Hey there Delilah" by Playn White T 'S

Good night and sweet dreams to all.

Tracfone Airtime Cards Free

A leader and a "metal" clean slate

Sarcasm is an essential component in winning. Indeed, precisely through the sarcasm, the Chosen, the Chosen One, able to overturn the great situation that previously saw him in the background. Sharp weapon, sarcasm, only to be used after a long period of initiation, because if you are still a beginner, you risk a bad impression.

We can not say if Joseph Cotroneo has acquired this quality after a long period of initiation, or if he, this characteristic is innate.

But the fact is that he is a master of sarcasm.

A practical example: in the early days of the first high school, a character trying to take over boasting of his skills athletic.

One day, while he strutted to the center of the class (so that everyone could hear him), he was struck by the sharp sarcasm of our Joseph, who, of course, prevailed.

The self-proclaimed athlete, muscle, indicating the various parts of his body, boasted, saying to all of us, inert viewers: "Here is iron" - and pointed to the biceps, "here is the iron" - and indicated the chest - "and iron, there is also here," pointing to this time the hamstring.

All of us, silent to see a show really unattractive.

Only one spoke, and was Giuseppe Cotroneo. What it said, "and then goes to ago er metal!

We knew which one was the real leader.

Joseph Cotroneo was the real leader. The other was just a "metal"!

Ps: Sorry for the prolonged absence in recent days. Unfortunately we had a failure in writing to the computer so we have not even been able to respond to your comments. It is important however that we have solved everything and we are at your disposiozione.

Carrot And Hot Sauce What Does It Do

Aylynn

This may seem like the story of a journey, it's really an incredible story of how Aylynn is my alter-ego when I become too funny to be true.

I started Aug. 12, as usual at the last moment, with the project to go straight to Paris and then reach Ste Erasmus and Manu that were there.
I definitely wanted to go to Britain, perhaps up to the rocky Brest in search of witches and Celtic circles magical.
The train was traveling to the French capital at night. Quattro sediolini lying on the mo 'with single bed and a half then I try to call my friends, but neither responds. The sending of text messages in Britain aims to achieve between 4-5 days. Then I fall asleep and I dream:
I'm looking at a dusty descent to the sea, a kind of inverted Y steep. In the water there is a swing built with wooden beams and the children playing around us. Music of flutes in the distance. A cricket huge jumps in front of me and I follow. When I stop he stops, turns his head and looks at me questioningly. Waiting for me. Then approaches a tall and lanky with a face mask with aviator glasses to the bottom of the bottle, peeled and with the lobes of the metal circles the diameter of a couple of inches, like those African tribes. E 'covered with tattoos for half of the body and is' very bad. Behind the lens, however, has a sweet look and friendly. In any case, I trust. He takes off a ring and I put on my ear lobe finger ragged, laugh and feel invincible. Then I realize that the beach there are Stephen and Manu taking the bath and greet me with his hand.
giant says, "Good and evil do not exist at all. Do not waste time trying to be good, rather it seeks to be right. " The cricket looks at me and smiles.
I wake up a bit 'strange in the compartment empty. "Dreams", I think.
turn on my mobile and I'll get a message Page. My friends, just dreaming, I respond. Have become infected by my desire for adventure and send me a sentence dark, almost encrypted: "see you in the Huelgoat 8 / 8 to 8".
In Paris I stay very short. Sitting at a table in a bar I do a quick consultation of the village map to see where I am. I find that is a forest not far from NAME. I have about five days before and decided to walk around in broad outline the path to do. Chasing memories of Marie Antoinette that I just saw the movie I'm going to VersaillesUel. The queue to enter the building, however, is infinite, and I, impatient, immediately returned to the station and take an express train to Rambouillet. Check that there is now afternoon and I stopped to eat at a park with a pond where there are two huge fish, catfish, I think, both have mustaches. Launch of the pieces in water sandwich and sling them at the speed of light. If you put your finger at your mouth I think the sieve. Fantastic opportunity to check on it but I will stop for a moment before, as I almost always do when I'm fucked up.
Rest your finger on the water and a feeling of irresponsibility that I do not mind. I reflect on how often just a small detail to make the best of this world into something ugly or dangerous. I always feel very close to this boundary.
I have with me the tent, but at Chartres, which is nearby, there should be a hostel, get there by bus which is almost evening.
I'm going for a walk before it gets dark at all. At the center of a tiny village, high in front of the cathedral, I have a slight dizziness. This church is very old, the structure looks like a spider web. I suffer of Stendhal Syndrome, which basically consists nell'inebetimento in front of works of art. The first time it happened during a school trip. I was stunned almost an hour before the Last Judgement, which had just been restored. I did not realize that others continued and the appeal output was not present. I looked at the painting as if it were a modern subliminal advertising on good and evil. The blue sky, scraping away the dirt of centuries, it was as bright as if the color was not yet dry. The fresco is part of the ceiling, forcing an unnatural position that makes your head spin because the blood does not circulate and flatten the neck. I do not know how long I was up his nose, his head slightly, forgetting everything, lost in the clouds puffy and piled in little bodies, looking for someone who looked like me. I was focused mainly on hell and purgatory, heaven was too high. An employee at the museum, informed by my companions, I found there and brought me back the bus.
front of the church of Chartres is happening to me again and am stunned to see the stained glass windows and transparent that the light from outside light as electricity. Resistance when I left I walked back slowly and the austere church will cease to have power over me. It happens to me always and that is why I travel. When the spell is finished I wander the streets near the old river. In a souvenir shop I buy a box of useless pieces of glass, precious stones seem crude and giants. The next stage
Orleans. The story of the maiden has always fascinated me, Joan burned at the stake as a witch. Arrival Sunday everything is closed, for more is ferragosto and there are tourists. I take a train that runs along the first stretch of the Loire and I stop at Blois, where he set up the tent in a beautiful camp. There is a castle built by Catherine de 'Medici, one of the most powerful women in European history, a fervent Catholic who knew the power of poisons, another "witch". Opposite the castle is the home of Hudinì magician, illusionist. While I'm there, undecided on which one to visit, the six windows of the house magician at the same time opened wide and six gigantic dragon heads popping out as if to pounce. Jump with fright. They are mechanical automata of the nineteenth century, a house-watch. Leaving
I notice the tails of dragons in the back of the house, which sguisciano glittering like snakes in the den while falling. At the end of the show windows are closed again by themselves with a dull thud, to the horror house. "Phenomenal" comment to myself.
In a tourist brochure I take the point of all the castles and choose one that seems to be Sleeping Beauty. Inside is a room called the five queens, one of them is Marguerite de Valois, Queen poet.
front of the canopy bed is a tapestry with wildlife. One in which fixed my attention in his hand a wooden flute and I like her.
In the afternoon I get closer to the coast of Brittany, the weather begins to change and the air is humid, the ocean is not far away.
Arrive in Carnac dead tired, I stop at the first open space I can find, near a beach just outside the village. Set up your tent and try to find I do not know how long a comfortable position before I could sleep.
The next morning I wake up more tired than before, I go out to stretch my legs and I notice a sign that the night before I had seen

WARNING AREA

Unhealthy

Seeking to calm thinking I slept only a lot of mud near the beach but does not look inviting.
At that moment I see a music coming from nearby. I know, but I can not remember when I've heard.
It 'an old man with a wooden flute sitting on a rock, there's no one around. As soon as I saw stops playing and says something in a strange language, maybe Breton dialect.
answer "Sorry, I do not understand, I do not understand, but the old man shakes his head and begins to play.
I do a pinch on the arm to make sure they wake up, get up again and the old look is gone. On the rock, however, is the flute.
I've never played an instrument in my life but this is a gift for me, I'm sure. E 'rosewood and must be ancient.
do not know how I know these things, but instinctively to his lips and began to play, and well, I must say. Shooting interrupts me, I know the name of the barely known and are totally out of tune. What the hell is going on?
He ran back to the tent and took it down fast, I move away from them. Finally I find a campsite and I settle on the first pitch free. I'll go take a shower, which relaxes me, but I start to get bored of being alone and more are also scared.
After dinner I suddenly go back to sleep and sleep for almost two days of yarn.
When I wake up I realize I'm laying on an inch of water. The sleeping bag is wet and wearing the suit that soup. The tent, obviously, it is not waterproof.
I try to avoid pneumonia and recovery in the bag of dry clothes, then close the curtain, with his hands all soft and wrinkled. I lost track of time but I think the days of the appointment with my friends is today.
I want to call them, but I can not find the phone that was in the side pocket of the tent.
Redo all the movements back to no avail, on the ground there is a lake of mud and have no hope of finding him. They are completely isolated and lost the phone numbers, what a tragedy! Gradually, however, the degradation becomes a feeling of freedom. I begin to realize that the answers to some of the dilemmas that haunt me are hidden in the things that are happening to me, only I do not understand yet. However, I decided to flee the camp, which now has become a pool, with tents and trailers that float on the water.
control on the road map for Huelgoat and take a tourist bus that goes there. The mood on the way is the swing between elation and terror.
The driver stops at the edge of the woods, I download and go. A wooden sign informs:

lives here Merlino

wizard of

transformations

I stand under a shelter and turn on the gas stove to make tea. There is a strange air around and kill time and give me courage, I play the flute.
At one point, from the depths of the forest, I hear a voice of a child.
around me in slow motion, the hair stands on end of arm I was convinced to be alone with me is not nobody down and even the shadow of those two.
I am meeting a slim figure and slightly lower than me.
It is not a child.
The hair is long and slender, almond-shaped eyes slightly lateral, sharp cheekbones, wide mouth and smiling.
I was enchanted to see us when a gust of wind ruffles his hair and discovers his ears, slightly pointed.
Mioddio an elf!
"Aylynn, I'll give it a bit '?" He says with ringing tone.
reached out to offer her the cup, "Scott" I warn.
"You came to the appointment," said the voice, ambiguous creature. She looks at me to make defiance in his eyes there is a sbrilluccichio amused.
How do you know of my appointment?
"I've been waiting for," he adds mysteriously.
Our fingers touch, and I suddenly remember the dream of cricket, then the faun in the bed of Margot. Both are similar to the face that is in front of me, and I must say that I like. Indeed, it is identical! He also has a flute similar to mine, holding in his left hand.
seems to be the mirror.
smile, "the meeting was you?" Wonder inconsistent.
"The giant is right," he says, "I do not think too much, listen to everyone, but decide alone and always be yourself", then I propose "sound?".
nod, happy to test my new-born talent.
Duet in the woods, as if I were a nymphet who lives there. After a while ', copy my fairy says, "Now give me the gift."
I have only a moment of embarrassment, then recovered from the bag took the colored stones to give them to him and Chartres.
"Beautiful," he says dreamily, "But now I must go, my friends are waiting for me and your waiting for you."
smiles away and "Do not forget me" she whispered, before disappearing into the woods.

Letteron Community Service

clean slate! It is not that stroke of a pen can do it all! This is no amateur! About program a sponge, it must have the qualities of "The Prince" by Machiavelli: he must know how to govern their luck. Choose a good time! Assessing all the circumstances!

Joseph Cotroneo is a professional of the stroke of a pen!

today's discussion, we would like to illustrate two of writing.

Third High School, self-management. The whole school to party, with professors on our hands all day. Joseph decided it was the right time to act. In the week we stayed in self-management class and we did all the questions of the quarter.

right choice! In fact at that time the Professor were quiet. Instead, once the self-management, they would come back more pissed off than before (they accused the students have made him miss a week of lessons and questions and now needed to recover).

Joseph Cotroneo learned to choose the right time for questions. And we were all winners, to follow our leader.

another shot of Sponge: exam. In class we were 28, and there we entered the classroom of all concerned: it was decided that eight people were to be sacrificed, and would incur the writings in another room.

None of the class wanted to be among the "eight" victims, and there were those who suggested that the process for 8 people at random.

Joseph Cotroneo intervened at this point: " between 8 I'll go! Astonishment on the face of all. "But I want to take with me who say I . "Giuseppe Cotroneo chose 7 people of which he was certain he could trust: 7 all have contributed to the task of mathematics. And that would fight head on, one for all and all for one." Genius Class tenevelo you, I want these 7 . "I am writing this post was one of the seven. It became the" Cotreneo's Seven .

And we 8 - considered doomed from everyone else - we were the only to play the math test with dignity.

But, as we said earlier this post, make a clean slate is not something to be naive.

Once we tried this "Mandarancio" (formal name, no corresponding neither a person nor a thing) who, to rebel against the situation of submission, dared to plot against Joseph Cotroneo. Classmates came to us and we suggested an overcoat against Joseph Cotroneo. Needless to say that the plan of Mandarancio failed.

And Mandarancio had to endure the further humiliation of expulsion from the group's music class. I still remember that day of testing. I was there to tune the guitar, while the Mandarancio warmed the fingertips. At that point he entered the rehearsal room which was the singer Joseph Cotroneo group. And so commanded Joseph Cotroneo " Mandarancio out !

I have a dream! A band without the Mandarancio! Giuseppe Cotroneo

Great!

Crock Pot Brisket Dry

The hermaphrodite

I met him in the summer. I noticed because I was like, made me think all'ermafrodito. The archetype of the mythological monster, divided in two because they are too powerful, has always fascinated me. He had become well the topic of my thesis, entitled "Masculine, feminine and neuter in the novel by Giuseppe Marini The Venetian baroque Calloandro faithful." The two main characters, and speculate Calloandro Leonilda, heroes are twofold, in continuous transformation, very bored by clichés corte.L 'plot is tangled, you lose the thread, boys dress up as girls and vice versa, in a confused role of escalation of trade. In the labyrinthine novel look at the two fall in love and forgiveness. After daring adventures they meet again by chance in a tournament, she is wearing armor that is not his, he, too: do not recognize. Confront, fight and almost s'ammazzano. The duel symbolizes the danger that springs from the union of the two halves of the prodigious be, well I almost convinced my rapporteur. The poor and unsuspecting lovers are parts of it all, Siamese twins separated at birth, forever in search of each other; must struggle against passion, speaking against the Freudian ES, and then against themselves, in order to finally reunite. I wanted to scream "fuck instead of fighting!" He was sure he had met me, perhaps to some party, almost certainly under the influence of a massive dose of something, probably on pills stamped with pink hearts. "Considering my position entropy, "I said seriously quoting the definition of the electron around the nucleus," is unlikely but not impossible. " He laughed in a way, and I thought "gay", then I hoped "maybe it's bi", the idea that it was a simple straight I touched at all. Instead of armor, had a belt full of rhinestones, metal plaque with a red heart and the words I'm sexy gold sequins, which I found horribly absolutely beautiful and I wanted to give me. It was broken down like a spoiled child, a dandy, though I soon found out that his culture was decidedly pop (meaning popular). She had a face that could happily be defined by blows, and never noticed the expression would be more adatta.Mi now that the friend who was with him staring at me all infastidita.Ci found ourselves dancing in a bar on the beach, and what was initially nothing more than a feeling turned out exactly the truth: The woman checked us in sight. He still did not get big scruples, I glanced sideways and tried to abide as closely as possible. When he could escape the vigilance would enjoy stroking her neck, I went ice cold fingers on my back sweaty and then returned quickly to focus on the glass in his mano.Io shuddered with pleasure, but considering the greater body mass of the other I tried to remove him by trimming away a series of attempts pizzicotti.Il not away at all in fact, seemed to amuse him. A few bites were as strong, but the gentleman did not change and remained in paraggi.Mi looked at his fingers ached and I realized that there was blood under her fingernails. I looked up on him and, for a moment, I saw the bright and shiny tip of the tongue that darted between his white teeth, like a serpente.Gli liked, strontium, and when I realized I had a slight turning of testa.Il morning following, looking faux-innocent, a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar, handed me the city, reduced to six or seven small pezzi.Passai the rest of the day was always accompanied by qualcuno.Lui fibrillation, but its intention was zero and turn your mastiff guard that he brought with him as a mark of shame was not something I wanted or even I would be able to fare.Venni know that she did not drink or smoke never too much, not to distraction and risk to miss it on the street, people had repeatedly beaten and ultimately had a good carattere.Io struggled to exert power over myself, let alone another umano.L be 'infamous Schiavetto stood firm all the time and docile under the umbrella, long rope tied to an imaginary no more than ten meters. As soon as she was distracted, though, I looked like a drug. He could not restrain himself, and the idea of \u200b\u200ba handover, a new perspective and unknown, that he would immediately released and chained to a yoke different, and therefore more desirable, he did not feel there had me in pelle.Con never really tried, maybe not even there he could, but had learned to meet women without necessarily having to get laid, and I bet he knew so well the ways to attract men. With both applied the same thin ricatto.Una night, shining as an anthropologist who studies human nature, procured a long, deep scratch on the right side of the chest was the only time that he was really duro.Il days after red sign was proudly displayed on his chest tanned and featherless, an exclamation point seemed shaky and crooked. Running his fingers over the wound to heal was, he said dreamily, "In contact with the sea burns a casino." His wife, nearby, looked at me with hatred. He took my anxiety by universal justice and, in some sort of comparison to the south of fire, I faced, "Why continue to be with?" I asked, perfectly aware that it was the most stupid question I could do. "What?" she snapped angrily, all expected except that my tone participatory, "Leave us alone," continued bypassing my question without trying to understand even for a second. "What?" I said I too have seen that, everything is fine, but until proven otherwise, it was he who, at a certain hour of the night was to look like a dog sbavettante, tried to explain, "Look who it is he who ..." "I know you but you have to stop," said Kapo the end without me, "You are just like him," he continued with the anger that mounted on the face of "evil and sick." He is protected behind his back, looked at me adoringly. "Look at you, rather," I blurted out trembling, "and I say it is the first time because I do not believe he would do it with anyone, for he is a game, do not you understand?" I insisted on no particular reason, only to be right, maybe, "so I do not want" I said contemptuously, "I tried to send him away, but always comes back" I said, knowing instantly that the company was beginning to already unhealthy fruit bacati.Due the tears sprang unexpectedly bloodshot eyes, seemed to speak of a poor victim in the clutches of an evil mantis sprawling, "To stop him you have to do so ..." wailed hysterically. "You want to give me some advice? Did you do so well ... "I said insolently trying to frighten them and cut out the possibility of leaving in place eretta.Mi seemed to have a bulldog ready to jump in front of the throat, I was afraid to turn his back, threw quick glances to the side see if someone comes along, "I'll take you," I said with the air of a grant them, as I walked away as walking backwards in front of a cardinale.Partì The following day he saw me go, whined like a little puppy abandoned.

Men Legs Together Heat

For a moment

• In: "Ink" 2004
  Align, close, "Press start" I say. He pushed in and I wait ... rrrrrrrrrrrrrr makes the scanner. "Done" he says. I open, I check, "Ok, passamene another." Realign, close, "Press." He pressed. Appearance ... rrrrrrrrrrr, wait ... are hours that we are doing. On the bed there's still an impressive amount, in those tin cans, where the first ones were held the biscuits. I quite functional, but essentially against their will, I am doing the a favor and want it to be clear, he reduced to obedience to me, perhaps for the first time in life. With the technology still has some problems. With the mobile phone for example. Keeps it in the bag and do not ever feel. It is practically useless to take it with them. Those rare occasions when he responds to, even if the display reads that I am, her daughter always has a tone of serious, clumsy, as if speaking through that thing without the wires seemed strange, after all. We would rather aiuto.Ovviamente we surprised when, almost overnight, as if to prove his good will, he bought everything from VCR and DVD player (with the amendment to read the cd Moroccans), Play Station game with a sailing regatta for imaginary (but mostly for my brother and bring him to spend more time at home), Pentium 4 computer with DVD burner (having already bought the VCR / DVD recorder) with attached printer Epson color and another yesterday, finally, a scanner. "What the fuck he will never Scanner" is seraphic asked my brother when I told him. Reconstruct the past. That's what. And I'm helping. Precisely the kind of activities she loves so much to do with his daughter padre.Ci are people who go crazy for stuff like this, go to tape all the old movies of the holidays, with entire album browsing generations of children in her apron, hundreds and hundreds of different ages, all with white collar and funny expressions, clustered in groups of twenty or thirty, with the teacher sitting in front or side, almost always with a flowered dress and a combing gonfia.Tutto of a sudden he made up his mind to do it too. He wants to get on his brand new PC all the photos and slides that showed "Why so much now who sees them once more to give ... yes, once you did ...." Will when he was young. For a moment I imagine him sitting in the dark on the living room carpet, along with his friends. Anna with the row in the middle and a miniskirt, as usual, Xavier, with even the hair on the head, with the eternal Fulvio Lucky Strike no filter between your fingers (it is now in Brazil, the only one who lives in some way by former sessantottino), the late lamented Rosaria, poor thing, how I loved her, I had given a little train that went hard as he walked in I was literally scared, a little 'aloof mother, a beautiful, winking to the objective of my mental picture. Together to look at the pictures on the wall last trip to Turkey, Yugoslavia, or some other place that you wore in those years, even passing a joint. He was good, had a black Canon and telephoto needle strictly black and white, even after the color. At the beginning developing these alone in a closet turned into a dark room where we could hardly move. Then he stopped developing after a while 'to have them, even at the end of guardarle.Allineo, close, "Press." He pressed. Look ... look ... rrrrrrrrrrr Done. I open, control. I'm scanning from the past ten this morning, and before our eyes, without interruption, I have passed: the half ruined castle of Santa Maria, with the beach only half-empty as could be in the fifties, my grandmother with black hair that seem pitch, holding a small child, his little children died of tuberculosis, the father of my father, I even remember him from the face but I would like to be able to make a little ', as my grandfather, my father, with baggy shorts, and skinny as a stick of black licorice, then great, with a military uniform and hat, bag, my mother, a pretty girl with his chin sharp, with a dress with ruffles that had my grandmother, a woman with Berber red circle on his forehead and holding a baby wrapped in a white shawl. There are no photos of marriage. My father, after separation, in a fit of silly revenge, has pulled all of them. I think he regretted it, even if there has ever confessed. Maybe that's why you do it all 'I'm shaking, to atone. O for security, should not happen to another time ... He occasionally comments some pictures, he says something, "But is not that all 'ste so bad?". I watch it when I know I is not watching. I want to finish as soon as possible, the fingers are beginning to be gray from the dust and some photos are so worn that we must be careful at the edges. A newspaper home with dead and wounded, familiar faces change over time. I'm about to reach the maximum limit of condescension and is also approaching the time for dinner, my father goes into the kitchen and came back with a glass of limoncello, "Want a drink?" He asks. In less than two hours will be a bit 'sad and a bit' drunk, put on a disc of Bob Dylan or James Brown and will cover the result of our work. It will probably be happy for a moment. "I in a little 'I' I say timid, hoping not to hurt him." Ok ", he hurried" and then just do this. " Pass me a last card, one of the few color photos. Me and him on the balcony of the old house. Yes and no I will have five years, a red pullovers and a hat the same color. We painted all the faces, he told me he had drawn the schiocche red lipstick and eyebrows as a clown, I I had made a series of signs on the face of irrational and blacks. I look at the photo and for a moment think that maybe I wanted to draw a skull face, because it looks like that, then I feel guilty Thought for the macabre. "Surprisingly small" I say to align the photo on the scanner. I close, "Press" I say. Appearance ... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr aspect. Pixel by pixel me and him on the screen. Hidden behind his back and I am touched, for a moment, I'm happy.

Saw Palmetto For Alopecia Universalis

Intro

Joseph Cotroneo is the Warrior of Light! Why believe in miracles, and miracles begin to happen.
Finally, after numerous requests from many, here we are to achieve for all avid fans of Joseph Cotroneo, a site that can make direct contact with their idol!
Joseph Cotroneo is an example for us all to life. Do not hold only for us, no! But to share with all those people who, tired and suffering from a life sometimes at the limit of tolerability, they are willing to make a change to their lives.
And the recipe that all these people want suggest he is right: Giuseppe Cotroneo!
Registration is now open to her Fans Club! Hasten to many!
We promise you a clean slate to wait a long time!

Gall Bladder And Beer

Castano intense heat

in: "I mirror" Sperling & Kupfer 2006

cut their hair, change his color, was for her, as for all women, a very precise function. Constituted a sort of warning, you know who wants to understand .... Not everyone did. The
systematically going to every turnover boyfriend. One fatal and she preferred it if it made them grow. After a while, 'if he gets bored and cut very short.
One day, for example, began with Toni, who had noticed her own short hair, but after a while 'made the mistake of showing a picture of when we had them long, "You were best before" he said. She cried and wished he had never done but would not leave me with the above, if he had not, and would not have known. He began to have them grow back, but when they returned for a decent length Toni was already nice and forgotten, without ever having had the pleasure to ride around by the tail.
followed a period of profound challenge to the universe of all that took her to the extreme action of the machine. After the ricrebbero with the line on the wrong side, because of vertigo that he had on his forehead, and she even imagined that there was a line "a woman" and one not.
reached a historic high with the longest relationship of her life (two years and three months). He finished that too, and head back to the discovery, preferred for a while 'sporadic reports.
In the intervals between them and the other a colored, the most frequent, the one that held up longer, it was red, in variations ranging from Pompeii to the key menopause (as he called his father), through a burgundy-red purple. Lightens and darkens as the mood and once, by mistake, if they found blacks jet-black, shiny polished to look like a wig. A
period was wearing by anyone to go to London, the Poppyred from anything in Italy, a fantastic gel (preferably purple or cobalt blue), anything that colored, solid or liquid that was in an instantaneous and persistent. She did these experiments that lasted a few weeks and then a silver in viravano horrible yellow, striped. When he met Francesca
the cyclical nature of the growths and stains left on the head of the horizontal bands of varying thickness, which were the envy of the world's oldest sandstone rocks, whose age is calculated based on the notes layering of different materials, "I think that'd be fine with your natural color, "said his new friend.
few months later and took home with her, first through a brown shampoo intense heat, then without more, went to a nice dark brown, her.
"What did I tell you?" Francesca told her passing her fingers through her hair.

What Would Make Stool Black

Day timeless

I must have fallen asleep around four in the morning but I wake up early, as solito.Non I'm at home, strano.Non recognize a place after getting up is a common feeling, but in this case are not in my own bed . Rest a little 'undecided what to do. Normally, after several stretched, I feel compelled to let the day begin. Usually, together with consciousness, also comes the anxiety I get up, muovermi.In this warm bed but you feel good. I move and I feel on my skin, slightly sweaty, another cooler; sola.Lui are not still sleeping, pacifico.I my thoughts begin to rumble and a bit distracting 'his sleep, he turns around and hugs me, I Pull with your right leg under him and he abandons himself to bear weight morto.Non stay in bed when I'm awake now, but I feel dominated by the desire that this man sleeping has on me. I accept it in a completely unconditional: I can not move or risk svegliarlo.Un bit 'desire to interrupt his sleep and replace it with my talk I have, but then change my mind. Who knows what a feeling would have you, in the early morning, my ruminations. The pool and I notice that a slight erezione.Mi immobilisation, nestled beneath him, trying not to breathe a bit forte.Da filters out 'of luce.Cerco to slip back into the torpor of sleep but I'm hot and I have to pee . Resisto.Stare hidden here I like, even if the precarious balance of my short life will come back on time. I am beset by problems absurd thoughts, some I invented it from scratch. Sleep. I want it so much, but I can not, it puts me in a state of agitation. I want to pet it, but I absolutely want you svegli.Lui is a good example of relaxation. It drives me mad, I'm always on the qui vive, I check all the time, perhaps for fear of running away via.Basta I alzo.I feet in contact with the cold floor, I freeze it in two seconds. I open up the door of this nest that smells of hot night and close it behind me, trying to make less noise possibile.La kitchen seems flooded with light, compared to the darkness that's là.Vado in the bathroom and sit on the toilet with his legs dangling, watch the door does not close bene.Ho dry mouth and legs numb, too much wine yesterday e.All 'sudden everything goes back in my mind, then he goes in the belly. "How wonderful" I say, going from memory a couple of minuti.Mi look in the mirror, I have some bruising and a bit 'of sperm was dried on his stomach, the scratch off with your fingernail. Rest in shower at least twenty minutes, I fill the bath of smoke and condenses, I wipe, I can not find the hairdryer, it seems so strange to be around qui.Resto puzzled, with wet hair I immediately cold, I'm not sure that I want to do. I almost go away, so he dorme.Schiaccio his nose against the window, cold wet at all inviting, the atmosphere of this city does not help my chronic indecisione.Faccio tea, choose from among those comics lying around, put an X on those two or three things I could / should I do and I run back to letto.Non want today cominci.La light entering the window is too small to read, I have no chance to turn one in every now and camera.Guardo thin light hair and sticking the sheets. This man has a deep sleep, fascinates me, is full of movements and sounds, dreams a lot. Last night before going to sleep has made small steps, as if the muscles lose strength, then it became more freddo.Fuori, the noise of the city in motion, all in detention, without tempo.Appoggio the cup on the floor and slide slowly into slumber. When I open my eyes, we are even more twisted, legs and back voglia.Controllo braccia.Mi is the time on the green display on the VCR, the two passes. Hesitant the cascading lip semiaperte.Lui emerge from hibernation. "Hello, doll" I dice.Sorrido, the blond and blue invade occhi.Sono me glad I resisted the instinct to go away before you svegliasse.Vicinissimi, eye to eye, I let my mouth a little 'bloated in its deformed; baffi.Faccio tickle of a hand scroll in the heat of the bed, everything is as I left. We begin to plan accarezzarci.Penso people outside, work hours, and we roll around in the sheets. I almost vergogno.Mi is in the mouth and face, "Well done my child," dice.Mi covers with a handkerchief soaked me from everything I'm wearing the wet and dragging me under the covers, I pat the capelli.Sento I could fall asleep to nuovo.Posso? Really? "I get nervous, I move my legs, I do not know if I can." Sleep some more, '"he says with the voice of sleep already, in fact subito.Se goes back to sleep so I could rest, wake up slow, stunned, fell on the bed posti.Sospiro who knows, there is much to do, the day is almost gone, I must convince myself that, maybe you can contenta.Invece are being impaziente.Faccio to get up, he mumbles something, maybe "Where are you going, then more clearly," I'm hungry. "smile again. He's right, I also make myself fame.Mentre the second shower him prepare breakfast, he offered, he says he wants to cook for me, nutrirmi.La lunch break is actually long over, but at least so I go back a bit 'in order with the actions of the day and I do not care about him troppo.A jumps an appointment in the evening, I'm happy or not? decide I do not know. 'Do a barrel, it should be, "said a little' Scazzi sorridente.Non but I know him well, I do not believe him, but I like it, it is vuole.Chiacchieriamo what we, as we were between the first and second time round finalmente.Questa movie.avi a day did not begin affatto.La light decreases. In a little 'notte.Noi will still go back to bed.

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Black

In: 2005 Ink magazine

current jumped right at the beginning of the second half.
The screen has flickered a bit ', it was grainy and then disappeared altogether. Giada
issued a strilletto ridiculous as if someone had opened the bathroom door while she was sitting in the toilet. Then, in the dark, they all shouted.
"I do not want to die in an attack" I thought, "I do not want" I murmured between the screams. It took me a moment of irrational rage and indistinct against Bin Laden, Bush, the whole category of suicide bombers, war, the fuckin 'society, the whole world. "I do not care" I thought, "I will not die because of them."
The plane lost altitude, as if a giant hand, God? Fate? Misfortune? us from the premises. I broke out the pressure in your ears like a soap bubble, I gritted my teeth trying to do a compression resistance between the nose and throat and I felt a strange pain in the jaw stiffened. A slight buzz has taken precedence over internal tears and screaming curses general, enveloping the whole. Giada
crouched in his seat, looked small and helpless and at least not screaming in panic like everyone else. She wept in silence. I appreciate the dignity of his strangely silent terror, like mine.
"It 's the end," I said.
At one point I took her hand and Did I close. I am amazed myself, if I had not been in this situation no one and nothing would induce me to do such a thing. It 's the classic good deed that I would never take the hand of a stranger to give comfort. I thought it was a false gesture, and petty, but I did the same, feeling a sort of disgust for myself, feeling as if I had endorsed a childish, stupid reaction. I did more for her than for me, and that, even if not wanted, we would have tied forever, "Who cares", I thought "I'm dying." The dark foreboding

tried to board was not a simple paranoia of my mind. If the man had been designed to fly I had a pair of transparent wings behind his back I thought as I climbed the ladder of the giant monster. I will support her here? asked intently watching the ailerons, step after step.
The captain, the entry, I smiled encouragingly and secure and I reciprocated with a grimace.
The place was near the window. I would have preferred corridor, to avoid having to look outside.
Since that beside me was empty, I asked a stewardess if I could change, "Excuse me" I told before I went next door, indicating the empty chair, "Can I sit here?".
He looked at me as if he did not understand.
a bit sheepish 'I tried to explain "... is that ... I would not sit near the window." I know it's ridiculous, but I tried anyway.
"This is booked," she does with an air of amusement. I would have wanted that stupid smile off by dint of blows, up to redden his face pale from Nordic that never sees the sun for years, and when he meets him becomes the color of piglets.
"He had to ask when he made the note," she rages.
I close the belt almost not to breathe, even before the voice said. Then I relaxed a bit 'cause I pierced my belly mumbling.
A petite woman, middle-aged, with a mauve suit, came all out of breath. I removed my coat that I had placed in its place. She thanked me, said: "I'm sorry" as if it were his fault.
Two flight attendants have begun to do these ridiculous moves to indicate the emergency exit, the location of life jackets, the use of templates.
Before Her Eyes, I received a photograph of smashed bodies in the wreckage, a shoe dropped to the ground, burnt clothes, like any self-respecting air disaster, "Stop," I said.
Behind a curtain, as unfounded, someone opening and closing branches to supply the juice of the coffee cart.
"Go on vacation?" I asked the nearby interrupting my macabre visions, and settled in the armchair close of the flight.
I did not want to answer and I just nodded.
"But I'm going to find my son" informed me talkative, "He lives there for work, had a baby," she was happy, to be seen.
"Oh yeah?" I said absently, wishing fervently that he was silent.
"yes yes" she continued enthusiastic "In fact a girl, her name is Jade, like me," he stated proudly. His voice was thin and shrill, like the reflection of the sun on the fuselage.
I, my name, I told him no. The lady wanted to talk to Jade and unless it had expressly asked to keep quiet, at the risk of sounding rude, I should have put up with me the whole trip, so I decided not to give her rope. I thought "I'll never so "and a moment later," So what? ".
"Are you alone?" She asked curiously and maternal.
"I expect," I murmured concise. My boyfriend was there for work in a tourist resort, but I did not want to stay and tell a perfect stranger.
The voice of the captain warned us that there was no disruption to our question and wished us a good flight.
When did the movie I pretended to want to watch, hoping that this was enough to make her understand that I did not want to talk to circumstance.
Then the nightmare began.
Jade, when I took my hand, looked at me and I thought of her granddaughter, I imagined her as a blonde, with a sly expression, beautiful.
The idea of \u200b\u200bhaving a child I had never entered his mind, but even she had a granddaughter, although he would not have ever seen.
Then, go to explain why, in panic I thought of Luke, the boyfriend I had in high school, "What happened has made" I asked myself, remembering what I liked. I realized then that I wanted to go there, in Egypt, the holiday villages make me sick. Instead I wanted to find Luke, tell him how much I liked it, knowing how he was now. I do not even remember why our friendship was over. I thought my boyfriend was waiting in an airport Egyptian plane that would land and I was clear as a revelation, "I do not want to be with him. enough ".

A moment after the plane has recovered, the lights are ablaze, the film is broken down as if someone had taken the break. As if nothing had happened.
I do not know what has lasted for three seconds, maybe ten. The weather was a giant sponge that continued to withhold the minutes.
Then the voice said through the microphone of the commander of peace of mind. We met a disturbance that would probably be increased, then it would begin a turnaround to go back. The flight was delayed.
I looked at our hands intertwined "However, I My name is Simon "I told the lady Jade, smiling.



("Ink", Mar / Apr 2004)

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out how an internal combustion engine

"Look, if you enter all the rags," said Mara air safe, secure and neutral, no critical inflection, indeed, trying to hide the fact that Deep down, deep within, he would never openly admitted to anyone but it was so: they considered vulgar. The
bothered a man, let alone a woman.
"Are you sure that you win, one hundred percent," the seconded Franca, "We absolutely have to go and then you imagine what will occur? You have stuff, trust me. "
In fact, the first time that Mara had heard was that discrepancy that most of the blame, more modulated force, more than bombastic scale.
was so pretty, blonde, thin and very shy. Unexpected short, from a beige twin set and dancers, to understand. His name also Emy, a name so sweet, it was a contraction of Emiliana and when she explained it with his thin voice was adorable. Yet, yet, Emy was so fearful of burps powerful, massive and noisy, even when they were at home only three of them, although by now he knew that she was the author of that thunder, she was to exclaim "What the fuck is that?". Could not understand "But if you eat the same things our "he said. Emy
argued that it was gastritis, problem that Mara had always suffered but that he had never given that kind of effect. He said that there could do nothing, but Mara, to get some decent result had to drink six ounces and ounces of cola just uncorked, these demonstrations of natural gastrointestinal almost manly in a body so at least it seemed like magic, and the slight disgust I feel every time it made her feel middle class, "What, you can not burp?, poor thing, it's such a release ...."
It had been explained so many times "Do a little breath, swallow the air like a sip of water, push down, stops in mid-sternum and with a flick of the glottis shoot out "but nothing came out just the noise caused by the rubbing of the vocal cords, at best a retching.
Emy, however, belched as the sink gushed with hydraulic fluid, was afraid every time Mara and Franca looked stunned as she said "Excuse me, have you felt a lot?".
He could even sing, just simple little things, however, says proudly that his father at Christmas, I'll always ask, and she modulated the jingle of "ba ba ba Trunks trunks" to the sound of burping.
Mara, who had played up to Christmas at some poetry, always looked stunned. Then
came out of the competition. For women only.
"Look, you win money," Frank was saying.
The race there was the day after, and both were placed in the ears from the week before saying that absolutely had to go, he would win for sure and it would be fun. Mara on the latter point was not so sure, but kept it for himself.
"But you accompany me," he asked in a plaintive voice Emy, failing.
suspected that Mara would have had some problems of adaptation in this festival of burping, but said nothing.
The next day they prepared, Emy dressed particularly nice, Frank bought a dozen cans of beer to prepare competing and all three settled in the car. They arrived there that Emy was now the fifth can, charge as a combustion engine. Entered. A kind of Dante's inferno, Mothored shirts and American flags everywhere, the eyes of a hundred women with nails blacks and pull their tails they turned to look at them. A small stage is expected to infuse candidates.
They advanced a few steps in the sight not so friendly at that time and Emy broke, unable to keep. Sound good
lasted ten seconds and roared in the great space, followed by absolute silence. Then
all, I say all, began to applaud. It was a crazy riot. Emy
money is not won them for having blown its cartridge before the start, but was elected queen of the night and went home happy as the few times in life.

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eyes bluer

Naples, 1947. Piazza Garibaldi
binaries are covered with rubble, destroyed by bombing the rails, the debris accumulated in the corners to form compact and arid hills. After the war ended only a part of the railway has been restored, and provide two tracks running a few times a day.

's still dark, but the station is already full of people.
The convoy, which must start a load rather unique: hundreds of children, mostly street urchins, boys and girls aged six to twelve years.
Paola is one of them and has almost seven years, but it shows less, it is all wrapped up in the coat too big that gave women the Committee. He rubs his clear eyes with dirty hands, leaving two black stripes on his face haggard. "I keep cool but '" he says, yet again, pulling the skirt of the mother who raises her eyes to heaven, but then if the charge in her arms, covering her with her shawl. To her, the cold has settled it will give the bones that almost does not hear him anymore. It fits the child around the neck holding a grimace of pain. The feet, the feet are a plague, it seems that at every step you ficchino dozens of pins under the trees, 'Do a good mum, on' "she says trying to comfort her, "Mo take you in Modena, they give you milk, bread ..." continued chanting. Paola knows how that story by heart, the mother repeated it to him for a month like a fairy tale.
He sank his head in the shawl, search for the 'familiar smell her mother's neck, hairline, a mixture of lemon and camphor he uses to wash her hair instead of soap that never happened.
Michele walks beside them all intrizzito and silent. Hair rapati to zero because of head lice are growing back as velvet. Paola looks. To see him now, all mangy, would you mind taking it around to a few days ago. He continues to pull on his nose, but the mucus has now formed a flake crystallized around the mouth. It can be cleaned with an old handkerchief held in the sleeve of his coat, but the crust is always reforming.
Gaetano, a young thin man thin, with funny glasses with an intellectual, he begins to make the call: "... Mario Capuano, comes forward with a child looking down" This way "the man says, pushing the first wagon, "Casolaro Rosa ..." continues with a stentorian voice. One after the other are divided so that each group corresponds to a wagon.
The radio controls in the cabin, tuned to the weather forecast continues to predict bad weather.
Paola queues with the other holding hands Michael, who turns constantly looking at the mother. Soon they are all in, placed on wooden seats.
The train is almost ready to go when, from a wagon to another, you hear the same appeal and coat! "And in less than no time all the children take off his coat with the label sewn laboriously recognition from Red Cross on each animal, and throws it out of the windows to the other that remain, which need more. So fast that the station is emptied in an instant and there's no way to recover the jackets. On the train you want to ask the names wagon wagon to all children. No one answers! "What's your name?" Ask the women of the Committee, but the kids turn their face. But then carry the bread and languages \u200b\u200bbegin to melt. "My name is Giuseppe, Giuseppe Russo," "I Maria di Girolamo ... I've got so years," says another opening his hand with five fingers extended. When his turn, as Paul says in a low voice that no one hears and Michael is compelled to repeat it. "What beautiful eyes," says the guard by lifting the chin with a finger, "most of the blue sky." Paola face down with force, because it is what he always says his mother.
It takes hours before, lists in hand, unable to identify them all and sew other numbered plates, this time directly on clothes. If you just want to talk to are convinced by a trick: "Anto '" they shouted through the cars until one turns instinctively do not feel called, "Then TTU Antonio," and the stitching him caught on the fly to the plate. The last two, one male and one female, are identified for exclusion. "Why did not you meant to say that Ciro was your name?" Asks a woman of the committee that the child does not utter a word grumpy, "you are dumb, perhaps?". The kid looks tough, "He had to be cracked or ddic Nomme my" before closing the answers in his silence.
Finally the train is moving and shaking all at each other to get heat, while the women go between the cars to bring blankets and comforting words.
not nobody crying, more than any child complains in his sleep. Paola
brother who looks at the sniffles, sleepy. The mother has been advised to look after him until you stick together and fight off sleep until Michael, lulled by the rocking of the train, does not collapse all rolled up like a kitten. Only then closes his eyes es'addormenta Paola.

They woke up in Reggio Emilia.

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's race voided

If only I think about it now. If you only think about how ashamed I felt, in the very long half hour, I am overwhelmed by a rage so deep, gnawing by such a liver, that no time can never erase, despite Brillane degree in psychology and psychosomatic publications on Riza.
He and his damn race voided.

That morning, the distinguished Professor Dr. Mastrangelo, vice-rector of the Faculty of Medicine, an expert in neuropsychiatry and president of my examination committee, had greeted me with an expression of arrogant enough to irritate a saint, let alone I.
I was able to stay still, sitting motionless in front of him without making them cry, just because it forced me to concentrate on his wig, a reddish obscene, and the fact that he fell to pieces, who was in the curve descendant of life, gave me an atavistic sense of security.
"So miss, I speak of these stages."
Ok. Calm and concentration. Phases. I know the stages. "Du ... then" start stuttering, mouth so dry that even in the middle of the Sahara, "basically are three phases: oral, anal and phallic ..."
"'Genital is more correct," she corrects, "not only happens to boys "
says" boys. " Who is it that says "boys"? But he does, sfotte?. M'impappino immediately, "No, yeah, right, genital, in fact ... so ... pretty ..." I try to recover, "first occurs in the newborn, which in fact tends to put their fingers in his mouth and eat anything they come across, and the second is ... almost ..."
"practical or theoretical?" he inquires with an unbearable air by spin doctors, "please, you save catch all these unnecessary," and I, "And ... yeah, right, so ... so ... I was saying ..." I could not remember what I was saying.
"We talked about the anal phase," he says with an evil grin stragatto style.
How is it that this man is a doctor and save human beings? "I asked as he kept talking, "takes pleasure in hearing it from incorporating, it suggests not only the need to eat, but also a desire of a sexual nature ..." he said, treading the words "in the anal phase the child eroticized other parts ... up, go ahead ... "I had
the Po Valley in the brain, and a single application shone in the middle: Why the hell I brought Freud?
torment the sweaty hands I try to go "Yeah, well ... the second, the second phase is that ... that ..."
"Anal, we have already said," he says with a psychotic expression.
"already ... analeanale anal ..." I repeat I am stunned, as in those stupid games that make you repeat a word that seems pointless many times in a row until you realize that you're saying something vulgar like "ion". I
Body temperature was increased by about three degrees within two to three seconds, I had covered a thin sweat everywhere and I began to seep back.
was my exams, shit. It was going very badly and most talked about holes in the ass with a man rather than an adult, a doctor, damn it, he was there to judge, with the balance of power inexorably that hung on his side.
"In this second phase ..." tried again, trying to think of a any suitable synonym. Aware that he could not even bear to mention again that damn jew orfizio on which the psychiatrist had based half of his theories, "in this second phase the child is the exciting moment when the parents ... especially that of stimulates the opposite sex ... well ... this area ... for example ... during the diaper change ... the child may even have the urge to eat their own feces ... to ... um ... an instinctive pursuit of pleasure. "
Oddioddioddio. I said that shit is nice to eat? Seeking to recover, "Freud describes the infant as a being already capable from the first days of life, to feel erotic, until about four years old, after suffering a quiescent until puberty ... shifts the focus ... "
" Miss, this concept is a bit 'confused, wants to be more precise, I do not know, give some examples? "
" I wanted to say that the baby ... well ... the child "were things that I knew, I had repeated without any problem, even my father, just two days before, porcamiseria.
"Maybe he wants to say that holding and releasing the baby's excrement sensitizes the urethral and the anal area by activating an additional source of pleasure?"
"Yes, yes, indeed ..." I whisper now the color of the radish.
"Miss ..." he tried to register my name in front of him, slid the index list, found him, "... Ms. Onorato, does not seem very prepared, he never saw the boys when they get in line and compete to see who sends voided farther? "
" Which? "I said shocked, trying to recover the memory that something steered me to an understanding, if not total, at least for guidance of the subject matter .
Mitto voided, I thought frantic, Mitte, from Latin, Mitte, issue, let go, throw out, what the hell is the race of the voided porcaputtana?!
"The Miss voided, the cast, as she calls it?" He became impatient "Those races are the kids between them. Not one has ever seen? "
No, I had never seen, I would have had to respond. I should say that my friends were competing to see who was there the longest, who drank the most beers in one evening or perhaps to those who could get more girls in a summer, but this race I had just voided never seen or heard, perhaps in his time, I should say. That night I dreamed
five Huckleberry Finn, a straw hat on his head, dropped his pants and peas in hand, trying to overcome the piss a line made of sticks. I ran back and forth, brandishing a tape measure.
Maybe it was something like you meant, I was never particularly clear, it was not for any of the committee. Maybe if it was only invented to embarrass.
I graduated with a sad 41.
The shame was never washed.

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One day, a man with beautiful blond mustache told me - I want to be a director -. He said
now so decided.
I thought it was very charming, as if he had said astronaut or a dancer, whereas the same cynical vague chance of success.
A few nights later, in a scene by candlelight, on a bed with sheets burgundy-red, murmured kidnapped "You are beautiful in this color."
"Shit, director inside" I thought.
I realized then that he was serious, or at least acted as if it were really believed, had the right direction, the right attitude.
I want to be a director.
I want to do.
I want. I
. I felt ashamed
tremendously.
I, on the contrary, I often hide, I always get distracted, I let myself be swayed, I say, I'm not so sure.
Displaying the time and talent wasted in towers Smemoranda thick dense, as if it were impossible even before you begin. Without courage.
a girl was always the same story sound like a great book, do not put the subject, I do not follow the most, I'll explain a real shit and I quote Gibran down to half of what I say is incomprehensible, but I say that the ' other half comes pure and crystalline.
Not much has changed since then. My difficulty has remained more or less the same. I can not explain myself well, to make decisions quickly, m'incarto as I speak, I make serious errors in spelling, I invent things, evade responsibilities, I'm fucked. Always been a girl of eight, ten maybe.
But I tried to distract myself from the idea, for a very long time I have not even considered a realistic possibility but who do you think you are?
I swear I've got evidence, to support projects that seemed most interesting, useful, fun, socializing, practical and consistent. We always try to hold off my nature. She's not really sweet, caring, condescending, like me, is irresponsible, selfish, dangerous, naive, fierce. A little girl, what a shame.
I can make the bride, the daughter, my colleague, the other part of the apple, the missing link, the useful part, but I want first of all to write in peace.
Virginia Woolf is right, you need a room for himself and I thought he is unable to you never write anything worth reading. Maybe I never really looked (shame increases exponentially).
everywhere I go and I'm always passing through. What is wrong with me? Why do I always find myself with my legs slowly sinking in the quicksand of interesting projects that are not for me?
are nearsighted, but do not wear glasses. I always read with very little light, alone, when I should / could sleep, and I have always written everywhere, even on trains, flights, car seasick in the street. If there is no computer in pencil, my favorite, although it is not the only scripta manent, it does not matter, I do it always, since I remember munching after getting fucked while crying.
in 4th grade I wrote a poem in rhyming couplets entitled The pin Chamomile. He told incredible adventures of an unfortunate badge of mercy. The emphasis
declamai with my girlfriend of the heart, during the interval, and we laughed so much to piss on him. What made us laugh even more, struggling to quit.
around this problem we ran into the bathroom, we took off our wet panties and hid, locked in a plastic bag, obviously in my portfolio because I was the most disorganized.
remain in a state of total happiness for the whole day, giggling all the time, repeating the and taking steps funniest screams at the top of the teachers. That day we were invited to dinner at the home of a friend of ours and after eating revealed the secret. She was shocked so much that he insisted earliest two of his. What gave me I still have, as a warning You can not go around without pants, not you, that's all.
My father once said to think big, I still remember. He says things like Ginger Rogers did the same thing as Fred Astaire, but with a skirt and high heels, then when I explained that I was doing and also why I was fired, has injured thumb and forefinger together as a say "and the money?".
My mother, however, is a manually very clever woman, good at drawing, pottery works, creates forms. After that I for years I avoided like the plague his lab, I heard that someone said to me 'It' craftswoman of the head, no hands "as to justify myself, and I would not be sorry.
Maybe he wanted to say I'm one of those who may not show it to you, but maybe I'll write.
However, the first and only time I have paid in a nutshell a bullshit article, I felt great, even if the euphoria was short-lived, time to consume the money. But he did peep a little 'pride.
Everything becomes more powerful, it's like a shock, a circle it closes. When my
fomento tragic side are one of those who like to be a bit 'wrong, a fancazzista, too.
The lump in my throat every so often there yet, but I can finally take the piss, tirarmela a crazy, put "writer" in space to indicate where there is "Occupation" (as if writing was a job). Still struggle a bit 'to take me seriously, there is still an embarrassment, discomfort is not won, but I'm writing.