Monday, November 22, 2010

I Want To Create My Kavithai

Even the slaves go to concerts (Interpol)



Now you're doomed to fight the brazen myths of your generation burned.




gggiovane When you were you were told - by those who do not remember, probably from Uan Snowman - that sick, was used to grow. So being a scorpion with literary ambitions, of course, who have assumed a strange propensity for crucibles in the darkest despair. But still claiming a large need for serenity. There must also be said, however, that at least when you were gggiovane, made you feel bad writing. Amenities of immeasurable indecency, however, made you write and you felt that somehow you were doing what they were coming to this dirty world (megalomania is a very ugly beast, luckily it comes to annihilate the world of work).




Almost 15 years you seemed to have 25, 40 and 18 you could hear it now, 25 are already in menopause. Some sort of upside Benjamin Button and with considerably less sex appeal of Brad Pitt. But the pain, that just bites you in the belly and I sit on my heart a bit 'like the wild boar that bizarre advertising laxative on the intestine ago - well that pain needed to get stronger, more developed peers (that ass ), was used to grow and impress the older males with disturbing your maturity. Wow.




At one point, but the fabulous mechanism patior, ergo sum "has stopped working. And now there's nothing constructive in the suffering of perversely / intolerance. Now it's a different battle, perhaps for the first time true and if a side seeks to address the other six hopelessly seduced by the idea of \u200b\u200brenunciation, withdrawal is not defeat intelligent.




thoughts are hatched for months and exploded last week, in random coincide with your menstrual cycle. Last Wednesday, after your nervous system has collapsed under the daily harassment from the person who uses (as usual, in short), after mystical crisis, crying hysterically, the elixir of frustration that even kindergarten when you made a crap on me and teachers have scoured the butt of all children to get to discover that you were the Shitter - lucky old days - you've tried one thing after ... and decided to resign after deciding that they do not have renewed, after you've heard her say things like:




"now you have to put all the energy you have!"


( beginning of royal jelly to me or I passed the cocaine from the company benefits, as is rampant in this post-modern metropolis?)


"I expect you to take this challenge! "


( but fuck, but did not have to fire me but bitch ?.... ...)


"is not enough, do not count for anything that remains until the evening to 20"


(uh. .. and I thought that he had abdicated my life made sense ...)


"if you want, you can!"


(and Venice is beautiful but I would live there)


"You are very good at writing ... is important but not sufficient"


(but should! And I thought that could live to write, but every day I came here to give you the most forbidden of the orifices as a hobby ... to be a writer because I get bored billionaire)


"this is a job all-encompassing"


(this is slavery total, you mean ...)


"but I think it's worth it ..."


(and I believe that you face punishment ...)


"now share it with all your strength!"


(sorry, but I was not s firing?)




After all this, you decide that you no longer touch the bottom of yourself as bad during the last week. So when you look at the writing on your right thigh, "Best before 31.12.10" you do not think you have to beat. That whatever will be, to address it. What if you do not renew, much better, as Tyler Durden would say.


What if someone responds to your CV posted an average of .15 to 1 at night, the better.


What if you do not change anything, you let things slide, and the day will not go over well, bon. Peace. Enemies as before. Goodbye.










Why more and more, in you, you hear the clear desire to rewrite your present. Dreams to fill a blank page again. And in the meantime, resist. But only until you make it. Then, "Where have you come u zipp'r chianti" as they say in your shares.




positive note last week was a concert of Interpol, which catapulted you right after the disaster training. There you go with the One and her man, his friend, his not-well-you-know-what. The FRA was your friend adoratissima University. Partner of concerts, of raids, of post-adolescent Paturnie and hypothetical trips. It was so reassuring to have the One as a friend. Have you met outside the office, you are gone from home and then straight to Palasharp. The beer drinking at concerts you do not why but induce an unusual stress to the bladder, and so, clutching his legs very well to clip the most natural physiological need, you listened to your Interpol, setting the stage lights and icy, staring at a tiny Paul Banks and ensuring that their music will invade and fill wherever possible, filling every space of your thoughts. Did you like, you like Interpol, but have found them a bit 'icy. There is, it is in their music, it is in their mind, do you think when you see between this one of those awesome feeling that sometimes can be seen between the band and their audience.




During the concert, however, want to talk to the One was great, from that last cafe two years ago, to know its Erasmus, of what he does, when you Bachelor, one that combines the others. And find that nothing still works, which are all still at university, you do get a strange feeling roughly summed up as: "Who the fuck did it do me?"




Then the show ends, the lights come on, the crowd starts to flow, and neither can you, you walk towards their car. With the promise - which will probably be disregarded, but what counts is the thought - to see you soon, perhaps at mgmt concert in December ... it will be even more fun.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Oxygen Blender Purpose

Damned menstruation. Damn Radiohead.






No Surprises.
Radiohead.
and guidance.
raining outside. In Milan it's raining. It's raining here forever, but Brandon Lee could not know.
With the elevated walk between the buildings, entering the homes of people, humanity intimate and misted the walls, broken intermittently by the holes of the blinds, which the North calls them "blind", just that you do not you can do to call them "blind", for you are and always will be "blind".
It 'Sunday, six on the second day of the cycle, you just leave half of the central station and plays Melinda in No Surprises by Radiohead while driving in the dark New this winter, under a light rain and uninterrupted.
And remember, you're always with you No Surprises made of incredible blunders, while driving in the dark of the winter southern winter was not with it's 16 degrees on average. Remember that centuries have passed since you were still blonde eyebrows ever since you were in order and went back home at night, the real home in those strange times between graduation and London, between London and the master, when you know that so comfortable that life would not last, they were just way, you'd be gone, again and again. Always try that feeling every move, every change. Every time a train, a bus, a plane will carried away, you see the lights of your clay soil vanish and breathe deeply, thinking it would come sooner or later, the day after you have not done any more effect.
Damned menstruation.
Damn Radiohead.
For the rest you've turned 25, which are not too many nor few. I am a quarter of a century, the turning point towards the 30, if not already showing that they are 35, but it matters little.
Despite cocoprofagia which you are a victim, you tried to organize the force, however, a dinner at home, discovering the substantial gap that exists between two people to cook and cook for 12. For your birthday in the office have even thought to make you the most desirable gift of all: a plant - in the light of your famous green thumb, that the only plant you have in your house has more medals to the value of a Vietnam veteran - and no less than 2 feedback, one from each end.
Historian boss told you that you (not in alphabetical order): arrogant, not humble, destructive, who treat her like a moron, who is afraid to ask things.
He added: "It is not enough to be a genius to be good writing."
You replied: "I'm not a genius about anything ...". Then you have been silent. Have you received. You apologized, promising that we'll work on that you keep forever room in order, that will always make the tasks that do not want the stuff or the husband of others who do not appoint more than God's name in vain and that no longer listens to rock music.
The second boss, for which you are overblown overblown as an edelweiss in mid-August on the coast road, which contribute to the boss every day to the sacred cause of unpaid overtime (and-even-have-bitch- -slacker!) grant by donating your mental health, well, the second boss told you: "I am very glad, for writing ... you see things on the fly, no, the communication mechanisms you express yourself ... well ...". And this is the classical FV (step Vaseline) which - as is known - is to make it less painful the next frontier of sodomy and professional, the so-called eco-friendly, for which your virtues are broken up with a beautiful Norwegian spruce tree.
So you were there, suspended between good and evil, anxiously awaiting the fateful "but" the exact same "but" you use when you want to give up some adorable boyfriend, perfect on paper, but you more or intrippa less as a drama channel 5 without Gabriel Garko.
"I love you ... blah ... BUT ... I'm at a stage in my life when ...."
leaders should study a bit of rhetorical constructions' most daring and less predictable. But it would be asking too much.
And, indeed, timely as it comes in the most squalid scripts:
"... is that sometimes I wish I were a bit 'more .........." and this replaces the black-out language, the complete annihilation of any property of language that causes the boss to avail itself of the gestural communication of the body to compensate for the apparent deficiency dialectical
both hands are closed, the two fists are combined in the same plane and are arranged side by side, with the palm parallel to the ground and begin to rotate, alternating ... exactly what happens to feet on the pedals of the bicycle ...
All this is enhanced by a strange grumbling, a kind of groan, as that could give a constipated hamster: mmhhh
Do you think that she intends to say that you should be faster, or smarter, which is a word much like in the professional world, "smart".
So begins the usual fight against your brain against nerve impulses that affect your facial muscles, absurd social mechanism by which you have in any way hide your thoughts to the head. And while you feel your soul split, fractured violently into two blocks:
1. wrath
2. discouragement cosmic
leaves room to discouragement and answer: "I do not know what I could do more of what I'm doing, I am working up to, but if you notice something wrong in the organization of my priorities, let me also this, so I can learn better ... " that is something to this manual, prove open to change and splatter image by B-movie run in your eyes and "This is the end" of the Doors playing in your ear.
And finally, in a small corner, a little of your person, there is a commentator sitting in an armchair, legs crossed, they say, is that "Mr. Intellect" that with a fair applombe and lifting the index points, slightly thrilled: "But after all, they give you 900 euro per month. And you're doing the best you can do. works every day in more than two hours due, multiplied by 300 days a year, taking an average of 10 hours per day, almost 2 months working in more than a year. "
Fico so! Yours is the first generation for which the thirteenth and fourteenth are understood in a mirror, not two salaries per year, but two more months of unpaid work.
You conclude that it is like when you were at the university unless you study, you were going better. On the other hand, now, more jobs, less you get. When you were not Fucking - compared to now - you were the queen of the powerpoint, the boy wizard of the Web, the genius of the press release.
Now you're not smart.
But, as they advise us down, we should also give thanks that, apparently, at least we "work" we have it.
Meanwhile've started to send resumes. For the first time outside Milan.
and dreams, undecided, Puglia and London.
Damned menstruation.
Damn Radiohead.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Australian Smiths Chips

start with Christmas ...


Rasa is already the Christmas season. Back to the traditional market dedicated to the Christmas holidays this year will be held Sunday, November 14.
From 10 to 18.30 in the streets of the country will be exposed to food stalls and crafts theme. During the day some events like music in the streets and courtyards. You can reach the market even with shuttle buses will leave from the Red Square of the Motta Rasa, where there is parking. At 10.30 am Holy Mass is planned. Packed with bars and pizzerias in the country. The event will take place in the event of bad weather.