Freiberg's Disease Surgery Recovery

Manchester, oh Manchester...

...Gli Smiths, Morrisey, gli Oasis, la musica, la cheescake, le nuvole, la pioggia. Accidenti alla Sig.rina Rottermayer, perchè diamine sono nata a Latina? Perchè diamine sono conosciuta (non io in particolare, per inciso) in tutto il mondo per la trecchi di bufalai, mandolinou, Maphia (no phlaminio, incidentally edddue) and pizzai?

Here I am in an evening latinense but also a little Mancunian, thanks fir Lorraine and Dominique (who does not write to chellosò franGess, incidentally etttré).












What is in gray cardigan Dom!


As three in the morning, I greet you. I am strangely in a nutshell!

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Doveroso post post natalizio.


postnatalizio Here's my post, post-dated, delayed, post-aged ...? Hmm ...
Well, I have here with me the latest issue of "Ti models", a famous newspaper in the diet post-Iccio or postqualcos'altro (I entered the tunnel of the post, but you do not say anything). Title: "-15 pounds from 27 December to late afternoon of 31". So after six pm went to buy that little black dress that makes you so much "tube of marinated sardines on sale" because it miraculously there will be something there (cited in cultured adapted). Via the post-umi swallowed whole vessel on the evening of the eve, by the bleating of grazing Christmas lunch and away the billions of chocolates, fruit dry, panettone that you scaccola raisins (raisins, but it is already plural? raisins do not say it?) and candied / or the toast of champagne and sparkling campaign (too sparkly, whereas a dry eye as if they had three cases of drinking coca-cola or if you had a blast at the height of pollen period), the tastes (just to taste a little ... st) of all the chocolates piled on the table: gianduitti, nougat, orange stripes with the pack of dark chocolate and bla bla bla.
So, translated into the measurement of ESD will be at least 2 or 3 pounds of Rotoloni Queen of softness.
Translated into my language: I do not want to hear about food from here till the end party-controlled radio.
And to honor this promise-threat, today I have given a sensual white risotto that makes a lot Dr. House, and go with the tango. And then I
I care for my cholesterol, as my friends in the photo (post) heat.

Happy Easter to everyone.

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Natale in quel di Toys.





Last post on December 3. But this will never end in December
slut Peppa?
job, people start to go mad more and more as it approaches the birth of the little boy and his friends donkey and ox. They enter the toy store that seem desperate: all sweaty, with trolleys full of useless things (l'ultima che ho visto è stato il babbo natale a grandezza naturale che spara la neve e canta canzonicine incomprensibili con la voce uguale a quella di Cristiano Malgioglio) passeggini e bambini urlanti, con liste lunghissime e poca voglia di cercare. Allora ti si buttano addosso e ti chiedono 167636876879 cose al secondo, e tu vorresti avere un telecomando, premere "pause", aspettare che tutti si immobilizzino e urlare: "Sapete che c'è di nuovo? Andatevene nel paese delle renne voi, Cristiano Malgioglio, e la Winx!".

[...]

Ok. Che dicevo? Cristiano Malgioglio...uhm...si, delle liste dei giocattoli.
L'altro giorno una felice e decorata coppia di nonni arriva da me e da Cri, l'altro commesso the store, and makes us: "Excuse me, did you skate?".
We, in unison: "You must go to the sports section, gentlemen, here in this department there are."
And the sweet old lady, always in unison (to us because we like it): "Ah, but then we were wrong shop Franco."
Cri and I, we looked at, full of compassion, and we left.
In all this, which is tomorrow-Thursday, to remind myself-I have an exam and I still have to finish to come back (and study, perchènnnò) almost anything. And
ultimis (Since it was the first place and secundis) I'm fighting with puzzle pieces by Klimt that is making me lose the right: all flowers and women wrong (it is said also abstract, but here on this side are we really down to earth). I'll never stop? For posterity will judge.
Ah! In ultimiss ultimiss I got tickets from The apostrophe for January 12 at the Auditorium of Rome. Contentment from under me I can!

Greetings from Cristiano very glam.

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Un negozio di giocattoli.


First question: what is the place where children believed the world was a surprise and large-as parents-believe money is the site of suicide?
Well, since Friday I'm working there, and I will do everything for the Christmas period.
Second question: you know who are the Winx?
Holy saints! They are the fairies with the body by Pussycat Dolls, Barbie hair, and wings ... from fairy-obvious-because somewhere something from the fairy there will even have.
Where I work I have a crow flies in size. She looks at me, it seems almost say, "Ahhhhh I saw you attack a ciuingam while under the shelf! And I bet you did well in school, under the counter!" (My desk was nicknamed "The cemetery in Brooklyn." Not the bridge, of course).
I hate Winx.
And apparently not the only one.
Have you ever seen a desperate person? Ie: 've never seen a grandfather holding the list of gifts for the grandchildren?
"Excuse me Miss, may I help you? I have a sheet full of names Winc, Wic, Winky, these Bambocci here ... but what do I look?"

I take the paper and I read things like:
Winx interchangeable wings. Nell'astuccio wings for every occasion! From the gala dinner at the picnic on the mountain Terminillo.
Winx you sing! You can vibrate the wings and listen to new tunes Winxiche!

Winx in the kitchen! Detach the wings are made of marzipan! When they finish, go and see mamma!
Winx skiers. On box is the large face of Alberto Tomba who tries to put the Mon-to Boot Winx red. It also helps you to Alberto nascionèl!
Winx coloring! In the box you'll find the dolls are completely white. Armed with brushes and paints and activate your imagination! Bring out the (Pi) in cash in you!

looked up, meeting one of the desperate little man who looks at me expectantly.
"He knows that there sir?" We once c'avevamo stones, the sticks and nothing more. We played hide and seek. Today, children think that hide and seek is a small flat! Got it sir? "They want to ste Winc , Wicky or comecavolosichiamano! "
nod. The grandfather continued his research into the large face of Alberto Tomba. When will you realize that Albert is really but really ugly.
To each his own.

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Orso Yoghi all'orizzonte.


Here is the useful post!
had been away for a while, all taken from high society parties, "shampagn" that flows in rivers, in uips ognidddove, stalwart ... Okke big man, the tears.
I have a cold. But not any cold, but cold.
sign that I, in life, I do not ever want to miss anything (sorry, I would like) the best. Only the best of what I really do not never arrive, while better than what I would not always get the onion ... oh God, but I'm saying? Scattered
Home tissues such as small pieces of bread crumbs of Hansel & Gretel, not sleeping at night because of the guilt for all the uprooted trees to collect my Mocciola.
The parable of the differences of life: some guests, host, hosting wonderful words written by the most famous writers of the world, the other host of a poor Mocciola affected.
Well, if you're thinking that other trees should be worse, I even thought I've got. They, however, devote a special quibble, you will agree with me on the delicacy of the topic. I
Elisiaca started to listen to.
Never mind that you do not you care. For me it's an important thing! Lately my ears, for whatever weird voodoo ritual, the despised, tried another, other emotions, other melodies, ohh word. More.
Now I miss her, I missed a stroke as one does with his poodle Cidda, open them (now I should say "smell the paper," but I do not feel a ficus benjamin), and dream. As I have always done.
Thursday I'm going to hear Patrick Laquidara. I will be a huge sneeze on "Balance is a miracle," everyone will run, and I'll show all the teeth, even those at the end of the trial.

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Festival dei trigliceridi.

returning from a baptism. If only I had not been sure it was just a christening, I might as well think that we were celebrating a wedding, the wedding of gold, bronze, silver, diamond, topaz, of silver and carbon ( for the most unpleasant). All along, of course.
Here's lunch, something very tricu tricu (to remind me I'm screwed the menu at the restaurant, probably incornicerò as proof of participation in the marathon Niu fish):

The coccheteil welcome (a 'whole form of Grana Padano carved directly from Mastro Geppetto, full of flags of every state the world - which flags would then be fatal to children, with the game "to see who is blind before," any kind of fried, diced ham as big as the Lego cubes, celery stuffed with tuna, olives, mozzarella GM and bla bla bla, all washed down with a 'whole plantation of grapes).

The hot and cold appetizers : fishes of all kinds, a braid of buffalo mozzarella that he would burst with envy Rapunzel (and also the prince, tie), other fried foods on which I have not even laid the eye, for avoid falling to the ground in agony and bla bla bla.

risotto with scampi with lemon scent of the Sorrento coast : It was like a bite to eat or swallow the Arbre Magique Nelsen degreaser.

paccheri The harmony of sea : twenty-five minutes I thought good about who has the interesting character who deals with the names of the dishes (sea of \u200b\u200bharmony What the hell does that mean? That eat them, and suddenly you feel lighter? Paccheri hallucinogenic mushrooms are filled with chopped parsley, to throw off?). For posterity will judge.

The fried shrimp and calamari : awful scene. Children who took the rings and prawns them into your ears by way 'of earrings (you see what it means to see "Pirates of the Caribbean" with Gionni Dep their age?), Mothers sull'orlo di una crisi di nervi che non riuscivano a correre dietro ai loro pargoli, evidentemente appesantite. Poveri gamberi, mi sono detta. Cornuti e imapanati.

L'insalata riccia con il pomodoro pachino : è soddisfacente sentire signore un pò attempate, con i lobi delle orecchie quasi fino al pavimento per l'improbabile peso dei loro brillocchissimi orecchini, dire: "oh, finalmente qualcosa di leggero, almeno anche oggi non ho saltato proprio tutto tutto tutto quello che la dietologa mi ha schiaffato nella dieta". Massì, arricciamoci il calzino e vai col tango.

Il sorbetto al limone : il must di queste occasioni. L'elemento più acclamato, la colonna portante di ogni event. It owes its fame to the certainty of drinking and flatulence immediately issue an airline can awaken the squid and make them dance a salsa (though perhaps the last thing I would like to hear your name is the word sal-sa) in a row on the table ("Down here are all happy, darting here and there; instead on land the fish is very sad, encased in a ball that bad fate will be if the man will be a little hungry the fish Papper! At the end of maaaar in the fondoo maaaar "and bla bla bla, putting even a tie end. For the complete text, see" Songs of protest fishici edition Omega three).

pineapple maraschino : Half a pineapple carved Always trust by Geppetto. I imagined the old ladies to cheer for the fat would burn in quell'idilliaco time. Finally, a fresh pineapple and not to the taste of freeze-dried pills Ciupa ciups rhubarb! From all'untore! By the dietician!

baptismal cake: with plans of more-alas-"They were Tauers Tuin. One with good sight-not me, of course, could also see the elevators inside. It does not add anything else.

Coffee : just to understand, to those who still had any doubt that in that room there were eng (g) ian, flesh-and-bone-so-logical, few.

In all this, the real celebration, the baby has reached double ration of milk (double measure precisely because it is the "Baptism").
not bat an eyelid not?

Lynsey Dawn Mackenzie

La città sarà pure eterna, ma la pazienza ha un limite!

title already talkative, but a sign that I'm really really real real match (3, the razor) tired and confused.
Instead of rest so I vent, you pardonnnemuà age.
As of today, and sssiori ssssiore (indeed, the first ssssiore. Nonsiamai that ... I think it's feminist pfui) I have a certainty (which, logically, the first was a doubt. I remind myself to remind me what I should be out of zucchini): continue commuting for the duration of my sad college career. Exactly: I chose the lice, scabies, the smell of socks, bib of his neighbor, the nod of the head (you know those who fall asleep and wake up because of the charm of their head, autospaventandosi? Well, them), the stinks of the brakes (the sprouts compared Brucslelles know Grandma's freshly baked pie, oh yeah).
Now I am sure, after spending two days-too close-in "Eternal City". Okke Piaza Of Spagniai, Okke the Colosseou, Okke Treivei fountain, Villa Okke Borgheisei, Okke 'er Pinciou, Okke the Chinese with the fan built into the cap with visor (lapalissiano esempio di genio orientale anzichennò), okkei pizza margheruita, mandolinou, Crazie, Pregou e escusmi pliiis. Okkei. Oddio, sono stanca solo a (ri)pensarci. Sudore freddo.
Bello, tutto bello, tutto così romantico, tutto così biutiful staile...se solo fossi cinese, probabilmente.
Invece a me è toccato il temuto 64 (ho odiato i Bitols e la loro malefica canzone per tutto il tempo "When i'm sicstifooooor!"). Il 64 è l'autobus che porta a Piazza Navounai, passando per tutta Via Nascionàl. Qualcuno doveva averli cucinati davvero quei maledetti cavoletti, prima di salirci sopra. Mi sono ritrovata, inmenchenonsidica, con il naso attaccato al vetro, con obviously insane people who were trying, at every stop, desperate to climb up the damn contraption of marinated sardines. All this is topped by a heavy rain.
arrived where I had to get there, I realized that I could avoid getting there. Well. Trips.
Okke Veronica, Veronica're quiet, it's nothing Veronica, was not that long ago that you saw Piazei Navounaou Veronica.
Let's go back, dodging pigeon droppings inognidddove to resume 64.
My silent protest will not make the ticket, tie (any controller where the hell would come in, if you do not jumping from the roof a surprise?).
Same story, same place, same man entered the bar would sing. In fact, nose against the glass, marinated sardines, the smell of sprouts, torrential rain.
finally dropped out of the box with the wheels I realize I have lost hours. Running in the rain to go shopping. A sensual and aquatic zucchini, an eggplant round round (the eggplant is The Woman clothed with the purple, I decided), a pint of milk.
And then run to the supermarket to stock up on junk food to be consumed preferably before the end of Hello Daruin and before the Maurizio Costanzo Shoo (Shoo the series: "Why do not you take care of your wife, and their postal letters, and tronista vocaboline, and deliver us from evil Amen? ").
Home at last. A quick pasta at ten o'clock in the evening and away with Hello Daruin ('to Daruin, well done to you' nnnattene on Gallop (GOS) to study the iguanas, have abstained from witnessing 'I'm destruction, hello daruiin).
have collapsed shortly before the beginning of Mauritius, an obvious sign that my biological clock still does his job, a good boy.
following days (I swear that I finish soon, did you get here?) travel alarm clock, breakfast on the run, shower running, subway travel, travel by metro, in rainfall run-up, short stroke , bear, rsa, sa, a.
Epppoi 90, the hen sings, fear, or cossiddetto "serprentone. Pofferbacco! Two seats!
Arrival in power, yet another lesson assessment accordingly, class semi desert (what I came here to do? WHAT ARE COMING TO FAREEE?), Lesson definitely not followed, 90 egein, packed, time, train, packed, pendants, bib and pacifiers sock. The cattle car brought me back home.

Okke, I'm sleeping. I vented.

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Una domenica di fine ottobre.


A bit of background music, a cup of tea (always Coop, by the way) and the sun is out. Maybe today is not as bad as any self-respecting Sunday, maybe today is the first Sunday for twenty years now, not hatred of bias.

There is nothing better than being awakened by the shout of a friend who tells you he needs you. Not someone else, just you.
cabbage. He ripped a huge smile from his face and he warmed dramatically.
And it's nice to hear "Thank You" just to have given his opinion.

[...]

I leave below the text of a beautiful song I'm listening to a lot, whose melody I never get tired and makes me shiver all the time.

nice day.

Amie - Damien Rice

"Nothing unusual nothing strange
close to nothing at all
the same old scenario the same old rain
and there's no explosions here
then something unusual something strange
comes from nothing at all
i saw a spaceship fly by your window
did you see it disappear?
amie come sit on my wall and read me a story of old
tell it like you still believe that the end of the century
brings a change for you and me
nothing unusual nothing's changed
just a little older that's all
you know when you've found it there's something i've learned
'cause you feel it when they take it away hey hey
then something unusual something strange
comes from nothing at all
but i'm not a miracle and you're not a saint
just another soldier on a road to nowhere
amie come sit on my wall and read me a story of old
tell it like you still believe that the end of the century
brings a change for you and me
amie come sit on my wall and read me the story of o
tell it like you still believe that the end of the century
brings a change for you and me".

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Labirinto.


Just like a spy through smoke and lights
I escaped through the back door of the world
and I saw things getting smaller
fear as well as temptation.

Now everything is reflection as I make my way through this labyrinth
and my sense of direction
is lost like the sound of my steps
is lost like the sound of my steps.

Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog
Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog

I see my memories in black and white
they are neglected by space and time
I store all my days in boxes
and left my whishes so far behind
I find my only salvation in playing hide and seek in this labyrinth
and my sense of connection
is lost like the sound of my steps
is lost like the sound of my steps.

Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog
Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog

Words sounds music and I'm spinning in
Words sounds music and I'm spinning out
but I want to stay here
'cause I am waiting for the rain
and I want it to wash away
everything, everything, everything.

Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog
Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog

Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking
through the fog Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog walking through the fog
.

I feel free. I do not mean anarchy.
I'm talking about feelings, dammit. So strong, so controversial. One day you feel strong, you want to smash the world, the next day you're so on the ground that they have no desire to even breathe. And where is the sense in that?
keep me a thousand questions, to let the thoughts attach themselves to my mind, my heart, my belly, and I do not know how to get out of this maze that gives me so much anguish.
It all seems a huge trap, a joke.

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Già. L'essenziale è invisibile agli occhi.



back from a tiring day. I sit now and I think some of my things.
Today I left home at nine o'clock in the morning and went back at nine o'clock in the evening, more hungry than ever and with a desire equal to that of a bear in hibernation to speak.
E 'started the second course of this new academic year: assessment accordingly.
If you're thinking it's a dirty word in Abruzzo stop. It 's the matter a little all the professors, teachers, in short, the body of teachers should know, learning to put the ratings and to evaluate the student on the basis of objective criteria and not by the clock in the morning (of the Series: li clothes have faded because the Acchiappacolore Grey did not work allora metto due a tutti).
Il professore lo conosco già e sono contenta, nonostante sia decisamente esigente. Disponibile ma esigente. Un programma decisamente infinito, e vai col tango.
Prima di andare a lezione ho fatto una passeggiata al Vittoriano. Colosseo imponente dietro di me, i centurioni vestiti a festa con i calzari e, nientepopòdimenoche, i calzini di spugna bianchi. Cinque euro di foto ricordo di Roma per avere un tipo trucido travestito da gladiatore con i calzini di spugna. Questa si che è storia. Solo i cinesi possono cadere in certe trappole.
Insomma, stavo dicendo del Vittoriano. Sono andata alla mostra di Gauguin!
Centocinquanta opere che ripercorrono un pò tutto il suo vissuto pittorico, più lettere, sculptures, manuscripts. In short: great! At the exit I got groped by a bookmark with a beautiful Tahitian above, for the modest sum of one euro and fifty. Thaitiana or Gladiator? Terry socks or exotic women? Life presents us with these choices, damn!
seems so strange wriggle between sounds of car horns, exhaust fumes of buses and cars and people of Rome on the run, when up to two days ago, I was immersed in the autumn colors of a beautiful Val D'Orcia in Tuscany, a place forgotten by God and also by men. Five houses made of stone, sitting on wicker chairs Vecchini three pre-war machines that look suspiciously, a silence never found before. Only the sound of wind. E questi paesini con le case simili a quelle di Polly Pocket. E la gente cordiale.




La riflessione del giorno : stavo aspettando l'autobus, rannicchiata su me stessa dal sonno. Intorno a me gente di ogni tipo, con un' unica cosa in comune: una faccia triste, occhi persi nel vuoto e viso troppo serio.
Ma andiamo per ordine: di questo me ne sono resa conto dopo, non appena sono arrivate quattro donne di colore, vestite con i panni tipici della loro cultura -evviva i colori!
Si sono sedute, parlavano nella loro lingua. Una di loro deve aver detto qualcosa di divertente, tutte e quattro sono scoppiate in una risata contagiosa.
Era una meraviglia see them laugh! They have not stopped for a moment, spoke and continued to laugh, with tears in his eyes, and it was also climbed on the bus. In the end I laughed too. I did not understand a word they were saying, but put in a good mood. Yet the people around with their face hanging, he gave me the impression of being visibly annoyed by the laughter of those four spots of color. Some seem to think: "Why do not they stop messing around?".
And then I ask myself why people do not ride anymore? E 'can forget how to do?
[...] Even I laugh a little. It was beautiful to see them laugh.

Goodnight travelers,

Veronica

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Domenica.


Salve viandanti!
Son qui nella mia stanza che sorseggio té (thé, tea, Tiè?! Come accidenti si scrive!?) della Coop per un mondo equo e solidale (se andate a far la spesa alla Coop cercate sempre i prodotti che recano questo bollino, mi raccomando).
Dicevo, son qui che sbevacchio e ascolto Björk, mentre navigo per il mondo (in senso lato ovviamente, purtoppo) alla ricerca di date di concerti. Sul sito di L'Aura ho visto nuove date e per un attimo ho avuto il flash di andare a Trieste il 13 ottobre. Ovviamente sono rinsavita un momento dopo, posando l'occhio sul mio portafoglio, gettato in un angolo, buono solo per tenerci dentro le monetine da due cents.
Trieste è lontana, ma Firenze lo è un pò meno. Quindi forse farò un pensierino per il 26 corrente mese, a Firenze appunto, in occasione del Festival della Creatività sempre per Elle Apostrofo. Il link della manifestazione è questo: http://www.festivaldellacreativita.it/
Okkei, io in quanto a creatività sono una frana. Ma non stiamo a guardare il pelo nell'uovo. Guardiamo il pulcino.

Uff, ho voglia di andare a sentire concerti! Sono in astinenza da note musicali. Da quando il mio portatile mi ha lasciata -e in concomitanza hanno ucciso a badilate il mulo- son più depressa che mai, con poca musica a cui aggrapparmi.
In "Footprints in the web" I added a link to their blog, the blog of lists. It is to be a lot of laughter on a Sunday a little apathetic and pseudo-autumn (look that great color that picture!). Good evening

webbatici travelers.

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Opinioni di un clown.


a few minutes past midnight. I burn my eyes but I do not want to die in bed, not yet. I'm deserting them, these places feel so cold, and I am pondering the idea of \u200b\u200b(re) back to my old, dear, yellowed diary. I wonder how it happened that I had left there, among so many books never read, flip through magazines distractedly, as if it were integral part of the rest. Yet there are in there years of thoughts, fears, weaknesses, dreams. And it's funny, because I know that if everything is now back rileggessi those same fears, and perhaps even the same dreams.
At the end of the dance step is always the same: I should stop worrying about what is not (and will never, I might add) and be aware of what they are. In the years that have passed, what I built, of what I am surrounded, of what I let slip away, or "simply" I wanted to run away. Step
these moments of stasis, in which I totally block, while the outside world continues to spin around. And I am afraid, fucking a fear of not being able to keep up with everything. To lose pieces, continuously, or do not pay any attention to many things we would like to my attention.
I also wonder what on earth am I doing here I above, to shoot paranoia in 'air as if they were gunshots, and then press "publish post" and expect to feel lighter.
What idiocy.

seems unbelievable now, but I wish you good night, wayfarers.

Ah. I leave this link here http://www.marcellogambini.it
It 's a photographer discovered in a completely random (you know, the powers of this infinite window on the world), that struck me very much.

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Corri, corri, corri, Run ....

Wednesday. From Sunday to Wednesday and I have not even noticed.
This means that I have done nothing , and that nothing is worth being reminded of those days that everything seems less than in autumn.
I do not want to leave. Put your foot out of the house causes me some problems, yet there is this window on the world webbica me still the apparent feeling of not being quite dead.
But the brain, that is, that's totally full of cotton wool.
words, thoughts, fears, or simple boredom, exchanged repartee, drink orange juice and rub his eyes, looking at the big clock on the wall and realize that they are spending hours upon hours as well. Moments on moments, così.
Intanto ascolto "Fisherman's Woman", che mi riempie di malinconia, e che oggi voglio regalare a qualcuno.

Buona giornata a tutti i viandanti di queste sponde.

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Undergorund.


Velvet Underground. Rumori e schitarrate. Oggi va così. D'altronde è domenica, e io -per chi ancora non lo sapesse- odio la domenica. C'è un'aria che non mi piace, e la gente sembra quasi mettersi d'accordo per essere scorbutica e io perdo solo tempo in inutili pippe mentali.
Ora non ho nemmeno niente da fare fino ad ottobre e tutto ciò mi ovatta il cervello (ovunque esso sia in questo momento).
Anzi, maybe I should make the new curriculum this year! Except that, right now, hear about university gives me a rash on the joints.
Two exams in a week I have tried, without counting the number of strikes that means there's always like cheese on macaroni.
My laptop is still missing in assistance, but who does not care who is?
Meanwhile I let Nico continues to sing. I wish I had a time machine and take a big step backwards.

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Freaks. Conspiracy




Good day Good day. What troubled
night! Yesterday I went to sleep groped for the two to write a well done message above (which now will try to re-write) with a series of beautiful paintings. I do not know which of the stars, not favored me from publishing it. This morning about six o'clock there was a gardener cutting the grass, and he did it for a couple of hours, with that "BRRRRRRRRR BRRRRRRRRRR E" of the machine. Then I arrived and my aunts have had the bright idea to get a conversation - a voice far above the norm, in my balcony while I was trying to sleep with the window open for the heat. Then entered my father telling me "Sorry, eh, I have to send an urgent mail. In case you were sleeping". I do not write my answer, or I could catch a note on the register. Then the phone, which rang continually with no response. Then my father is (re) entered the room saying: "The first email has not arrived, the rewrite. So now you are awake is not it?".
These are those moments when I would much, but much, to live alone. My silence, the dust, my books, the phone off the hook, a cup of coffee drunk in bed with some music. Utopias, at least for the moment.

[...]

Good! But let us! Ssssiori Ssssiore and I discovered the existence of a talented painter (and last night's post was meant to be, in fact, Memorial). You
Camille Rose Garcia was born in Los Angeles in 1970. Shuffle graphics retro 'first animated film (in fact, is inspired by Walt Disney, among others) with the most' recent tradition of urban murals, screaming. Investigate aspects of decadence, deception and corruption of power through images fairy tales, populated by deer, princesses and aliens, cream cakes with black, crystal castles on which flutter sometimes, like crows claims, written provocative and denunciation.
No bellerrimi? A mix of "A Night Before Christmas" and "Corpse Bride" Tim Burton (**) and Disney's fantoccini old, the very first drawings clearly marked.
Epppoi colors are beautiful, textured, bright.




(**) Speaking of Tim!
Oh Tim! A friend of mine has kindly pointed out that in the not too distant future (end of 2007? 2008? For the difficult decision of audiovisual) will release his new film "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber 'with Jonny Deep. The film comes from a musical by Stephen Sondheim and Wheeler Hug in 1979 and tells the story of Ben Baker, a London barber full of Victorian era that went to prison for error, to avenge the slaughter practices of its customers and then prepare the tasty meat pies with his beloved wife and distribute them around the city. Veronica
very curious.









Heck, put them all!

Denise Milani Stream'

computer


My laptop, my beautiful black baby laptop, just two months, with the stripes on the floor as the Ramblas, has left me. I went to turn it on and happy and carefree Zac! Dead. Caput. It was the HP Pavilion (Pascal).
I can not do with a reason!
Why? Why deceived me, deluded and abandoned like this?
I knew I had to take it girl!
And now? All my hard work and university are kept in there for obvious reasons, I have to stick to the tram, as it usually says.
This is the price you pay for having complete trust in a machine! But then, heck, who do I have the confidence? Humans no, not the technology, myself, lately, much less.
today are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Indeed, we have already arrived.

Let no one speak to me of ram, bit, check, Dale.

Vè

Ciprolex Gastrointestinal

Sunny Road.


As someone says: Buonssalve!

There is great excitement in the air. Runs huge appetite for music of all kinds and from every continent, and books. A first and foremost, I have tried so-and found-and now read: The Little Prince. And then
countries, stations, mountains, hills, meadows and green trees. Desire to travel and take photographs. And concerts, exhibitions, festivals, films. Anything I awake from the torpor of that last summer in search of me, other, new things and things that I'm on the road, but never lived through.





If you are looking soft atmosphere, as you read a book in the light of a bulb, I recommend Emiliana Torrini (half Italian, half-Icelandic), especially the album "Fisherman's Woman". I discovered today. The sounds are very relaxing, gentle, and his voice reminds me a little that of Norah Jones, although this is extremely subjective sensations.

I wish you good day, anyone who passes by here.

Vè