Wednesday, October 31, 2007
What To Say To Stressed Out Friends
A professional writer is an amateur who did not give up.
Richard Bach
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
How Do I Make Ballet Shoes Cake
write my mother-in-law
My mother-in-law takes my children Saturday, on the other hand I hold his
every day!
Anonymous
My mother-in-law takes my children Saturday, on the other hand I hold his
every day!
Anonymous
Pokemon Beding For A Double Bed
navigate
navigate needful east, not necessarily live
is an old Latin proverb, which, like all things eternal is also used today:
surf the net is what is necessary, movement more than to live a real life.
or not?
Latins meant that the sea has a charm that, to be life itself, indeed the meaning of life, so as to break the need for anything else.
our sea is aseptic does not smell of fish and seaweed, it haunts us with dysentery and scurvy, but gives us the same evil, the same eagerness to seek and explore the desert attornao us, a liquid desert, information superficial or deep.
the same illusion to know people and things, to make us wise and experienced in life.
try the needs of our thoughts, desires stupid alarm, sirens beautiful fog that hide our lost happiness, which in reality does not exist.
is not given to us and even to the gods.
and it does not matter, what matters is to move, explore, watch the sunset and sunrise, never the same place.
navigate needful east, not necessarily live
is an old Latin proverb, which, like all things eternal is also used today:
surf the net is what is necessary, movement more than to live a real life.
or not?
Latins meant that the sea has a charm that, to be life itself, indeed the meaning of life, so as to break the need for anything else.
our sea is aseptic does not smell of fish and seaweed, it haunts us with dysentery and scurvy, but gives us the same evil, the same eagerness to seek and explore the desert attornao us, a liquid desert, information superficial or deep.
the same illusion to know people and things, to make us wise and experienced in life.
try the needs of our thoughts, desires stupid alarm, sirens beautiful fog that hide our lost happiness, which in reality does not exist.
is not given to us and even to the gods.
and it does not matter, what matters is to move, explore, watch the sunset and sunrise, never the same place.
Monday, October 29, 2007
What Does Crueset Mean
shoes
nothing but shoes.
lead us stuck in them all my life and do not rebel against our lack of cleanliness, dragged our lazy or rushed, never ask, but where the hell are we going?
beings milder horses and oxen, but the shoes live a life of their mysterious, when we lay in the evening where it happens, leaving a little catch his breath, then talk to each other, maybe dreaming, other passages, paths in a milder country where the roads are less tiring, dreaming of a paradise of their own, dreaming of being at the end of the trip, placed in a nice quiet board and bright that read: my shoes, SUMMER 2007-2008. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
but that is not the fate of any of us.
our fate is unpredictable, and ultimately there is no well-earned rest, no reward.
of this tough law this photograph is the exception: these shoes have brought people close to me and I dedicate them this modest celebration.
rest another winter, then next spring you will work till you drop, to a destiny that does not, as none of us ...
nothing but shoes.
lead us stuck in them all my life and do not rebel against our lack of cleanliness, dragged our lazy or rushed, never ask, but where the hell are we going?
beings milder horses and oxen, but the shoes live a life of their mysterious, when we lay in the evening where it happens, leaving a little catch his breath, then talk to each other, maybe dreaming, other passages, paths in a milder country where the roads are less tiring, dreaming of a paradise of their own, dreaming of being at the end of the trip, placed in a nice quiet board and bright that read: my shoes, SUMMER 2007-2008. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
but that is not the fate of any of us.
our fate is unpredictable, and ultimately there is no well-earned rest, no reward.
of this tough law this photograph is the exception: these shoes have brought people close to me and I dedicate them this modest celebration.
rest another winter, then next spring you will work till you drop, to a destiny that does not, as none of us ...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Welcoming Salon Clients
Vacuum
a kid I wanted to keep a diary.
I never did. Perhaps because she had allegedly
time, and nothing to write important.
I preferred to run, jump, play with friends.
I was a thoughtful child.
I liked to play games silent, lonely and quiet.
create armies of soldiers, kingdoms and empires on the atlas of my great grandfather who bring the world of 1936 and that I was allowed to scribble at will.
did not have time for a diary.
grow up then, with the advent of weblogs I have created a series my space, but without being able to be really me:
I have to prove something to someone, to have to be cool, much cooler here than in real life.
Enough.
I want to talk to me.
indeed abolish first the case at least at the beginning of the sentences after the dot.
so I write faster, so much to you that you care, if the case?
to begin with I mean my sense of emptiness.
I have an empty feeling.
I no longer love.
mean love women, love the woman I loved.
I love people who love each other naturally, children, mother and father, brother. that there is merit in this? That does not mean to have feelings, how strong I love these people.
emptiness in my soul is not like most others, outsiders.
you, I'll call it, she just, she loves me damn, but I do not feel anything. They're not love.
me tenderly. I flat-spotted yesterday in the face of all the evil that I have done, especially as I badly rewarded his love and devotion.
and I have not felt anything.
is the void in me, insensitivity.
at this time I want to stay elsewhere, on a boat in the sea.
scent of seaweed and rotten, and sea gulls, creaking axle gears.
do not like fish. stinks.
rum but yes, the sea, and mermaids.
I'm on my boat by myself, with rum and sirens.
to hell with the rotten fish.
when I'm bored Slowly return to Haiti. There is a small port there, a principle of freedom in a country slave who broke his chains to be closer still chained, but is free inside. fearless as a lion.
sooner or later will be free again.
Cross of Guevara
of Paul Laraque
Haitian poet in exile, who died recently .
Christ was born in Pampa
Christ cracked
Christ of Guatemala guerrilla
avenging Christ who drove the thieves from the temple of Christ crucified in Cuba
who lives in Bolivia
us for a lifetime of freedom
Christ Christ of peasants and workers
struck at the heart of Christ men are fighters
and what they do with your death we resurrected
(From The sand exile, Multimedia Publishing, 2003, Salerno, translated by Giancarlo Cavallo)
http://www.sagarana.net/rivista/numero15/poesia8.html
image by Hypericum
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