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raining and it's Christmas. And there is no real reason why I'm writing this word with initial capital letters.
There is a smell around, but only that.
There was a beautiful song of curiosity and indissoluble union, one of those moods where I think I can not leave, a chain that does not break even with all the weight of running time, of what has already fled, than even you never lived. This strange smell still lingers and lacks substance, missing expectations, after hearing lies between the body of a missing person's mind and all the others, lack of security, lack of normalcy that sound simple, non-acidic.

E 'was a mistake, my mistake: all the chains can break, all the atmosphere be covered with moss, perhaps becoming rancid. Well

Much of the time he escaped before I could live it.
Much of the time he fled.
Time is running again.
And every second step is to write a piece of this fragrance liberating running, escaping over time, in time, in a vacuum. Some
lives decide to run away without warning, open roads and to choose is a matter not of consciousness or intelligence, to choose is a surplus of mind is a useless pastime, a transparent mirror in which I can not see me. Not
I can see me.

But around me someone who can see me in the mirror must be there. To guide me, I trust. Tender
hand hold, continuing to hear these stealthy, quick steps around me: runs away.
raining, it's Christmas and at the same time it's Christmas, idiocy that bites: internal and external mix forever.

whisper and still feel a warm scent, but only that.

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Bum.

'm back. Without the hope that someone might be interested, or that anyone ever read these lines, But I felt a need to go above.

I'm back with something new as you can see: I opened a new section, Thoughts striped , and I gave this a refresher blog. External changes due to internal changes, or rather "internal extension".

We feel on these pages, dear reader, but non-existent source of emotional survival daily.

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dagli Aquabats a Rogue Status


From even a couple of years, a hundred meters from the seafront promenade in Venice , there is a sign new, small shop, with a black Scion entirely in graffiti. Minimal exposure, attendance to say the least colorful. E 'and for now only the new flagship Rogue Status , the new play of Travis Barker (but does anyone remember the Aquabats?) And Rob Dyrdek, who have embraced the idea of a pair of designer dating back to 2005.
The combination of the two minds is lethal. Barker has decades of experience with Famous , skateboarder Dyrdek is more Hollywood than the time film in the sense of the word.
Rogue Status The collection is still small, from 2010 appear more consistently in Bergamo, but for winter 2009 we have only a few pieces.
The head better suited to the fall in temperature is certainly a reversible sweatshirt with dual personality. The earnest nature is outside the bank, a classic all black with small Rogue Status logo embroidered on the chest. A sweatshirt so simple that you might as well put it to Christmas dinner.


Within the tee instead of pushing the gangsta party, with the most well-known pattern of RS. Pistols, rifles, machine gun, a taste loooong Los Angeles, that our best model (Ramon to his friends) has led with courage on the streets of San Bernardino. Obviously, we have avoided via Moroni, where the bullets whistling by the three already in the afternoon, to safeguard their safety.



You can meet Ramon, watch Rogue Status, and stand as a model and
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THUNDER

Elected again Skater of the Year by Thrasher, 4 years of a previous appointment, Chris Cole left just a couple of signs in 2009 ...
Berrics? Chris Cole
Dew Tour? Chris Cole
Maloof Money Cup ? Chris Cole
Back To The Berg ? Chris Cole
Even the readers of Transworld have awarded a few months ago.
And to celebrate, Chris also change the design of its pro-model for Thunder, the house brand of truck Deluxe (Antihero, Real), that the skater of the team Zero devotes two other design.

Without departing from the axis Thunder / Thrasher, I finally got a good excuse to revive the link to the map of tattoos Antwuan Dixon, 64 at the time of the count. Also new for him with Thunder essential paisley pattern.

In this Erik Ellington seems simple and elegant even with the new Slaughter green / purple ... These and other Thunder, high and low, wide and street, are new arrivals in. ..
Bomboclat , via San Bernardino 1d, Bergamo

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The Kids Will Have Their Say


If 16 and Pregnant is a drive to look at direct interest, you may be interested in the toddler's Etnies . Dedicated to babies already a bit 'grown up, are basically sandwiches with velcro and fake strings.
I can say with complete peace of mind that are really cool. Bring along a granddaughter with these shoes is like having a husky on a leash in the tanks on Saturday afternoon, really, you earn 100 points in tenderness and sympathy.
After the counseling you can switch from
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aZ





Zapan .. but then you want war?

All right, then do not get me out of the excuse that you're stuck in some Pacific atoll, and no one has warned that the war was over ... not listening ... you've wanted you ... I'm pretty ? I'm pretty right? Well look at me well because Zapan Enola Gay comparing past will seem like a comb on your little heads yellow ... I have been calling me on my blog? No answer me, answer me all the billions who are together, I have been calling me? No right? So what about Zapan? I was not there for you even in the sad days of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I will tell you more there was not the author of my life, the mi papa to be clear, would come seven years later, in 52 Zapan understood?
So fuck you want from me, love me is an urge to take up the blog? No, but I say, what the fuck could care? I hope you will have quite different problems. You have also qualified for the World Cup and there has not said so well, we can not say that there is a group easily happen ... and then think about what Zapan diocristo, I can not stand every two days to delete your comments advertising that even more open, but not out of laziness ... well ... dicks are for my laziness Zapan, go somewhere else dirty power ... two abreast and ride ... no shit no two abreast I jammed the Gothic Line, in order do Sparse is better, the important thing is that there leviate by the balls ...

and then ... and then you try to resist that wave of heat, a chemical in revolt and everything that goes with it ... you Zapan in existential terms, but also others, let this be enough life installments of small pleasures ... you would like to resurrect resurrect resurrect resurrect ...

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My mouth was bitter, bad breath, it makes me wake up in a foul mood. I wanted to open the window, but the handle was missing, the windows in the street I saw that there was a dog. Around me not even a hum. I attack the bell. A beautiful nurse in their sixties:
"Tell me dear?"
"Coffee, is it possible? And change the air?"
"I think both of us, I ask the doctor."
was speaking, he returned with coffee and handle.
"Here you are at home, I am at your service, the doctor is a very nice person, you'll be fine."
"I save them for a few pleasantries imbecillotto dazed by drugs. I'm here because my father is full of money, otherwise I would not be even in a hospice field."
"First, do not you have brought the police, or a straitjacket. Second, this is not a hospital nor a clinic. Third: since you agreed to host you, we work together. "
" cooperate. "I held out my hand disappeared into his mine.
" This is called "open house", there are in Europe, even in America. We have a motto: "Here people but do not enter situations." People inside me, you, the cook, the porter, the doctor, who strive, each within its capacity to resolve these "situations" that range from a paralyzing as exciting as a Scolopendra those amphetamine. Everything ok? "
" Okay! But it makes me a little present this "open house" is open to enter, since there are no handles to get out ... but for some guests
...". "I'm your handle - with a voice of mom - I would be the handle that opens your heart, your mind ... You are at your disposal, we want to do a chat? ".
The white hair was wavy, clean tidy. Inspire confidence." I open "I said. I wanted to confide." I have my ideas, I just want to get out of the pumpkin and when they do not conform to the dictates general like all the ideas are not framed, are considered dangerous. To tell you the truth ... what's your name? "
" Tosca ".
" I can not wait to take off my head from certain fixations, it is not my fault that the world is full of trouble, I certainly would not let work it. "
" Unfortunately! ".
" But when you find a Later, when he captured the audience ... I can afford to rent conference rooms ... when you have a feedback, what comforts you, encourages you to go forward. "
" Oh yes, we are gratified when ...".
"From man to man almighty powerful, this was the theme of my last debate."
"What do you mean? ".
" It means that man has achieved such power and knowledge, to make a comparison, is identical with the Renaissance Art and Culture Humanities. Today, man is conscious of these values \u200b\u200bachieved and, by some, is frightened, fascinated by others: see the arsenal with which it is possible to destroy the globe, see the achievements in the medical field as transplants, genetic make a miracle and, lastly, space research, in full fibrillation.
I had taken the solemn voice reserved for another audience, nor the enthusiasm for other audiences, nor the vocabulary necessary to act. Tosca seemed fascinated why I should not be dispersed, or professor, I had to illustrate and simplify.
"I gave you a smattering powerful man? ".
" Oh, yes! Yes ".
" Good. Since forever, but there were formerly based justifications that we call fear, ignorance and so on. man has overlooked an important part of his brain, leaving atrophy. Only a few, over the centuries, however, fiercely opposed, sought to explore and reappropriate those faculties. "Tosca
showed signs of slight nervousness, calmed down with a wave of his hand, I soon came to the point.
" I'm talking about extra-sensory faculties with which the mind can inhibit the nervous system and let us transcend our physicality. Understand? ".
" Like those who walk barefoot on hot coals without burning your feet? "
" Brava! Like those, but there's more: in that portion of the brain, there is everything that goes by the magic occultism, parapsychology from hypnosis, a string of words that evoke in us more than anything else because the cialtroneria and quackery ' ignorance has served up in fear and awe. In Indeed, many scammers have been sold as a panacea for our anxieties, our nightmares, it's time to take back the bullet in the brain that sopiva us and we have our "witchcraft".
Tosca mossettine and was all giggles, did not understand well if he needed to go to the bathroom, if he liked me or if it was a symptom of a veiled sfottitura. I did not like. assumed a more serious tone.
"You certainly heard of Brahmanism, Buddhism, meditation, concentration, zen, nirvana, of doctrines, rituals, ascetic philosophies, sublimation e. .. I did not come anymore. Behold, these words are more serious, meaning lit dottoroni fine. You know what these are for me words? They are our acupuncture syndromes. The resources are all in our brain, scoviamole, and impadroniamocene autocuriamoci. If this man does, will become omnipotent.
The emphasis of the voice was shaken, he did well to take my show of tone as a reproach. No longer tinker with your fingers. In her eyes I saw confusion and concern, maybe I was already gone out of the sow had heard some thick, back here where I sort of bald, but I never realized I was not to argue with the logic of my argument. His pupils were dilated, his eyes were blacks.
As a young man must have been a beautiful baby girl.
I lay on the bed with his hands behind his head, legs extended and crossed, was a position that relaxes me. Tosca also relaxed, influenced by my mood, looked at me with sweet eyes and his hand stroked my chest.
Recently, more and more frequently, I was struck by severe pain in the neck and lightning-like electrical discharges, and power had to be, because the sides of the eyes simultaneously felt the snap of a blue spark. All this bother me so much memory do not find their way more speeches in which I channeled.
"Think, Tosca, many concepts had to be forfeited in the head, without us, the men a few centuries ago. No television, no telephone, no computer, no America! Was much smaller than the world but the brain of these men weighed about a pound and two as ours and, I bet, it will weigh even a thousand years of exponential growth can stand another ten centuries. Do you realize what the brain has great ability? So, let's drag him not only to walk into this little box, stimoliamolo properly, will give us the Almighty. "
" I never thought of that! "
" You think I'm dangerous? "
" Oh no! No, no, in any way. Nobody believes it, otherwise you would not be on the fourth floor. The hazards are on the lower floors with bars on the taxes, you have genius for me, I think you're a genius, you just have to put some order to your intuition. "
I took her hand and kisses it. He retired blushing as I kissed her on the mouth. I passed sweetly hand in her hair. I stood up. How was small next to me, The sun was placed in the middle of the window and spying on us without restraint, through the eye of Moloch.
"I want to go in the sun - I said - I want to achieve levitation." I put my arm on his shoulders and led her to the window wide open.
was docile as a granny with grandson. breathed with the air force knew of sulfur. I closed my eyes, and even shut them Tosca.
Incredible! Incredible! Despite its forty pounds, despite my enthusiasm, crashed on the tarmac with a dull thud as a lot of flour.

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Post # 17: Utopias in Random

If only there was still the ability to make some assumptions about us, the infinite amount of that question even be able to discover the indelible marks of our obvious intelligence. Action is thought to shape the past, sand, ashes of something that has never burned. Today, the man who was engineering, plasma's thoughts on plastic actions of others, and this is the open secret of our decade than previously, presumably many of those to come. Growth and evolution are terms, means to get to our natural state: the man who built himself from unnecessary and over ash. Siding with or against anything him, nothing on the side of a differently colored. The smile of this victory behind his dedication to any god, even the worst. That the tangible or ethereal, it does not matter, as long as one of the infinite in power. That's nothing, or against him in anything.

There is a time when the light turns into darkness. There must be at that moment, the moment is that nobody realizes, however, there is. We know we know the light and dark. The gradient is a central question. Well, at that exact moment the man lives who has understood its immense power. The rest: I, vol. It 's just a flock.

's our flock that fell under parole, expenses, extended words, words lost. Words that mean thoughts and thoughts do not think that involve new words. Paradoxes. Our willingness to bend the normal burning smells grim.

Getting lost in the desert is normal pure fire that melts itself. But the secret is simple: just look for yourself. No mirrors, that's an old game: only your eyes to your eyes. Here is the fire that dominates the world. Pure thought, will. Burning.

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Post # 16: Alzheimer

For a person who is still there, but no more.

(21-02-10 Change: For a person who is no more, yet there still.)

There was a man close to the bed. His movements were slow, thoughtful. The man, too old to die again, went to the window with his sour breath dance and from there the city and its imperfections, enjoying the curves and superimposing their own. He played the scent of sacred symmetries whispering one last light tear night, children play with the dreams and also played him in to see change anything but himself: see the world slipping through a window and observe it. He did not want to save it, just watch it fall, from rest. Alive. Living outside seeing that flows from the center. The opacity of the thoughts of others forces man to reality, or at least one of those endless, and everything becomes a game, once again: the truth on the one hand, the man on the other. Choose a card. The gather what. Always.

The fresh dawn caressing a man who hugged the dissolution own reality with the truth. Among the hands. The same hands that had built up a world with truth and reality of demons inside, once the men, once a love. The man saw the world and just slip the instant it disappeared into the mist, he realized that it was his own. And from that moment the man would have cherished a new dawn: new words to build new trails that give a sense of silence in which new patterns will be written, in which what is slipped into the fog becomes a demon, yet . A dead man can not go: you choose a card, keep it forever.

There was a man near a window, and perhaps I was there recently away, and there was a smell of what was once called joy, under the same dawn that brought joy smile. There was my reality, presumed truth in my hands that have built anything yet, then I saw a slide world, mine, and I saw a man, too old to die yet, look at me slip away.

and not recognize.

He just wants to play. Let him play. Demons. At one time men

one time love.

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Post # 15: The Genius (Part Three )

We left extremely happy. The recovered as Force. Another surprise, your Lordship had already been warned about what could be the unpredictable complexity of melodic genius. Now let the Genie to rejoice in the defeat. Moving on to the summit. The summit is still, as each peak. Once again, the Genie will be moving. There will come. Come back. Die. Yet another fruitless journey.

The peak of the mountain created by the Engineers Corps of Engineers assumes the features, shaped by her smile full of iron, the satisfaction it creates.

Now, here is the genius who climbs. And now look at the genius that creates the meantime, yet. They should see the genius who created peaks and did not create stairs, look at the genius who climbs, his hands red with blood, one blood with which the peak continues to rise. Look at the engineering scale and grow along the mountain. Look at the god who can not climb himself, observed that the blood of Genius solidifies, kissing rock new rock. Look at this crazy hanging in the bowels of a mountain, watch it now. Does not want to save? Look at that blood running and the peak that reaches the airwaves to discover its emptiness, filling it. Now, here, and choose its end: no change, salt, and he climbs the mountain. Cade blood. Cade pain. This change.

is perhaps not want to save?

Look at that blood. Look at that strength. Look at the blood becomes Force. Then look at your face. Look at the face of Engineers. Again.

Genie laughs.

thus made. You all go, go, run you all to climb. Follow, follow the insane, followed the Genius. Run well, praise the genius. Praise her laugh. Rock flourishes, it grows. Now the summit is no longer visible. And the higher the peak, your blood thicker, wider smile. The engineering scale, observe it, not interested choir behind him, the Genius just wants to climb. But it's too late now.

Meanwhile, the sky, still and empty, looks on. Silent.

Now turn to me, I stare. I hate it.

Anger rises to the top again. There is maybe willing to shoot them down?

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... the problem of the stories you read in novels and you also see on the screen is that they are shit. The 'source of the problem is the lack of realism. Realism. Have you ever stopped to think that every story, however absurd, has its own reason for being? An inner order? The world does not work as mica. The world does not work for reasons of being and internal orders. If abbandonaste to himself, would plunge the world you live in the most absolute mess. It would be so even for the world where you live. Everything tends to disorder, is a law of nature. Take yourself for example. You live. It 's a fact. You can not deny it. Nevertheless, it is not unusual. Compared to what happens in thousands of other galaxies and hundreds of thousands of other planets, nothing is more unlikely and statistically improbable that you live. Say it like it is, you should not be alive. On the other hand, it is very likely that you do not you see it the same way because you are the kind of people capable of thinking that they have every right to be alive. This makes you suspicious, as well as improbable and unlikely. There is indeed something more than suspicion of improbability that claim rights? Why would you live?, I wonder. What can you do, you, in this world, with your will to live? Because they give you to disturb the general chaos? What you have in mind? What is your plan? You must admit that to consider the question with a bit of realism, with a bit of realism that is true, there's not much you can trust. You want to be free, aspire to happiness, you do not even know what to look for. Things you can not have, you know very well that things could never have. But not only. You refuse as well. In the sense that you refuse yourself. Act against your interest. We do not panic, dates and nuts, are you able to fuck up everything for nothing. And since you are also hopeless morons, like blind moles and stubborn mules, make sure to give a semblance of rule. You rely on inventions that are not in heaven or on earth. Abstract stuff that was never seen in nature. Laws, rule of law, constitutional order. Codes of conduct and moral codes. Common sense and meaning. The market economy.

A look here, look alike, more or less, to a girl for some time that goes around the streets of the country complaining that this world is a madhouse and that can not be real. Maybe some of you will ever meet. Usually wears a shirt that strange geometries fluorescent colors, a skirt to carnal sin, and a small ankle right ankle. Always has an air scoglionata or distracted, as appropriate. He has brown hair silky translucent, eyes of the snake and the deer and a body that hovers. Does not go unnoticed. The type that if you see her, fall in love like nothing. His name is called ... ... is obviously not able to say how you really call what this reality nor from which it claims to be surfaced at. Do not you remember most. Just remember to have thrown away everything that has ever been. As you can see there is every reason to assert that his nature is very much akin to madness. Perhaps it is a kind of alien from outer space fall, who knows. Crazy alien or it may be, the fact remains that the similarities you, and you know why? Why has thrown herself to the wind fear of fading into the habit of a normal life, would not become an unhappy woman with protruding veins in the legs, the hips are heavy and the regret of not being crazy enough when he was still young and could. Because he wanted a life exciting, different. Because you only live once. For your will to live fuck. He wanted a different life now and complain about losing the one he had. He wanted to run away from home and now crying because they do not know how to come back. Your spitting image. Never that something does go wrong. When will you tell us that the Karma must be taken for what it is? Why learn to walk on when to go across the lake you can take a comfortable boat? You believe not to be like her ... you think you are people with a head on his shoulders. Believe. But in reality you are just like her. You are not you. You should not even be alive, let alone if you are.

... oh yes .. and always on her, one she any one that she might be you, fuck do I know ... well certainly not my am0 her that with all my being and hovering above even at this moment ... but ... she was probably one of those girls who fall in love with those who do not love them, those connoisseurs of the female who can only worthy of a look when they have abused or give the bitch ? And she had never broken my heart to someone? He hated the accident that touched her armpits? He kept a diary? She liked to do weird tricks or was instead an incurable romantic which eluded all of hand because he spent a life dream? And if he was a dreamer, dreaming of what? To be as small as a bacterium or to live a simple life like sex, drugs and rock & roll? And speaking of guys, she was like? An aspiring depressed or solar-type? What was his status in the world? He believed in the work? He felt made? He had ambitions, or enough to stay behind the desk of an office? It was a maneater freelance? Model, full-time cashier or bitch? What more saddened? The zoo or circus animals? Distances or phone bills? The narrow-mindedness or canaries cage? The things I did not know or understand those too? The people or parking meters? All or nothing? And what was he doing in your spare time? How much he loved the unexpected moments of silence? He had never stuck a vibrator in her pussy? How many times he had fucked? How many had fucked? Who gave it the first time? At what age? And how old she now? It was his mother? It was his father? He had never molested? What made her lose her head? A beautiful voice? The sweet nothings? The smell of sweat? A kiss on the neck at the right time? Scars? The strange places? The skinheads? Players of frisbee? And since the scombussolavano those five days per month when she had to bleed? And as for the disorientated life as a whole in the days when nothing special about the image of herself that she happened to meet was staring at her reflection in a window with a look full of unknowns?

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Post No. 14: The Genius (Part Two)

You can be assured: the genius is not difficult to externalize their shining superiority. The Genius always amazes. His semi-axis have an infinite and endless sleeves from which to escape.

Surprise: The genius is not content to create, and basically is not satisfied either of the doubt. Seems satisfied not to be satisfied, it is his game. Played. Again.

Think about it: the Genius has created, justified, he demystified. What remains then? The peaks have been reached, amounts creations already stored. What is left now? The banality perhaps? Sleep on their spines? Check on the truths that shine and fresh invention?

No.

Genius is much more than that. The true genius was born here. Why the Genius, my dear, is not content to win. The victory is for tired men, is a top from which you can not go up or down, is a limit.

Here the genius shines, here goes beyond the Genie: Vince, and then gives in to defeat. It 's a tactic, I swear, is not a random choice. Believe me, the Genie does to try all possibilities. It is not idiocy, is that he loves and overstepping shine. About everything. Upon himself.

is now Genius breathe deep, true: the Genius has created, justified, he demystified, has reached the heights, he filed the sums creations. And now he still enjoys, enjoys most: the Genius is now subjected, is losing, is defeated by the Genius himself, a self that comes to life at hand, which came into being to win again, this time forever.

Look at him now: the Genius of notes from the top down, which has climbed to the top creating it. Look at him now, the Genius dominated by the peak that gives his own thought baby, immature. Look at the defeat of voluntary engineering. Do not ask why. Do not ask for Why, he follows the thought and immature newborn, the Genie is laughing. It 's easy, it is clear: the Genius is happy. Even more. Forward one step further: a new level of happiness. It is not the last.

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Assignment # 8: Assessment Course

It was late.

Behold the end to give my opinion on the course of Informatics: I'll try to go straight to the point. First of all I owe to this course the discovery of the Blog as a direct and practical form of personal expression on any level. It was an experience I had never even considered taking, but which proved to be a enjoyable outlet that presumably will continue to use, in the manner and time that I will be permitted. Secondly, the blog has had the great honor to put us all in contact, thus allowing us to know different sides of people with whom we were (and unfortunately we are still in good part) used to share only the big air of the classroom of the Cube, or maximum CuBar. Thirdly, the reflection. I admit that in some cases having to write a post about something that you never smell a bit concerned 'constraint. is the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to write forcefully. Rationally speaking, however, I realize that there would be other ways to actually think the people on the Copyright or other issues difficulty with which you are in contact, but which are part of a reality not really as happy as ours.

say that in general, this course was almost the opposite of what I could expect, and it was a pleasant surprise, because it could not weigh on the shoulders of us poor sperandio Medical already facing trillion notions store, and at the same time be much more engaging and useful than any test crosses using Word or Excel, using the right blend of practical use and capabilities of the PC to range beyond the actual teaching, in addition to knowledge, but something more real and realistic.

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Post # 13: The Genius

It 's pure genius. We simply create. We like to create. Man has always created and will not stop. It 's pure genius the man who creates endless trails around himself and others, the man who created man and the monster, the man who then runs away from their creations and genius itself. He creates and then punishes, punishing you for having created or have not created enough. Walk the world and crush the man, crushing and replaces what is explained by what is vague enough to be regarded as human, as comes from the human and the human is trapped. It 's the same trap that the Genius regurgitates dreams and horrors, which falls, in which the cradle and the cradle other men who spit dreams and horrors like him and like many others.

When God created man he did not need to speak or give the signal, we thought the genius to write and interpret his own words, follow them, betraying them, punish or absolve. And 'Genius, have faith, this is pure genius. Creating the world and acting is genius. The genie is not clear where necessary even himself, because at the end of the Genie uses what has always been known to create new puzzles to solve which will not ever know, so as to render unnecessary the presence, useless man, the actor who mixes the stand. And it is this genius?

When man created himself came to understand each other well enough to get in doubt for fun: it is the epitome of elegance of Engineers. Even in the game, the genius is genius.

Genius does not want answers, rather it feeds the Genius of questions, and gold, and happiness, the real one, who understands the splendor of the tear and enjoys it as it goes, as he dies. The Genius is nourished and looks to suffer in the cage. And enjoy. Infinitely enjoys. While enjoying the Genius creates the prison where he died of a doubt.

has come from the man who will not be created by the Engineers and that genius does not die. Not be born. But do not tell the Genius, we do not believe it.

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Post # 12: Cheap

And take me with you in my time, I'll run him through the years but never really hit me. Evanescence of the future that are reflected in your eyes for a moment and then wait to be back in the blue mist, ready to become a memory. Like all live to become light, be light because some see it, see it forever. And millions of lights with no future and past too suggest something that will not understand, but which we will still listen.

Fly away, fly free, and meet the world, fly forever and learn, learn to fly in the silences between the hours of moving the thoughts, run away without any constraints, do not bind me here and let me fly away, fly on the thresholds of knowledge, you who are powerful, you can fly up to, up until the present, you can fly without trembling, without restraint, without turning, until you fly to always fly up to the present, you can fly up to me. You are back, you're still here, still. Take me by the hand then let cure. O curatemi. Until forever, until the present. Up to me.

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Post # 11: A train

From there, the air blue with his chill autumn wrapped a man who looked away.

His train was traveling toward a silent death. One of the many.

quick trips, trampling everything, everything. And the man did not understand, did not understand nothing, he thought, was limited to travel over an elegant dictatorship.

Thoughts can not be looking for when it's dark in your mind. Just wait and we will find them, because we are perfectly visible in the dark on what is true of us.

the floor waiting for the breeze and fresh. Soft.

But now he was afraid. Fear of not being able to solve, or fear of solving too hard. It did not depend on him.

His train was traveling in a straight line now. Skidding a bit, but with a direction. I felt physically stretched as its trajectory, so, only to derail exhausted, dropping.

From there, the air blue with his chill autumn wrapped a man who looked away.

understood.

He turned. He began to walk.

And his life did not end.

Mai.

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Assignment No. 6: Reflections on Copyright

This sixth Assignment catches me off guard less than usual, in that respect copyright, sadly I had already had occasion to reflect, and how. From my point of view, the way most sincere and spontaneous discourse of this topic would be the start time with little rant against the beloved noble SIAE, but I'll try to restrain myself. But I want to talk about copyright from their subjective point of view of a poor emerging group. I certainly do not use the term "artists" who would be an insult to centuries of history, much less want to talk from a qualitative point of view, which perhaps, beyond history, also affects human decency.

Just do realize they have a passion, to cultivate it, share it with others, make it grow with them, throw in a bit 'of your ideas, a bit' of yourself, and then, without pretense or hope, wanting to know. So happy with your smile run to the Italian Society of Authors and Publishers, and you're happy, because they understand you, they protect those who have passion, who cultivates, who shares, who grows, who puts a bit 'of ideas and a bit' of himself in something. And then? Then the flies off your smile turning into a soft foul language, and you find yourself alone in the hands of a few pages with an endless series of zeroes, and the bottom of this a known symbol: €.

"All right, I'll pay .." - Think back the naive artistucolo home - "at least I will offer an excellent service, keeping pace with the times, able to assist in my desire to create." While artistucolo calls this its future, the future will reply with a wonderful raspberry.

Nothing, emptiness.

It 's true that, as pointed out prof. Formiconi, the situation has become widespread, but it is also true that, at least in Europe, Italy occupies a top position as the rates of services offered by similar institutions. Who would have thought it?

Flying over the economic problem, unfortunately, remains the big stumbling block given the inadequacy of the rules of all these institutions, as well as of its member, in relation to new forms of communication, dissemination, both artistic and a social connection and, last but not least, teaching.

We want to move gentlemen? O bellies are not full enough?

PS (16/04/2009) I am writing in response to Thomas that I mentioned it in his blog . My post does not want to disparage the copyright, which I consider essential for any person who can create or make any form of art or knowledge. This article is directed instead to those who speculate on this capacity there, in many cases by tapping the 'objective possibilities. In Switzerland Suisa (equivalent of our local SIAE) costs 60 € in total, not annual, but final. In Italy, with a maximum of € 60 offered a cup of coffee on the Director SIAE. That's it.

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Post # 10: The parachute

That day he opened his parachute too early. He was thrown from the plane with the ardor of those who are too off to endure nightmares, off enough to want to escape into the dry sea of \u200b\u200billusion, of wanting to be wind, knowing that those moments would come back after the snow. Bones and snow.

But that day the parachute had opened much too early.

And now wandering in the air. Soft wall of a soft prison.

Wall

anything. Wall covering nothing. And more than anything? What was it?

The nothing is not answered.

parachute And that went on wearily waving in the sea of \u200b\u200billusion dry, weeping sull'incubo poems from which he was fleeing.

At that moment, however, escaped a life hanging by a parachute. And screamed. Crazy screaming, shouting as loud as a train, yelling like the air was fresh and the wrapping.

And behold, here is something, that's the focus.

Behold the fire to burn anything.

from within.

always.

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Assignment # 5: PubMed

As requested, I poked around a bit 'in this site which, in all honesty, I did not know. This is a very positive surprise to the vast sources of information available in it. I think PubMed is easy to use not only for teaching and working, but also to any matter of simple curiosity about the medical field. What is certain is that a really full use of this source is possible, particularly for those who have some familiarity with the various fields of medicine, so as to be able to use PubMed as a source of constant updating and deepening.

This is, as was done note the allocation of the task, a site in English, but a scientific English, easy and intuitive, it appears that I do not think a big problem for most.

The most striking thing is the huge amount of PubMed of articles and information can be found there.

I decided, more or less consciously, not to use this resource for research regarding the threat (and now close) an examination of Anatomy, but I preferred to use about a topic that particularly interests me, do you want for reasons himself or by simple curiosity. This topic is Alzheimer's disease, a disease known especially in its primitive stage but that few people know the real practical impact, especially in pathological cases very advanced.

To be honest I would not recommend an article rather than another, given the large number of these with respect to the chosen theme, I can only point out that I have found a number of very interesting information, especially about new ideas research (of course we are talking about foreign countries, never ...) that are proposed by the scientific community with great frequency, and it can only increase my curiosity.

I think I'll keep updated on this issue using PubMed and therefore also can not claim to be very satisfied with this resource efficiently and, at least for me, new.

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Post # 9: Time

E 'that the time away and be like chasing. It 's all there the problem, there would be nothing difficult time in life if we expected. But he runs, he does not care to know he was born, should not explain to anyone because no one can live long enough to ask. And he knows it.

Corre, started first and won, it was adapted, the only one to have succeeded: he runs, he is aware. He understood.

runs and leaves a trail, one for each of us. Who Short, who long, he is not interested, it is not his business. Do not do it with a specific purpose, really, is that is so, the rest is all luck. And waiting.

So expect to see, day after day, what he left behind for us. Then, every so often, we turn back. And it is a very bad idea, really, the worst thing you can do. Why are the contrails disappear.

great truth.

Hell, if not we can achieve going forward, should at least be possible to turn around and enjoy the trail, maybe get over it ... again ... why not change it.

And 'logic makes perfect sense, does not bat an eyelid. It should be so do not you think? It must be so.

But no.

Then you run. Racing and leave my trail, which leaves millions, billions.

continue to follow him until he wants us to rest. We have nothing to do here. to go on him. What is left alone.

"Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death”

(Pink Floyd, “Time”)

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Assignment 3: "Cultivating Connections"

Eccomi qui a scrivere, in ritardo, l’Assignment 3.
Vorrei dare un’opinione molto generale, and at the same time as honest as possible on the same protagonist dell'Assignment. I state that I would be hypocritical if I were to tear all that the computer network available to me daily. Not the slightest doubt that the computer is the most important technical tool of the last century, I found some hot water. Like any tool, however, will always lay the groundwork for something more profound question, in turn, a network of concepts and ideas, craftsmanship and subjective thinking. Of Physicality.
I make a speech that, more than trivial in itself, is too often trivialized, something very different. In recent years, various branches of that system terribly beautiful generically called "computer", are traveling faster than the road to replace the support. Facebook replaces voice communication, Wikipedia replaces books, mp3s substitute for real music. It will also be positive, but in these extreme cases of quarrels I am in great numbers.
I even heard people call into question the achievement of the right to education for all, and I hope that this was a joke and not a statement conviction. Let us be honest: how many of us use computers for learning a really useful and rational?
admit that the flaws in mainstream education are many and serious. This does not mean that it must be set aside: if we have the internet, if we have something to write, if we have the ability and the ability to use it, and if we are still people and we owe it primarily to hard disk chairs and books. The two things have to go hand in hand, support, complement, but never one of the two aspects should totally replace the other. Wanting to use the dialectic of the article in question, I would say that both aspects must, today, be on the same network, since both are virtually endless source of knowledge, sometimes deep sometimes superficial, and I do not feel criticize what the other hand, in both cases, it has enriched a practical point of view and beyond.

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Post # 8: Sleep.

Sleep baby, sleep much as you can. Maybe you'll wake the child, but you are asleep or pretend to sleep. Do not fall for it baby, do not envy our plastic smiles, you still sleep. We are happy child, we are happy because we complete the game levels, we all run the same way, on the same roads. We like this, we're fine here, but if you can sleep, it's best for you. We already know what to put on him, how to talk, what to pray, who to play, we can not choose anything baby. Do not envy us: sleep, sleep as you can. You still have something to find out baby, do not wake up, its protection, sleep, continues to sleep. We all look the same way again and we like to call it freedom, but there is no fall baby. Do not worry about us, we are happy, really. But you sleep. Continue to sleep. Sleep. And saved.

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Post # 7: New Concerns Policies

add this comment in the bottom of the blog of Andrea ( http://whosgnamo.blogspot.com ) and Giulia ( http://shgiulie.blogspot.com ).
It 's the first post "normal" that I write, may seem a bit' out the chorus of the usual context of my blog but I think that in some cases outside certain large concerns do well for themselves, and perhaps others.

I do not watch almost no television, let alone a certain kind of self-styled programs. Tonight, however, pending a warm and comforting pizza, I came across in TG5. I admit that I just feel like a carefree and fun to distract Variety after an exhausting day-Florentine university, so I stopped to savor the depth wise. At one point the conductor soars with a beautiful phrase: "Usually, dear viewers, we dedicate this space to other topics of TG, but tonight we want to use for an event that represents a watershed in Italian politics."

Result: More than a quarter of an hour of service on the People of Freedom, on what was Forza Italy, its history, its victories, the miracles, saints, martyrs, victims of voracious eaters opponents of child well-deserved and armchairs, and a short summary of all the parables. We pass through a series of more or less of our history the current Council President, leaving sometimes take from unlikely lyrical charms: "... and Berlusconi, who on a cold evening in Milan, the window of his car he announced the birth of a new party, the People of Freedom. " Then there are interviews with journalists (but everyone? Right of all political factions? And all with the same time? Guess'....), still delicious and smiles of our knight, the only true Savior. Indeed he

absolutely right when he says the distinguished Silvio Berlusconi that its networks are absolutely opposed to any political faction.
In the end even the bible does not want to be a religious text, is simply a funny cartoon for kids, if you want even tending to atheism

I am neither right nor left regardless, I just like to see this critically what's happening around me. In this case, I'm thinking with a certain sadness to those who might, rather than worry, it will even be excited. And I wonder every day how the lessons of the past in Italy will not serve anything, because basically he was right about the true nature Gobetti of us sweets inhabitants of the boot ...

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Post # 6: Castles of Anger

"is a beautiful thing .... Have a note, say a note to himself. Acknowledge that among a thousand, and bring her inside and me. You can not even believe it, but I tell you breathe when you breathe, waiting for you when you sleep, follows you wherever you go and I swear there moller until you decide to die, and then creperie with you. You can also ignore it, you can come here and tell me, dear me Pekisch sorry but I think I have really no note inside, and go away, just go away ... but the truth is that there's that note ... is there but you do not want to hear. And this is an idiot, a masterpiece of idiocy, really idiotic to stay in plaster. One has a note, which is his, and if left to rot inside ... no ... listen to me ... even if life is a hellish noise affilatevi ears until people get so tenetevela close, do not let him get away again. "

from" Castles of Anger ", by Alessandro Baricco.

I quote from the blog di Duccio, who against my expectations has written a post on" Without Blood "by the same author. I knew that I was hiding under all that hair a gentle heart! Here is the link: http://cabezas18.blogspot.com/

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Post # 5: A time

There was one who was different. There was always, there was now. There was man that had nothing to do, there was one who did not seem real. There was a wave against the other, there was a wave in the distant roar of the gray sea, there was a wave that did not want to get to shore, and fuck all the others that are going to die happy melting in the icy sin sand.
There was one who was different, and who felt different all the others.
There were those who did not understand, there were those who wanted only to breathe, there were those who believed it was right, there were those who prayed to the sun, cursing the moon, there were those who swore that the sun and the moon, but he did it by covering with curses covering the silence with silence and prayers. There was one who was different.
And there were those who said they saw something different. There was something profoundly different from anything else. At one time, there was all this. At one time, there were those who were different.
is different from what no one has yet understood. Perhaps only
different from what is unknown sins of frozen sand.

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Assignment: Delicious

As expected, I opened my account Delicious. Here's the link: http://delicious.com/chitarro2009 .
My opinion on this system of social bookmarking is extremely positive. By now all the most popular browsers contain options for sites 'Favorites' with different features and customization options, but Delicious has its great value can be used on any computer you are and not just on your own, something very useful indeed. Besides the ability to customize the saving of certain pages by using tags, titles, descriptions makes it all more clearly and completely. The graphical interface is simple and functional, so the use of the service is friendly and in turn be very satisfactory. For the moment I have added only a few pages in Delicious, I'll add again in the coming days, progressively.
Greetings!

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Post # 4: An old text ..

Originally I had thought of as part of the text to the antinomies. I found myself sifting folder in the mythical "GROUP" of my PC (a Pandora's box and heavy Gigabyte Gigabyte, it is said that inside there are our records of 1947, after several rubateci from Genesis to compose their achievements during a mystical crisis). I do not know if we'll use it, and thus the post here, so it can not hurt ...

fresh flower in my mind

Thou be praised, and you can grow

Dream trails of silk

But inside I still feel

The smell of hate between the petals

sweet hatred of the past

Velo dew on terror

The light runs just to get away Now tell me

Fresh flower of my mind that you only

tears

collections and keep them in my hourglass

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