Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 1, 2005
Spare Parts For Chicco
We have lost even this twilight
We lost too dusk.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I saw from my window the fiesta of sunset on distant mountains.
Sometimes, as a coin
I lit a piece of sun in his hands.
I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness
you know me.
Where were you then?
Who else?
Saying what?
Why invest all the love I suddenly
when I feel sad and I feel you far away?
dropped the book that always closed at twilight and
hurt dog as I was crouching at his feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings and
toward the twilight erasing statues.
(Pablo Neruda) 
Shingle unequal
We lost too dusk.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I saw from my window the fiesta of sunset on distant mountains.
Sometimes, as a coin
I lit a piece of sun in his hands.
I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness
you know me.
Where were you then?
Who else?
Saying what?
Why invest all the love I suddenly
when I feel sad and I feel you far away?
dropped the book that always closed at twilight and
hurt dog as I was crouching at his feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings and
toward the twilight erasing statues.
(Pablo Neruda)
Sunday, November 6, 2005
How Much It Costs For Wedding Mandap In Rjy
Earth, my
I have different colors on each beach.
Fragments of the colors of my land surrendered to the sea, smooth and soft as the sky on some days on the tiles of blue gray.
And it is the gray that dominates as a cloak austere and jealous that only opens the eyes more 'careful.
walk on, with fatigue, including drystone walls that limit the look and often only smelling the heat of slate cooked by the sun and the stones of the road salt can figure out where to go.
Then, suddenly, over the last wall, you see, laggù, majestic, often more 'gray than blue, too. Sometimes brilliant pearl necklaces angry foam that bite the cliffs.
You sit there in the small band stolen away to the mountain and feel but its intense perfume and her voice.
gaze can not do it just to get used to the light, the width of the gulf and slowly eased the sunset colors, sometimes blue sometimes fire, fade back in gray.
Like a pearl in the shell contained more 'anonymous my land is precious and knows how to be loved only by those who have the patience of the farmer who has dug into the mountain and the fisherman on the night turn on the silent sea of \u200b\u200blights.
rita 
I have different colors on each beach.
Fragments of the colors of my land surrendered to the sea, smooth and soft as the sky on some days on the tiles of blue gray.
And it is the gray that dominates as a cloak austere and jealous that only opens the eyes more 'careful.
walk on, with fatigue, including drystone walls that limit the look and often only smelling the heat of slate cooked by the sun and the stones of the road salt can figure out where to go.
Then, suddenly, over the last wall, you see, laggù, majestic, often more 'gray than blue, too. Sometimes brilliant pearl necklaces angry foam that bite the cliffs.
You sit there in the small band stolen away to the mountain and feel but its intense perfume and her voice.
gaze can not do it just to get used to the light, the width of the gulf and slowly eased the sunset colors, sometimes blue sometimes fire, fade back in gray.
Like a pearl in the shell contained more 'anonymous my land is precious and knows how to be loved only by those who have the patience of the farmer who has dug into the mountain and the fisherman on the night turn on the silent sea of \u200b\u200blights.
rita
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Canadese Lapin Cherry
Wind of change
I follow the Moskva down to Gorky Park
listening to the wind of change
an August summer night soldiers passing by listening to the
wind of change.
Take me to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
The world is closing in
did you ever think
that we could be so close,
like brothers?
The future's in the air
I can feel it everywhere
blowing with the wind
of change
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
where the children of tomorrow dream away
in the wind of change.
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
where the children of tomorrow dream away
in the wind of change.
The wind of change blows straight
into the face of time
like a stormwind that will ring
the freedom bell for peace of mind.
Let your balalaika sing
what my guitar wants to say.
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
Take me to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
I follow the Moskva down to Gorky Park
listening to the wind of change
an August summer night soldiers passing by listening to the
wind of change.
Take me to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
The world is closing in
did you ever think
that we could be so close,
like brothers?
The future's in the air
I can feel it everywhere
blowing with the wind
of change
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
where the children of tomorrow dream away
in the wind of change.
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
where the children of tomorrow dream away
in the wind of change.
The wind of change blows straight
into the face of time
like a stormwind that will ring
the freedom bell for peace of mind.
Let your balalaika sing
what my guitar wants to say.
Take me
to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
Take me to the magic of the moment on a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change
.
Monday, October 17, 2005
8 Month Dachshund Puppy Swollen Nipples
Incipit
Above the doorway there is a long narrow metal plate, coated with enamel. On white background, black lettering announcing Conservatoria General dell'Anagrafe. The enamel is chipped and cracked in places. The door is old, the last layer of brown paint is peeling, the wood grain, visible, reminiscent of a Striped skin.
There are five windows on the facade. As soon as you cross the threshold, you feel the smell of old paper. It is certain that not a day passes without new papers to enter the Conservatory, the individual male or female and outside continue to rise, but the smell never changes, primarily because the fate of each new sheet, after leaving the factory is to begin to age, and secondly because, usually more often on old sheets, but many times on new, not a day goes by that you do not write causes of death and their dates and locations, each bringing their strong odors, not always offensive to the olfactory mucosa, as demonstrated by certain aromatic scents from time to time, imperceptibly, through the atmosphere of the Conservatory General and the finest noses identify as a perfume composed of half pink and half of chrysanthemum.
José Saramago, All the names 
Above the doorway there is a long narrow metal plate, coated with enamel. On white background, black lettering announcing Conservatoria General dell'Anagrafe. The enamel is chipped and cracked in places. The door is old, the last layer of brown paint is peeling, the wood grain, visible, reminiscent of a Striped skin.
There are five windows on the facade. As soon as you cross the threshold, you feel the smell of old paper. It is certain that not a day passes without new papers to enter the Conservatory, the individual male or female and outside continue to rise, but the smell never changes, primarily because the fate of each new sheet, after leaving the factory is to begin to age, and secondly because, usually more often on old sheets, but many times on new, not a day goes by that you do not write causes of death and their dates and locations, each bringing their strong odors, not always offensive to the olfactory mucosa, as demonstrated by certain aromatic scents from time to time, imperceptibly, through the atmosphere of the Conservatory General and the finest noses identify as a perfume composed of half pink and half of chrysanthemum.
José Saramago, All the names
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Vietnam Gold Plated Pistol
Two categories
There are two categories of people: those who say
knowing shit to say ,
and those who say crap without realizing it.
If you think you do not say crap,
probably falls in the second (Anonymous).
Friday, October 7, 2005
When Using Drysol Do You Use Deodorant?
They also help their to live
Small dreams
Carlos Varela
The driver turns on the radio and
night falls, the lights
on the road are like dreams, they approach slowly and
when they come back to leave.
In the cabin there is the poster girl of Playboy,
she stares, not let him sleep,
he knows that these things are not great, but
are his dreams,
those little dreams that also help them to live.
She has hung a picture over my bed,
I know that his father did not like it, but I remain there,
crucifix on the wall without doing anything,
I just stare when he goes to sleep.
You know very well that these are not the big things, but
are his dreams, the little dreams that also help them to live.
My mother put flowers at the photo of Dad
and stared at bedtime,
she knew those things were not great, but it was his dream,
those little dreams that also help them to live.
I have a hat, a pair of boots, my love and my guitar,
she stares at me and I will not sleep,
know I'm not big things, but they're my dreams, small dreams
those who help me they also live.
And so I get lost walking
when night falls,
the street lights are like dreams,
slowly walked away and when they come back
are the little dreams that also help them to live,
help to live. 
Small dreams
Carlos Varela
The driver turns on the radio and
night falls, the lights
on the road are like dreams, they approach slowly and
when they come back to leave.
In the cabin there is the poster girl of Playboy,
she stares, not let him sleep,
he knows that these things are not great, but
are his dreams,
those little dreams that also help them to live.
She has hung a picture over my bed,
I know that his father did not like it, but I remain there,
crucifix on the wall without doing anything,
I just stare when he goes to sleep.
You know very well that these are not the big things, but
are his dreams, the little dreams that also help them to live.
My mother put flowers at the photo of Dad
and stared at bedtime,
she knew those things were not great, but it was his dream,
those little dreams that also help them to live.
I have a hat, a pair of boots, my love and my guitar,
she stares at me and I will not sleep,
know I'm not big things, but they're my dreams, small dreams
those who help me they also live.
And so I get lost walking
when night falls,
the street lights are like dreams,
slowly walked away and when they come back
are the little dreams that also help them to live,
help to live.
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Wednesday, October 5, 2005
My Guppies Are Bloating
Battiato, Franco
. . .
If I think about how I spent my time
evil that will not return, never return.
. . .
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