Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Follar Bellezas Mexicanas
A Love Story dell'Erotika Hotel - written by Compagnidiviaggio
Background Music: Air from the beginning and end of J. Sebastian Bach
As I write this post in the background of internet radio you can hear the first words of DESPERATE EROTIC STOMP Lucio Dalla
Follow here
http://cdv.splinder.com/
dell'Erotika Hotel A love story - written by Compagnidiviaggio
To help forget the time in its function as well as adventurous spirit and leave behind a love that I chose to come over now to pursue my medical degree here in Uganda. After the plane landed at the airport of U. that was the dawn (if not before) and still sleepy wandering in a city silent (or almost) and without dreams with the desire to start a new life, I am going to take the bus rather it would be better to go and call him Coach G. which has the mission Don M. where I expect to begin my experience as a medical auxiliary. I watch while waiting for the arrival of a means to get to my destination. The local people and their customs, but above all their patience in waiting and / or to remain calm when you see half-full to capacity with wonder camionali coaches and taxis and many offices and very few bicycles private cars. Finally comes my bus, the journey is long seen the bad road conditions (if I may call it so) due to years of wars, the struggle for colonial independence first, and then civil war between various factions of the front of liberation and to flooding.
I sleep, but is attracted by the landscapes and local business people and their optimism, by the sound of their language and their smiles to see a foreign person of a different color and stay awake. At one stop, one of the many rooms of this black girl looking for 26-28 years with the features that make it look like a Western. He sits in front of me because it is the only place free of the medium. Provo, tired of long hours of silence, to overcome my shyness and fear of making gaffe in local insegnatomi say those few words from my friend K. Mozambican immigrant, and I start to talk. Exhausted the few words of local language, try to speak in Esperanto and then in English. Her with a sensual smile: "I also know English." Then we talk and talk for two hours. She tells me of his country and his family and the few memories that the family had "original" or nearly exterminated by the civil war, and the orphanage of the missionaries, is that adopted when he was 16-17 years and his work as a waitress at the Hotel Erotika.
Our eyes met several times, mostly all I do is fix the antelope from his body. At one point, tired and jet-lang made a 4-5 hour trip and fall asleep because I have 5-7 more to be done. At one stop she wakes me, me, groggy with sleep, I think I have arrived, thank you. And she featured so passionate, seductive, lascivious, licentious, "It 's my stop." Then I follow. After taking a taxi, we arrived at the hotel located on the hill of the city, in the old colonial district, near the border between it (the area became infamous with the buildings, now rubble and ruins, damaged by the bombing of the various wars) former colonial and the modern. Viewed from the foot of the hill to the bus stop seems to place a building much more than you might think very least, as it was during the regime of former dictator and his henchmen before he was taken by the resistance the meeting point where the henchmen of Count exchange stolen goods and a thousand other shady dealings, as well as being (a feature still maintained even though in a more sober and discreet) meeting place for lovers, more or less sordid. In fact, when she told the taxi driver our target a passenger said something, and everyone, including her, laughed. Soon after she translated: "Here you can toast each other and with broken hearts: there will drink with shatterproof glasses." I laughed too because it was a phrase taken from Moby Dick, one of the favorite books of my adolescence. Once you arrive at your destination but I realize that I had taken the appearance of deception, as it is one of the few if not the only building left whole after decades of wars, the only witness to the turbulent past are the signs of shots on the wall. In fact, as I told E. are due not to a battle, but a shooting by supporters of militia members scheme since this hotel was always spared during the fighting as both men of colonial rule, first, both men of the opposing factions, they considered their stronghold operativa.Entrammo-base and after crossing a great waiting room in colonial style, and a long corridor we came to the staff room and spent the notte.Quella there was an intense night of passion. At dawn I left with regret, because I gave the word to Don M. , My spiritual father as a child and then because it was my job as a doctor and. This place that I had initially considered very least, depressing and now as magical as the night passed with E. was one (if not the only one) of my life. I arrived after a troubled trip because of bad roads lowered and torn soul for abandoning E. The night in G. The next day I started working, thinking that this, together with the time I would help close the wound, but it did not, because I thought always to you I had always promised to visit her and bring her here with us, or if it was not possible to abandon my post and send everything to the dogs. When I learned on the radio that a taxi camionale jumped on a mine (one of the legacies of decades of war) just working in the area where E.
My concerns were confirmed by a letter containing some of his belongings, including his photos, sent to me by E. who worked at the reception dell'Erotika Hotel. Since then something has died in me.
To help forget the time in its function as well as adventurous spirit and leave behind a love that I chose to come over now to pursue my medical degree here in Uganda. After the plane landed at the airport of U. that was the dawn (if not before) and still sleepy wandering in a city silent (or almost) and without dreams with the desire to start a new life, I am going to take the bus rather it would be better to go and call him Coach G. which has the mission Don M. where I expect to begin my experience as a medical auxiliary. I watch while waiting for the arrival of a means to get to my destination. The local people and their customs, but above all their patience in waiting and / or to remain calm when you see half-full to capacity with wonder camionali coaches and taxis and many offices and very few bicycles private cars. Finally comes my bus, the journey is long seen the bad road conditions (if I may call it so) due to years of wars, the struggle for colonial independence first, and then civil war between various factions of the front of liberation and to flooding.
I sleep, but is attracted by the landscapes and local business people and their optimism, by the sound of their language and their smiles to see a foreign person of a different color and stay awake. At one stop, one of the many rooms of this black girl looking for 26-28 years with the features that make it look like a Western. He sits in front of me because it is the only place free of the medium. Provo, tired of long hours of silence, to overcome my shyness and fear of making gaffe in local insegnatomi say those few words from my friend K. Mozambican immigrant, and I start to talk. Exhausted the few words of local language, try to speak in Esperanto and then in English. Her with a sensual smile: "I also know English." Then we talk and talk for two hours. She tells me of his country and his family and the few memories that the family had "original" or nearly exterminated by the civil war, and the orphanage of the missionaries, is that adopted when he was 16-17 years and his work as a waitress at the Hotel Erotika.
Our eyes met several times, mostly all I do is fix the antelope from his body. At one point, tired and jet-lang made a 4-5 hour trip and fall asleep because I have 5-7 more to be done. At one stop she wakes me, me, groggy with sleep, I think I have arrived, thank you. And she featured so passionate, seductive, lascivious, licentious, "It 's my stop." Then I follow. After taking a taxi, we arrived at the hotel located on the hill of the city, in the old colonial district, near the border between it (the area became infamous with the buildings, now rubble and ruins, damaged by the bombing of the various wars) former colonial and the modern. Viewed from the foot of the hill to the bus stop seems to place a building much more than you might think very least, as it was during the regime of former dictator and his henchmen before he was taken by the resistance the meeting point where the henchmen of Count exchange stolen goods and a thousand other shady dealings, as well as being (a feature still maintained even though in a more sober and discreet) meeting place for lovers, more or less sordid. In fact, when she told the taxi driver our target a passenger said something, and everyone, including her, laughed. Soon after she translated: "Here you can toast each other and with broken hearts: there will drink with shatterproof glasses." I laughed too because it was a phrase taken from Moby Dick, one of the favorite books of my adolescence. Once you arrive at your destination but I realize that I had taken the appearance of deception, as it is one of the few if not the only building left whole after decades of wars, the only witness to the turbulent past are the signs of shots on the wall. In fact, as I told E. are due not to a battle, but a shooting by supporters of militia members scheme since this hotel was always spared during the fighting as both men of colonial rule, first, both men of the opposing factions, they considered their stronghold operativa.Entrammo-base and after crossing a great waiting room in colonial style, and a long corridor we came to the staff room and spent the notte.Quella there was an intense night of passion. At dawn I left with regret, because I gave the word to Don M. , My spiritual father as a child and then because it was my job as a doctor and. This place that I had initially considered very least, depressing and now as magical as the night passed with E. was one (if not the only one) of my life. I arrived after a troubled trip because of bad roads lowered and torn soul for abandoning E. The night in G. The next day I started working, thinking that this, together with the time I would help close the wound, but it did not, because I thought always to you I had always promised to visit her and bring her here with us, or if it was not possible to abandon my post and send everything to the dogs. When I learned on the radio that a taxi camionale jumped on a mine (one of the legacies of decades of war) just working in the area where E.
My concerns were confirmed by a letter containing some of his belongings, including his photos, sent to me by E. who worked at the reception dell'Erotika Hotel. Since then something has died in me.
Background Music: Air from the beginning and end of J. Sebastian Bach
As I write this post in the background of internet radio you can hear the first words of DESPERATE EROTIC STOMP Lucio Dalla
Follow here
http://cdv.splinder.com/
Saturday, November 22, 2008
How To Find Real Hussyfan
no nobility 'Erotika
"Here you can toast each other and with broken hearts: there will drink with shatterproof glasses" (from Moby Dick)
II
for mercy the world and ask forgiveness Strip ... The information on the Net Tear up a frantic race big bikes and its aftermath created a sound of emptiness. Only my mind that does not stand the hard knocks, not anymore. (In that room) There was a silence that can break the glass to vibrate and the springs of a wet mattress on the edge of the world and my peripheral universe. Repress a brief sigh, and put a lighter in his pocket, I'll need on this night of Vaseline and candor. It 's like my soul raw wander around, without my permission. Everything moves in the night supported by darkness, an ambiguous sense of emptiness makes us free and prisoners at the same time and I find myself alone in this room Hotel dell'Erotika, to contemplate the glare of the night ...
Everything is consumed, even your orifice. Find answers in each slot em'infilerò vigorously investigating. Only my soul left to burn in a bonfire tonight redemptive. Only the lonely, only my body off and satisfied. Anime sweat up a scaffold soothing. My body knows no peace, but your language strikes me most about your whip. I tried to make this heart vibrate still dodge every bullet and silver, on this night of madness humoral / Your body burns, your body is dear to me, but the scent has changed, how my soul. Pity for the weak and blunt this sword. Never been resolved / Never tried truth at the bottom of my back, but there is always a first time and it was blank for a moment and then ... then it becomes corrupted in a lysergic mambo / Beer & Saliva, tears and hugs. Hold strong, Honey!
Grab the pleasure while it lasts. Tomorrow you could stop sigh. Give up on me, to my past. Groundhog Day dreaming, with your legs open and have no mercy, Not now! We'll meet again in a soft October night, and Fred Bongusto, razor on the velvet will invite us to dance to ease our discomfort. Hold me and caress my beard still a liar swindler.
Tonight I feel alive, innocent and immaculate, even for a moment. Where do we go now? We go out for a moment dall'Erotika Hotel: I'll let you drive in this mambo of redemption. Ride as if this is likely to depend on the defeat of my soul / Give me joy and peace, Gimme Shelter, baby! Maybe it is a wrong feeling alive and a little 'less tender and lonely. Heart under glass, if I try a long breath collapse. And if swollen muscles I feel old and tired ... And I have been, only, like a lantern that vibrates in the remote darkness of the cave quest'umida, chained to a desire for revenge. But what of that? Who? Here there is no nobility in poverty / I'll remember you. Vibram bones, stomach, deep in my health. The highway is alive tonight and I will understand where I lead the presto.Verso a place where damned souls rest-I will welcome them to the Moto-Rally of emptiness. There is blood and pain and squalor and then ... there you are, once again. With your invoices are not credited / And I was still young that day when my eyes alighting on your lost rigidity. Last mambo in Fiumefreddo ...
Everything is consumed, even your orifice. Find answers in each slot em'infilerò vigorously investigating. Only my soul left to burn in a bonfire tonight redemptive. Only the lonely, only my body off and satisfied. Anime sweat up a scaffold soothing. My body knows no peace, but your language strikes me most about your whip. I tried to make this heart vibrate still dodge every bullet and silver, on this night of madness humoral / Your body burns, your body is dear to me, but the scent has changed, how my soul. Pity for the weak and blunt this sword. Never been resolved / Never tried truth at the bottom of my back, but there is always a first time and it was blank for a moment and then ... then it becomes corrupted in a lysergic mambo / Beer & Saliva, tears and hugs. Hold strong, Honey!
Grab the pleasure while it lasts. Tomorrow you could stop sigh. Give up on me, to my past. Groundhog Day dreaming, with your legs open and have no mercy, Not now! We'll meet again in a soft October night, and Fred Bongusto, razor on the velvet will invite us to dance to ease our discomfort. Hold me and caress my beard still a liar swindler.
Tonight I feel alive, innocent and immaculate, even for a moment. Where do we go now? We go out for a moment dall'Erotika Hotel: I'll let you drive in this mambo of redemption. Ride as if this is likely to depend on the defeat of my soul / Give me joy and peace, Gimme Shelter, baby! Maybe it is a wrong feeling alive and a little 'less tender and lonely. Heart under glass, if I try a long breath collapse. And if swollen muscles I feel old and tired ... And I have been, only, like a lantern that vibrates in the remote darkness of the cave quest'umida, chained to a desire for revenge. But what of that? Who? Here there is no nobility in poverty / I'll remember you. Vibram bones, stomach, deep in my health. The highway is alive tonight and I will understand where I lead the presto.Verso a place where damned souls rest-I will welcome them to the Moto-Rally of emptiness. There is blood and pain and squalor and then ... there you are, once again. With your invoices are not credited / And I was still young that day when my eyes alighting on your lost rigidity. Last mambo in Fiumefreddo ...
The sky is painted black for your kilt. Your breath fills the circles of cigarette smoke ... And I find myself again just to order take-away in this sad, perpetual cellar of despair / loners, quiet and meek who can not rebel against the killings. I remember that passage winding fill the room and my silence ... Where is the flame of a torch burning when the wind chill off? Lights in the dark, candle in the wind ... Lost Souls gone back to their peace. It knows no home my concern, but there is joy, as there was pain and misunderstanding. I lost everything, except myself and my pride of thorns. Will I ever find a place in the shelter? And people are ready to feel, and a smile behind which lose all suspicion. But life escapes and can not find it in my tattered socks / And the smile that every day wear as armor / And the trick that makes me closer to what they are not, for what is not there. A kaleidoscope of shapes and colors and my essence exploding, bursting with pearly fury in his eyes hungry for truth, my idealism turned into banality, my suffering in ecstasy, anything and everything in existence. And there's no nobility in my wretched clothes. It is always me what is wrong and hungry and sleep when no one is ready to offer a refreshment in this battered skin that was virile and now it no longer is. I hope Whether you're looking at this mysterious and dreamy moon. With the same dreamy romantic transportation: airplane fairy in a sky of stars desperate and dying, lost in sighs and glares in the barbarity of this vacuous resistance called life.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Effect Of Chest Infection On Fetus
Hotel - Hotel Intro
Hotel Erotika - (SRL)
"Oh, the gentlemen are talking and the midnight moon is on Riverside / They are drinking and walking and it's time for me to slip away / I live in another world where life and death are fixed in the memory / Where the land is tied with love beads and all I see are dark eyes "(Bob Dylan's" Dark Eyes ")
PART ONE
The rain continued. It was a constant rain (like pain), a hard rain and steaming rain that had sweat a burst, a burst, a dash, on the water, a whip over his eyes, a flood of rain any rain, along with I remember all the other rains. It rained a ton, a rain drumming, which beheaded the pine forest, cut trees like giant shears, shearing fields, digging tunnels in ground and dissolved bushes. Numb the hands of men in wrinkled hands by monkeys. It rained a shower glass, which had never end ...
Demetrius finally reached the Hotel Erotica. Out as two zombie, saw those scarecrows, soaked, exhausted, undone as chalk was melting. Demetrius had a face that had once been brown, but now the rain and loneliness, had washed up to fade, and the rain had diluted the color of the eyes were gray, like the teeth and her hair ... A thirty defeated in his burden to atone ...
An old neon purple heather which reads tel ... Mina's voice explodes in one of his incredible phrasing / A piano bar pianist, performs a sinuous suite that a reporter called and disillusioned romantic salute Rachel Lounge
Another night spent eroticism Hotel, to heal your wounds with the bourbon and the rough tongue of a trans desperate dreams of a different body, a few corners in most, a few less bells and whistles, and cuddly to be served to prevent more pain, more pain free, the voices of young unfortunates who did not like to spend time mistreating someone who has had setbacks since too much and pray God another, more magnanimous and compassionate, with a heart and strong arms ...
a selfish world that does not escape from a pure heart or helpless, until will have dug a groove that will become a callus of misunderstanding ... He wandered like a shadow in the night, this time in defeat, proudly holding a torch of hope and humanity.
"There's a world inside my world I can not reveal. A universe made of pieces of flesh and nerves, is a tattered shirt as a song by Willie Nelson. Blood on the windshield & lyrical amazement ancestral horror! There is a dream inside my world of Lardos thighs, languages \u200b\u200bsweatshirts, sweat, red wine and morning-after pills. It all sounds coitus lost or forgotten in this lonely night at 'Hotel Erotica, where the desperate gangrene as I mourn their loved one. E ' a symphony of despair, and as drops on my waterproof make me company. Everything remains on the surface and as a supposed heroin burning and tends to rise. A bump invades my meditation. Silver bullets have these memories, a past and a present cumbersome to decipher. But there is no magic nor innocence, only two slots that others call her eyes half-closed. I walked up to restless wandering and find my questions ever massacred by reality. Lying in my bed, perpetual seekers, more and more fragrant of ineffable Victorious Defeat. I see children and adults, wise and innocent, rebellious reactionaries who puts on clothes, holding out his hand in reward ... "
"Oh, the gentlemen are talking and the midnight moon is on Riverside / They are drinking and walking and it's time for me to slip away / I live in another world where life and death are fixed in the memory / Where the land is tied with love beads and all I see are dark eyes "(Bob Dylan's" Dark Eyes ")
PART ONE
The rain continued. It was a constant rain (like pain), a hard rain and steaming rain that had sweat a burst, a burst, a dash, on the water, a whip over his eyes, a flood of rain any rain, along with I remember all the other rains. It rained a ton, a rain drumming, which beheaded the pine forest, cut trees like giant shears, shearing fields, digging tunnels in ground and dissolved bushes. Numb the hands of men in wrinkled hands by monkeys. It rained a shower glass, which had never end ...
Demetrius finally reached the Hotel Erotica. Out as two zombie, saw those scarecrows, soaked, exhausted, undone as chalk was melting. Demetrius had a face that had once been brown, but now the rain and loneliness, had washed up to fade, and the rain had diluted the color of the eyes were gray, like the teeth and her hair ... A thirty defeated in his burden to atone ...
An old neon purple heather which reads tel ... Mina's voice explodes in one of his incredible phrasing / A piano bar pianist, performs a sinuous suite that a reporter called and disillusioned romantic salute Rachel Lounge
Another night spent eroticism Hotel, to heal your wounds with the bourbon and the rough tongue of a trans desperate dreams of a different body, a few corners in most, a few less bells and whistles, and cuddly to be served to prevent more pain, more pain free, the voices of young unfortunates who did not like to spend time mistreating someone who has had setbacks since too much and pray God another, more magnanimous and compassionate, with a heart and strong arms ...
a selfish world that does not escape from a pure heart or helpless, until will have dug a groove that will become a callus of misunderstanding ... He wandered like a shadow in the night, this time in defeat, proudly holding a torch of hope and humanity.
"There's a world inside my world I can not reveal. A universe made of pieces of flesh and nerves, is a tattered shirt as a song by Willie Nelson. Blood on the windshield & lyrical amazement ancestral horror! There is a dream inside my world of Lardos thighs, languages \u200b\u200bsweatshirts, sweat, red wine and morning-after pills. It all sounds coitus lost or forgotten in this lonely night at 'Hotel Erotica, where the desperate gangrene as I mourn their loved one. E ' a symphony of despair, and as drops on my waterproof make me company. Everything remains on the surface and as a supposed heroin burning and tends to rise. A bump invades my meditation. Silver bullets have these memories, a past and a present cumbersome to decipher. But there is no magic nor innocence, only two slots that others call her eyes half-closed. I walked up to restless wandering and find my questions ever massacred by reality. Lying in my bed, perpetual seekers, more and more fragrant of ineffable Victorious Defeat. I see children and adults, wise and innocent, rebellious reactionaries who puts on clothes, holding out his hand in reward ... "
another injection of confidence over my skin ... A kiss of friendship and complicity, something that neither money nor prestige can still corrupt. And when I pay you you're not a prostitute, but my mind, like Swiss cheese is covered with worms. Sitting in this room naked erotic Hotel, I always take that and the owner looked at me with making dubious, buttery look at your breasts, ready to fill my pain. Your buttocks soft and sinuous curves abound in perverse awareness. I always had a weakness for beautiful women with long hair and smooth, do not know how but I always kept a safe distance ... I drink consecrated by your blood mystical navel ... and for the first time I tell my obsessions, fears, and understanding that only you know to be a goddess, while the work of tongue, lips and smiles. I need your scent, tonight, I'm the ultimate warrior survived its destruction, as a white lion cub who wants to play with his brothers gone, sucking milk from the herd without slamming more about this gilded cage that smells like metal and carob. When We Were Kings, and when the Kings of the Sun and Come dressed in our skins as a sign of adoration. Perfect machine of force. Epitome of the Cosmos. Able to walk a few meters away in a gust of wind and to copulate until the end of the day. We will return to roar, we will return to reign. "The future belongs to us in our past." We were already predisposed to corruption, with a false idealism to be bandied about, ready to trade for a bedroom ephemeral our principles and our clothes. To put on sale: the heart, the cock, muscles ... all goes to the highest bidder, not necessarily to those who deserve our desires. We had the first and contaminate those things they took were the purity and the dream we chase in vain and now regret them, but we know of them depreciated and sold off as useless appendages that slowed the race, just as he lost the tail. There is a snake that crawls and charms, without falling style, perhaps because it has no style.
But it is always me what is wrong and hungry and sleep when no one is ready to offer relief to this troubled skin that was male and now it is not more ... And the symbolic value of things, but even the best families have lost their Heralds, and now you can not find your open bar whenever you have a dry throat just like you can not find the legs every time you open the flag hoisting. The vacuum horn plays wasted words that say he is not busy being born is busy dying ... There is no problem parent, I'm just a sigh ... Torn arid land that feeds on light and dark, the asphalt on the road burn, burn damn of sweat and ghosts. And perhaps it is a mirage that bottle of water and soil, left to die among the rocks and weeds of the desert. The Valkyrie of darkness is waiting for me at the crossroads of desires. Outside: The rain falls on the tree and the semen dries on the belly.
I hate the sun setting in the evening, makes me think that is my last lap. If tomorrow I'm like today, I'll pack up and go away from here. You must have a heart like a rock in the sea, otherwise she would not go so far away from me. But everything I own today are carob seeds for draft horses ... and all I see are dark eyes ...
But it is always me what is wrong and hungry and sleep when no one is ready to offer relief to this troubled skin that was male and now it is not more ... And the symbolic value of things, but even the best families have lost their Heralds, and now you can not find your open bar whenever you have a dry throat just like you can not find the legs every time you open the flag hoisting. The vacuum horn plays wasted words that say he is not busy being born is busy dying ... There is no problem parent, I'm just a sigh ... Torn arid land that feeds on light and dark, the asphalt on the road burn, burn damn of sweat and ghosts. And perhaps it is a mirage that bottle of water and soil, left to die among the rocks and weeds of the desert. The Valkyrie of darkness is waiting for me at the crossroads of desires. Outside: The rain falls on the tree and the semen dries on the belly.
I hate the sun setting in the evening, makes me think that is my last lap. If tomorrow I'm like today, I'll pack up and go away from here. You must have a heart like a rock in the sea, otherwise she would not go so far away from me. But everything I own today are carob seeds for draft horses ... and all I see are dark eyes ...
call me perverted, but my only perversion is still persist in wanting to breathe. But I'm not going to give in to Them, call me an idealist from the mattress, a smelly mutandaro, and is, after all my god invented man because he was disappointed with the monkey. There are many good ways to protect yourself from temptations, but the best is cowardice. Your steaming broth covers all my sad scar, my imperfect certainties are covered with fluff, and my thoughts brooding resignation and hatred, in that old chest ...
tired and lost in the rain, heat and deadly as the greed, such as sand eyes. Brother in arms, our delivery is not to give an outpost of putrid mud. Dissolute living room, rejected cocktail bar, Masked and Anonymous. Hospital buildings as temples to the diseases they are creating. I'll get out of my mouth just fire and flames, poison pours forth from my cuore.Una possible redemption will give us another chance for error. The last thing a sensible man can do is to stand with the people. Ready to fight my battle. The best way to be happy is to try to cheer somebody else.
Notes
The acronym stands for SRL greet Rachel Lounge
Characters and performers (actors anonymous and won)
Demetrius (Demetrius Call)
Rachel (Rachel salute)
The waitress in the bar (let us give a good tip)
tired and lost in the rain, heat and deadly as the greed, such as sand eyes. Brother in arms, our delivery is not to give an outpost of putrid mud. Dissolute living room, rejected cocktail bar, Masked and Anonymous. Hospital buildings as temples to the diseases they are creating. I'll get out of my mouth just fire and flames, poison pours forth from my cuore.Una possible redemption will give us another chance for error. The last thing a sensible man can do is to stand with the people. Ready to fight my battle. The best way to be happy is to try to cheer somebody else.
Notes
The acronym stands for SRL greet Rachel Lounge
Characters and performers (actors anonymous and won)
Demetrius (Demetrius Call)
Rachel (Rachel salute)
The waitress in the bar (let us give a good tip)
How To Get Money From Recycling Milk Containers
Erotika - Erotika Hotel What
Hotel Erotika What?
What Erotika Hotel?
Hi! My name is Elvis Spectrum
This idea came in a boring afternoon and create a team blog. The purpose of this blog is to create a story in collaboration with anyone who wants to participate ... I will give only a few
Directive and the initial idea ...
is in turmoil and a workshop designed to give voice to anyone who wants to participate!
then that's okay ...
Let's start at the Hotel Erotika! 
Hotel Erotika What?
What Erotika Hotel?
Hi! My name is Elvis Spectrum
This idea came in a boring afternoon and create a team blog. The purpose of this blog is to create a story in collaboration with anyone who wants to participate ... I will give only a few
Directive and the initial idea ...
is in turmoil and a workshop designed to give voice to anyone who wants to participate!
then that's okay ...
Let's start at the Hotel Erotika!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Relationships With Cancer-leo Cusp Man
number zero Release Date: Monday, August 18, 2008 - the deadline for delivery of the work will always be the Friday prior to 'Output heading, by 10:00 am. First deadline Friday, August 15, 2008;
Visibility: two color pages included within the normal foliation of Daily Basilicata ;
Frequency: weekly
will created within the newspaper's website, a section from which you can download the pdf pages satirical;
The sending of the documents does not guarantee publication. It will be the editors of the newspaper to decide what to publish. The partnerships do not provide compensation :-(
Thanks to all! GL :-) cell 328/9690870
ps: work has to be sent (in tif or jpg format, resolution 300 dpi or 600 - Save a minimum size, maximum 20 c each side) ilquotidianodellasatira@gmail.com
pps: welcome also the work of satire written ...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Pressing Breastsof Womans
THE FIRST NUMBER YOU NEVER FORGET THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The bunch of misfits , after just two months after the publication of the number 0, failed, armed with good will and after many vicissitudes, to lay out, photocopy and staple the coveted first edition of Lancelot .
The bunch of misfits , after just two months after the publication of the number 0, failed, armed with good will and after many vicissitudes, to lay out, photocopy and staple the coveted first edition of Lancelot .
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
How To Remove The Toner Of Samsung Ml1610
;-) ^ _ ^
For those who were there and for those who do not want to forget.
A weekly (hopefully) through the publication of the various amateur work undertaken during the year, retrace all the long and winding road that led a handful di svitati dalla costituzione dell' Arthur King Fan Club sino alla nascita della Associazione La Nuvola Scarlatta .
Settembre 1994, Lancelot #0
For those who were there and for those who do not want to forget.
A weekly (hopefully) through the publication of the various amateur work undertaken during the year, retrace all the long and winding road that led a handful di svitati dalla costituzione dell' Arthur King Fan Club sino alla nascita della Associazione La Nuvola Scarlatta .
Settembre 1994, Lancelot #0
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Fast Growing Vegetables From Seed
EMERY
E' Stato pubblicato da Davide Zedda Editore il libro Smerigli , raccolta di 12 racconti scritti da Mario Loparco . Classe 1968, l'autore ha conseguito la maturità classica e la qualifica di progettista delle comunicazioni audiovisive. Ha collaborato come grafico con case editrici e agenzie di grafica e pubblicità regional and national. He works in a bakery factory, is married and has three children. Since 2004 he is member of the cultural association "La Scarlet Cloud". He has several publications in collective works and won, by fifteen years later, numerous awards and accolades in artistic and literary competitions.
Sand am fine, effective tools to finish, which enrich and ennoble
contact ...
Sand tiny hawks are flying high, very fast,
sight particularly acute ... Sand
are examples of a family of sharks,
skilled predators, Sand formidable sense of smell ...
are twelve stories agile,
that have many features in common with the porbeagle ...
normal men and women, people who could meet in our lives every day are the protagonists of these stories.
Faced with their reality, each reacts according to its nature. Sometimes not making unorthodox choices, asking for eternal life or choosing a thirst for power led to cynical sense of relief against stupid childhood friends. Sometimes, however, following the path of consistency and fairness, by truncating a passion harmful or preferring to pay a higher price to avoid falling prey to illegal practices.
Loparco Mario prepares a collection of twelve stories agile, light and delicate, speaking of love, intentions, temptations and memories.
Index
1. Sconcerto
4th place at the Second Prize of Literature and Theatre "Nicola Martucci, Valenzano (Ba), May 22, 2004 / Report to the IV International Competition of the poem" The voices of the soul ", Cartura (Padova), March 19 2000
"On the one element that may seem trivial, the author has managed to develop a view on the aspects of reality around us: not everything is as it seems, and the surface is hiding something on the other, so he is forced to a sort of self-analysis, to question, in front of an irrepressible sense of unease. " (the jury)
2.
Explorer 7th place to V Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 15, 2002
3. Some memories
Honorable Mention at the III Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 17, 2000
4. All of a piece
3rd place at the VIII Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 11, 2005
5. A damn passion
1st prize in the Narrative Competition II "Love Stories", Male (Pz), August 6, 2006
6. A blast from the past
3rd place at the IV Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 16, 2001
7. The rules genial
8. The obscure warning
9. Deception on deception
10. The occasion
6th place in the Fourth Prize for Literature and Theatre "Nicola Martucci, Valenzano (Ba), June 3, 2006
11. Pruning
2 nd prize at the Competition Narrative "stories ... country," Male (Pz), August 6, 2005 / Report on the IX Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 10, 2006
"The protagonists of the story are men who face life with determination, and with the specific desire to realize their own resources and as to emerge (see story by Boccaccio), to win its place in the world must be disabled, that's true virtue is intelligence ... yesterday and today, that is the ability to exploit the situation to their advantage.
to the authenticity of feelings that are transmitted through a clear and incisive style ... For the pleasure
to tell, and why not, fun. "(the jury)
12. In search of lost seeker 
E' Stato pubblicato da Davide Zedda Editore il libro Smerigli , raccolta di 12 racconti scritti da Mario Loparco . Classe 1968, l'autore ha conseguito la maturità classica e la qualifica di progettista delle comunicazioni audiovisive. Ha collaborato come grafico con case editrici e agenzie di grafica e pubblicità regional and national. He works in a bakery factory, is married and has three children. Since 2004 he is member of the cultural association "La Scarlet Cloud". He has several publications in collective works and won, by fifteen years later, numerous awards and accolades in artistic and literary competitions.
contact ...
Sand tiny hawks are flying high, very fast,
sight particularly acute ... Sand
are examples of a family of sharks,
skilled predators, Sand formidable sense of smell ...
are twelve stories agile,
that have many features in common with the porbeagle ...
normal men and women, people who could meet in our lives every day are the protagonists of these stories.
Faced with their reality, each reacts according to its nature. Sometimes not making unorthodox choices, asking for eternal life or choosing a thirst for power led to cynical sense of relief against stupid childhood friends. Sometimes, however, following the path of consistency and fairness, by truncating a passion harmful or preferring to pay a higher price to avoid falling prey to illegal practices.
Loparco Mario prepares a collection of twelve stories agile, light and delicate, speaking of love, intentions, temptations and memories.
Index
1. Sconcerto
4th place at the Second Prize of Literature and Theatre "Nicola Martucci, Valenzano (Ba), May 22, 2004 / Report to the IV International Competition of the poem" The voices of the soul ", Cartura (Padova), March 19 2000
"On the one element that may seem trivial, the author has managed to develop a view on the aspects of reality around us: not everything is as it seems, and the surface is hiding something on the other, so he is forced to a sort of self-analysis, to question, in front of an irrepressible sense of unease. " (the jury)
2.
Explorer 7th place to V Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 15, 2002
3. Some memories
Honorable Mention at the III Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 17, 2000
4. All of a piece
3rd place at the VIII Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 11, 2005
5. A damn passion
1st prize in the Narrative Competition II "Love Stories", Male (Pz), August 6, 2006
6. A blast from the past
3rd place at the IV Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 16, 2001
7. The rules genial
8. The obscure warning
9. Deception on deception
10. The occasion
6th place in the Fourth Prize for Literature and Theatre "Nicola Martucci, Valenzano (Ba), June 3, 2006
11. Pruning
2 nd prize at the Competition Narrative "stories ... country," Male (Pz), August 6, 2005 / Report on the IX Literary Award Observatory, Bari, December 10, 2006
"The protagonists of the story are men who face life with determination, and with the specific desire to realize their own resources and as to emerge (see story by Boccaccio), to win its place in the world must be disabled, that's true virtue is intelligence ... yesterday and today, that is the ability to exploit the situation to their advantage.
to the authenticity of feelings that are transmitted through a clear and incisive style ... For the pleasure
to tell, and why not, fun. "(the jury)
12. In search of lost seeker
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Rightsoundtmtechnology
the photo in the dark as a dim memory vague
here are other examples of photos .....
lacks only a solo in the background of Dizzy Gillespie 
here are other examples of photos .....
lacks only a solo in the background of Dizzy Gillespie
Friday, January 25, 2008
as the first post in this blog I introduce myself with these two "crazy visions" 
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