notes
in the middle ground between the balcony and my room is cold and I have my right hand completely frozen. I remember a few years ago before going to sleep I closed the door the balcony in summer, for fear of bring me down to sleep. the dream would take precedence over reality, and I would fall for real.
on my folder it says 1610, the Starry Messenger, John Locke, a life for the cinema. all concepts that have left much of what they found. I wonder whether that is growing, to be invested billions of words until you get the right one, and you run. the goal is not important or road signs, the metric nor the grammatical construction.
I imagine a deserter who sings, leaning against my window. is high and has a face like the moon, occasionally smiling. Remember that you steam.
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Monday, October 13, 2003
10th Doctor Metal Sonic Screwdriver
ah
'Man, alive' as the title page of the friends to come here just because I put a Fracci of people who go to Google and search people alive.
'Man, alive' as the title page of the friends to come here just because I put a Fracci of people who go to Google and search people alive.
Can Gelmicin Be Used For Acne?
title
VOICE VOICE IN PHASE-in counter
burns like a slap in the face or a kiss just given, this perspective-standing film in which the views of others becomes yours, or you become the point of view others. be dressed as the grandmother or the store, it seems that face extreme difference be able to immerse themselves in the shoes of others, quiet and infused with a kind of sense of the sacred. a person's eyes are his most sense and therefore agencies to give respect. not so the brain and the heart that are known the subject of rape, technique and study formalisms, rather than free expression.
no music may be interested except that I feel, is the only thing that changes me, and differs from all others for which I feel love, while a good sense of powerlessness on the facts of which I am a witness to sign pacts of non-intervention. a sense of possibility is not dead and buried with wine, cigarettes and mobile phone, a status symbol of a lifestyle that is not mine.
(screaming from upstairs)
hours should I force myself to give this a cinematic perspective or outline for voices, faces a sintomaticità as ideas, classes and generations. but the faces are white, not even the lineaments subjective that I give.
I took a HUGE hit on the head
at this point a voice that is not no one had said 'you too will die one day', and I am sure that someone has said that I missed. I give the ear, because I think it's worth, because the dogs bite until they forget that the queue is ecstatic that they have in their mouth is, I also ride on the same concepts and perspective silent cinema, cafes and abusatissimo bullet time, not to mention the fact that the modern variety that I use on myself does not help me to keep my head straight in front of someone or something, or at least next to the faces of the people and the words incomprehensible to me why the result to another story and another age, beyond the stairs.
within each of us is a little baby bug in need of affection.
VOICE VOICE IN PHASE-in counter
burns like a slap in the face or a kiss just given, this perspective-standing film in which the views of others becomes yours, or you become the point of view others. be dressed as the grandmother or the store, it seems that face extreme difference be able to immerse themselves in the shoes of others, quiet and infused with a kind of sense of the sacred. a person's eyes are his most sense and therefore agencies to give respect. not so the brain and the heart that are known the subject of rape, technique and study formalisms, rather than free expression.
no music may be interested except that I feel, is the only thing that changes me, and differs from all others for which I feel love, while a good sense of powerlessness on the facts of which I am a witness to sign pacts of non-intervention. a sense of possibility is not dead and buried with wine, cigarettes and mobile phone, a status symbol of a lifestyle that is not mine.
(screaming from upstairs)
hours should I force myself to give this a cinematic perspective or outline for voices, faces a sintomaticità as ideas, classes and generations. but the faces are white, not even the lineaments subjective that I give.
I took a HUGE hit on the head
at this point a voice that is not no one had said 'you too will die one day', and I am sure that someone has said that I missed. I give the ear, because I think it's worth, because the dogs bite until they forget that the queue is ecstatic that they have in their mouth is, I also ride on the same concepts and perspective silent cinema, cafes and abusatissimo bullet time, not to mention the fact that the modern variety that I use on myself does not help me to keep my head straight in front of someone or something, or at least next to the faces of the people and the words incomprehensible to me why the result to another story and another age, beyond the stairs.
within each of us is a little baby bug in need of affection.
Thursday, October 9, 2003
Is It Bad To Send Interview Thank You Late
coincidenzuole
returning from the walk in which I had the idea to make me a picture in my red and blue elevator that goes to pieces. Obviously I did not because I'm a lazy shit. it seems that I will not ever again, because today I get home, and I find the car completely covered in fake wood paneling that stink horribly.
mah.
returning from the walk in which I had the idea to make me a picture in my red and blue elevator that goes to pieces. Obviously I did not because I'm a lazy shit. it seems that I will not ever again, because today I get home, and I find the car completely covered in fake wood paneling that stink horribly.
mah.
Sunday, October 5, 2003
Desmume Pokemon Soul Silver
When I Was Young, Younger Than Before
so eventually I'll laugh and your finger because you deserve it and I'll tell you that from here to my house on foot there goes an hour, and you tell me one hour? less, by, and I'll say no, that Once I made it with dida gardens where the brother of t. he split his head in my house it took us an hour, then synchronize the clocks and see. I go out, I look at the freshly painted lady, I go to the left winds up in front of the barred window, in July n. I chipped a beam with his fist, the gap is still there, even microfracture that finger. step in front of house No Italy to the site of force, then I think that in fact in an hour I could get bored and have something to read would not be too bad, so I open the mailbox to force Italy (the lock on the grounds that I know perfectly it does not take more ) and I take the post, but it's all crap and advertising of a company that sells names, so I put everything in stock and we ponder about. step onto the bridge where l. and No paid by small children in the Moroccan pornazzi because the fishermen pulled the stones, I quickly state up to the distributor, the next step almost sexy shop that it was said that the central one being held on zara crank popper, just that you had to go there and Secret say the magic word, like we have that video with the Mauritian paradise and scorpions, they would tell you no, but if you want to see him do the same, and ta dan, but of course it was all quite false. I'm still a bit 'of steps, take a bike path nonsense, step to the right just after the cemetery and the stone mason, then the junction ghost road that leads to that I hope never decide to end because it is so beautiful. erika on the overpass is written only six but which has the k, for which I have no idea just who it is. first sign, according to the country, here end the memories of others to my interlaced. I watch if by chance I can still get a pack of cigarettes goes to the bar where my father before work but it is closed, then across the street to all'Esselunga and control that unsold goods are still in place one by one, the account moons, stars and street lamps and make a different piece of road in the middle of the factories, the ones that are closing and those who resist resist resist, there is a huge lawn where I always wanted roll over but the lawn is and if someone is someone you can not. second sign, third country, next to the step road pub that is a third way for the rod starting from where I left me, there is the Chinese side of the happy hour where perennial glappa lose it costs a euro, the road pubs are paying the fine and good blues rock, sin that are exactly the same songs I heard when I went there the other day. before arriving at the great I realize that I want to do the other way and that the time taken to l. I can tell another time, so in place inside, I also thirsty but the fountain of the elementary school does not go, I press the button with both hands, throw a football, but remains closed, so step forward and there is the meadow where we went one evening I do not remember what we were doing there and we left him lying on the grass and just die and I swear it was anything but romantic. I go tonight, we talked again about when we were kids and visited places absurd and we busted adrenaline and I threw it there on the table with great nonchalance of the villa in small and others that I do not know over the wall and the fountain and Child and all, and ensure them enough but we went to the villa where they were cridis black masses and the maid found dead of a heart attack in the garden and the man died in an artesian well and there are drug addicts to get the pears, then I do tell everyone but then I think that is I have in my back. I throw the eye through the bars of the gate and is a darkness that is frightening, then turn my back to the gate when I hold very strong feeling that the first object in his pocket between his fingers, and I have a motion sickness when I realize that this is the phone. I slam in the bag for not doing more. sign third, fourth country, I'm coming inexorably home, I stopped at a traffic circle struck by something but can not seem to be snow, ice and indeed it is downloaded to the ground like a fish truck. ahead and on the right side I have the clay bank where I am as sure of us have dug for fossils as a child, I had even a tiny shell whole, and I kept them at home in the biscuit tin Danish I did not until my mom threw them in the trash, and even now I do not understand why. Scazzi me, I see a flower in a hedge and decided that at least tonight I bring home some flowers, so I try to capture but the stem is hard, I cut it with the Swiss and I take the flower, which, inter alia, to ' analysis turns out to be a fucking chrysanthemum. Oh well, I'll put on the table, five yards away from a cespuglione uprooting violet hydrangea. step outside the house than the average exchange games with me, I just know where his home studio with computer and needless to say the light is on. I realize that I do not want to go home and reached the path, step into the middle of the lane that completely dark flows on the playground, dogs bark, I bark, a few yards began to see them, they, the cats. are everywhere, lord it, and we see inside out. I try to approach one but I suck, then placed on the ground all the possible sources of discomfort, flowers, handbag, I approach, I move away, we study some more ', then you tired and disappears. also step in front of the beautiful old house with the tortoise, who knows if he is still alive, I mean the turtle. Cutting a rose bush and a pale yellow until I hole the index with a plug I think the turtle. I look at the pink petals, and according to which loses more than I already blossomed, but it's just sick and whitish mold has stuck below the corolla. the clean with a cloth, and I'll take it.
do the street where I live, and I feel very stupid thinking that instead of these pounds, liters, meters of terraced houses there was only grass and vines. step in front of the residence of amaranth T. and T., who summer between the approval of the street children had written a letter warning them that they should die in some way so frightening as to shit on me that even writing it. I steal as I pass the number 5 of porcelain, the yellow flashing light on the gate, anything that may disappear only to be my legacy and indelible memory and not reflected in the world of the living. I walk the few yards that I miss the gate without thinking of the five murder victims in the garden of pine trees in front of my house, nor to any other items that the myth of my own or of another memory has turned into living symbols, nor the kites made of wrapping paper and frameless because I was already full of practical spirit to five years and did not know that we wanted, and I was wondering how the hell did you make it work.
I get home, there's my mom in the kitchen, eat or smoke or do something else. I can think to ask because at one point I threw away the fossils, and I also believe that if you remember, but I give up and greeted her with a kiss. I put the flowers in the vase and I think what they are good together, I think Japanese art of making feel good with the flowers and I can not remember the name, it was something with the k, perhaps harakiri.
When I Was Young, Younger Than Before ...
so eventually I'll laugh and your finger because you deserve it and I'll tell you that from here to my house on foot there goes an hour, and you tell me one hour? less, by, and I'll say no, that Once I made it with dida gardens where the brother of t. he split his head in my house it took us an hour, then synchronize the clocks and see. I go out, I look at the freshly painted lady, I go to the left winds up in front of the barred window, in July n. I chipped a beam with his fist, the gap is still there, even microfracture that finger. step in front of house No Italy to the site of force, then I think that in fact in an hour I could get bored and have something to read would not be too bad, so I open the mailbox to force Italy (the lock on the grounds that I know perfectly it does not take more ) and I take the post, but it's all crap and advertising of a company that sells names, so I put everything in stock and we ponder about. step onto the bridge where l. and No paid by small children in the Moroccan pornazzi because the fishermen pulled the stones, I quickly state up to the distributor, the next step almost sexy shop that it was said that the central one being held on zara crank popper, just that you had to go there and Secret say the magic word, like we have that video with the Mauritian paradise and scorpions, they would tell you no, but if you want to see him do the same, and ta dan, but of course it was all quite false. I'm still a bit 'of steps, take a bike path nonsense, step to the right just after the cemetery and the stone mason, then the junction ghost road that leads to that I hope never decide to end because it is so beautiful. erika on the overpass is written only six but which has the k, for which I have no idea just who it is. first sign, according to the country, here end the memories of others to my interlaced. I watch if by chance I can still get a pack of cigarettes goes to the bar where my father before work but it is closed, then across the street to all'Esselunga and control that unsold goods are still in place one by one, the account moons, stars and street lamps and make a different piece of road in the middle of the factories, the ones that are closing and those who resist resist resist, there is a huge lawn where I always wanted roll over but the lawn is and if someone is someone you can not. second sign, third country, next to the step road pub that is a third way for the rod starting from where I left me, there is the Chinese side of the happy hour where perennial glappa lose it costs a euro, the road pubs are paying the fine and good blues rock, sin that are exactly the same songs I heard when I went there the other day. before arriving at the great I realize that I want to do the other way and that the time taken to l. I can tell another time, so in place inside, I also thirsty but the fountain of the elementary school does not go, I press the button with both hands, throw a football, but remains closed, so step forward and there is the meadow where we went one evening I do not remember what we were doing there and we left him lying on the grass and just die and I swear it was anything but romantic. I go tonight, we talked again about when we were kids and visited places absurd and we busted adrenaline and I threw it there on the table with great nonchalance of the villa in small and others that I do not know over the wall and the fountain and Child and all, and ensure them enough but we went to the villa where they were cridis black masses and the maid found dead of a heart attack in the garden and the man died in an artesian well and there are drug addicts to get the pears, then I do tell everyone but then I think that is I have in my back. I throw the eye through the bars of the gate and is a darkness that is frightening, then turn my back to the gate when I hold very strong feeling that the first object in his pocket between his fingers, and I have a motion sickness when I realize that this is the phone. I slam in the bag for not doing more. sign third, fourth country, I'm coming inexorably home, I stopped at a traffic circle struck by something but can not seem to be snow, ice and indeed it is downloaded to the ground like a fish truck. ahead and on the right side I have the clay bank where I am as sure of us have dug for fossils as a child, I had even a tiny shell whole, and I kept them at home in the biscuit tin Danish I did not until my mom threw them in the trash, and even now I do not understand why. Scazzi me, I see a flower in a hedge and decided that at least tonight I bring home some flowers, so I try to capture but the stem is hard, I cut it with the Swiss and I take the flower, which, inter alia, to ' analysis turns out to be a fucking chrysanthemum. Oh well, I'll put on the table, five yards away from a cespuglione uprooting violet hydrangea. step outside the house than the average exchange games with me, I just know where his home studio with computer and needless to say the light is on. I realize that I do not want to go home and reached the path, step into the middle of the lane that completely dark flows on the playground, dogs bark, I bark, a few yards began to see them, they, the cats. are everywhere, lord it, and we see inside out. I try to approach one but I suck, then placed on the ground all the possible sources of discomfort, flowers, handbag, I approach, I move away, we study some more ', then you tired and disappears. also step in front of the beautiful old house with the tortoise, who knows if he is still alive, I mean the turtle. Cutting a rose bush and a pale yellow until I hole the index with a plug I think the turtle. I look at the pink petals, and according to which loses more than I already blossomed, but it's just sick and whitish mold has stuck below the corolla. the clean with a cloth, and I'll take it.
do the street where I live, and I feel very stupid thinking that instead of these pounds, liters, meters of terraced houses there was only grass and vines. step in front of the residence of amaranth T. and T., who summer between the approval of the street children had written a letter warning them that they should die in some way so frightening as to shit on me that even writing it. I steal as I pass the number 5 of porcelain, the yellow flashing light on the gate, anything that may disappear only to be my legacy and indelible memory and not reflected in the world of the living. I walk the few yards that I miss the gate without thinking of the five murder victims in the garden of pine trees in front of my house, nor to any other items that the myth of my own or of another memory has turned into living symbols, nor the kites made of wrapping paper and frameless because I was already full of practical spirit to five years and did not know that we wanted, and I was wondering how the hell did you make it work.
I get home, there's my mom in the kitchen, eat or smoke or do something else. I can think to ask because at one point I threw away the fossils, and I also believe that if you remember, but I give up and greeted her with a kiss. I put the flowers in the vase and I think what they are good together, I think Japanese art of making feel good with the flowers and I can not remember the name, it was something with the k, perhaps harakiri.
When I Was Young, Younger Than Before ...
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