wrong, contingencies beyond
was unhappy, he knew his mother "... and no worse feeling in an unhappy that hurts your whore mother" - told me one night of drunkenness absolute peak holding a broken bottle while I was trying to rescue his lost tranquility. Perhaps the bullet that months later, half embedded in the skull has to do with the index finger of his mother.
I met in a flamenco bar, played guitar completely confused, then one answered about her outfit, a shirt soiled with dirt and on the neck was wrapped a red ribbon which sought to mimic a tie. After his performance, he settled in a corner of the bar, was almost imperceptible if it were not the bar which was packed with people playing outrageous, was why that caught my attention. That same day I first saw it, I came to recognize the passion with which he gave his flamenco guitar. It did not do so because the first two sentences he interrupted me abruptly "if a beer is better you can go to my room at this moment" said.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
12 Dpo With A Yeast Infection
not want to get into misunderstandings and you busted my fist against his immense nose, a couple of hours sitting in the gutter, in front of that bar us hand cuddled respectfully.
Since childhood I was curious to marginal lives, I cursed my luck to have a family "normal" , because my father change diapers and clean my mother's nose or I wait for hot food. Did not want them dead but quite far, but you know, all the like religion is like a perpetual state of dissatisfaction for a hot prayers of hope, something like winning the jackpot without buying a lottery . However for Paco was reason enough to be called unhappy, not because they had a mother like mine, but because he hated mothers like yours, for someone who knows something about emotions, it will seem absurd to hate her mother, but that winter afternoon satin, leaden as purgatory, the way to the bar I knew something of the feeling of mother. Paquita
met in the bar that his son was a beautiful woman no one appeared to be mother, raven hair and starched suit, slipped by him with overwhelming elegance board flamenco. I never imagined that it was the mother of Paco, but it sure loaded with such certainty, I also discovered that never agreed on that bar, or that either had seen them together, I knew well that he professed to hate her for being gay and he by being a prostitute. When I met Paco and I asked him how he did so, she evaded me.
After what Paco never saw her, sometimes I think it was the same person, I sometimes think that if you sink it near my esophagus trigger kill her.
Since childhood I was curious to marginal lives, I cursed my luck to have a family "normal" , because my father change diapers and clean my mother's nose or I wait for hot food. Did not want them dead but quite far, but you know, all the like religion is like a perpetual state of dissatisfaction for a hot prayers of hope, something like winning the jackpot without buying a lottery . However for Paco was reason enough to be called unhappy, not because they had a mother like mine, but because he hated mothers like yours, for someone who knows something about emotions, it will seem absurd to hate her mother, but that winter afternoon satin, leaden as purgatory, the way to the bar I knew something of the feeling of mother. Paquita
met in the bar that his son was a beautiful woman no one appeared to be mother, raven hair and starched suit, slipped by him with overwhelming elegance board flamenco. I never imagined that it was the mother of Paco, but it sure loaded with such certainty, I also discovered that never agreed on that bar, or that either had seen them together, I knew well that he professed to hate her for being gay and he by being a prostitute. When I met Paco and I asked him how he did so, she evaded me.
After what Paco never saw her, sometimes I think it was the same person, I sometimes think that if you sink it near my esophagus trigger kill her.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Marylin Chambers Mpeg
A cold blooded animal
I have been a kind of myth, a religious story, unclear, confusing words, personalities outdated and that externally: look away, a hellish magnetism of someone who actually existed.
Every Saturday morning I met the love of my life and the next day I died a thousand ways, in here, all my deaths have been in here. I remember one of them, that night in winter, winds confused, out of a robbery, was that money would buy a TV to watch the football World , but nothing happened. I only enough for two bottles of vodka, was a lot of money and the poor quality vodka, five-blank shot and a coup de grace son fucking whores! Despite announcing his arrival, I never know exactly when they are in front of me and it's too late when I go over like a steamroller, who knows, if here they all end up betraying alive with the enemy within.
not bear my misery sewn back, not that I like cloudy days, I do not care if sunny or rainy, but I have a hole in your soul and that is not cured with vodka and you get lost with amphetamines.
Honestly, I can not with so many to their deaths by the few, is it because their bodies buried in the courtyard of infection, also from within?, Why does everything have to be inside?, As the faults that should be out and have an expiration date and today is not Saturday but should meet the love of my life.
And if you see that woman I will say I have a hole in his chest, offering it on sale directly to see if they filled a whole.
And when this is over and all I have collapse, give me a piece with it and so perhaps there is only the first time.
Every Saturday morning I met the love of my life and the next day I died a thousand ways, in here, all my deaths have been in here. I remember one of them, that night in winter, winds confused, out of a robbery, was that money would buy a TV to watch the football World , but nothing happened. I only enough for two bottles of vodka, was a lot of money and the poor quality vodka, five-blank shot and a coup de grace son fucking whores! Despite announcing his arrival, I never know exactly when they are in front of me and it's too late when I go over like a steamroller, who knows, if here they all end up betraying alive with the enemy within.
not bear my misery sewn back, not that I like cloudy days, I do not care if sunny or rainy, but I have a hole in your soul and that is not cured with vodka and you get lost with amphetamines.
Honestly, I can not with so many to their deaths by the few, is it because their bodies buried in the courtyard of infection, also from within?, Why does everything have to be inside?, As the faults that should be out and have an expiration date and today is not Saturday but should meet the love of my life.
And if you see that woman I will say I have a hole in his chest, offering it on sale directly to see if they filled a whole.
And when this is over and all I have collapse, give me a piece with it and so perhaps there is only the first time.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Lexington County Register Deeds
That scared
Road to my past, I have climbed in that old car to take me to that amalgam of memories, simple routine, nothing special, at least not today. I preferred to see through the window, I hate to see through the window with your head supported by the transparent sheet, with your eyes laconic and lost.
the other side of the window and on the move detainees in the station is off, the lights are distorted and travel through a tunnel as an endless shell runs in few minutes an unlimited world, galloping giraffes and rhinos huge caterpillars turn into fireflies announce the first season, then I go back inside and that another world is hardly bleak narrow much punishment does not fit a stock market point of sardines out and a bottle of oil drops that drop heavy list to slide.
When you ride in a wagon and have no more output to continue, you stop in daily travelers in their haste in December are consuming vast stores of colors, can not stand the stores are color should be gray and deep windows dark to see only find your reflection cold face and an empty body. Should seize your clothes and a gang of boys dissidents the windows painted black.
As I imagining this trip so much I wonder why you can not smoke in the cars? Why you no longer feel no woman next to me smelling of sex between the legs? and so I stopped so much speculation, why do we spend our lives in one go and return continuum? And why not stop this car and I already low at any station in the middle of the shell, the end of this tunnel?. However
have begun to cowboy movies on wagons, the children run around the corridors Desfundando fingers pistols, submachine arms ; the nagging mothers, nearly all are overweight and pregnant, the more attractive girl dreams of that baby in her womb, if only someone would hurt.
It's almost my station, after a few minutes this will all be gone.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Schematics Of Crosman Night Prowler
studied the Bachelor of Health Sciences, I can be considered "science" against what the Government says about my career. A person who has studied
science can at least understand the basics - very basic - on physical equations or chemical formulation. In any case, today I read about Chaos Theory, and although I am far from understanding certain words, I like to stay with what is applicable to human behavior. True, the scientific rigor of this is null but as a hobby is not bad.
Why was seeking information about Chaos Theory? Well, it turns out that when life seems to be putting things in place tend to show events that take you away from this equilibrium that is as psychological / social / political correctness.
And ... then what?
Would you question it all?
Do you question anything?
Do you hide? "You run into
your past?
you escape "(plain)?
Trying to ignore the path diverted Having A "right"?
crazy "everyone?
Do you go to the street plan "Falling Down"?
Well, in my case I'm going to eat bacon. The bad dreams be responsible for everything else .
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Medical Confidentiality Clause Sample
Notes from exile
again.
Bring a strange week. Unusual dreams, stomach rare weirdos ... missing something familiar, something known, something unpleasant: /
again. seems that the years pass, something funny that make me feel "young."
Bring a strange week. Unusual dreams, stomach rare weirdos ... missing something familiar, something known, something unpleasant: /
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