Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Free-gay-in Public Toilets

Solitaire Player's Handbook Summer Reading

Chapter 1:2, solitaire games on children: the invisible friend

"... The end of the invisible friends often tragic or pathetic. Death or neglect are often the ways that their invisibility is made evident.'s death, such After the last game, it becomes a family event. Parents and siblings are informed of the death, and details are known causes in which the creative power of the child exceeds the level of their normal appearances. Sometimes death serves to enforce the actions it is founded: the hatred of a younger brother (he was the one who killed the invisible friend), suspicion about the treatment provided by a maid (the person who lives in my house but not my family, she has thrown away my friend), fear of a parent (...) these feelings would not be justifiable in the mind of the child, without a death involved, or without mediate what the child says that is death. Forgetting a
usually invisible friend embryonic create a sense of nostalgia. One day the boy discovers that long ago does not play with him. Try again times together, for a couple of days brings to mind, submit it to his brothers, talking about it. But the routine hides again until the final oblivion. Because the child feels, and unwittingly discovers that he forgot the invisible friend can no longer remember, since it is now another. So with this insidious death, invisible friend dies and dies with him his creator. Was this helpful invisible friend, then, to cushion the violence of the first death of the person. Perhaps, then, do not treat this case of death of the invisible friend but of its merger with the visible ... "

Monday, December 11, 2006

Top Rated Resorts On Interval International



The other evening, in the marathon of readings and new technologies applied to the concept of literary gathering, organized by the kind people inside the company Tamariscos , read this short story. The idea was to present a text that had something to do with the theme: summer. I dove in My Documents, y. .. eureka!
I sat on the chaise, had a projector behind me with 'the letra'-songwriters because we are now, or literate. So I just dedicated to creating music with a box of musical and human voice.
A story a bit odd, with a touch of humor that pacoquis who live here try to remove jumping from all over the press 'delete'. Let's see.


winter not know


Jonah has a rare disease, your body can not stand the cold.
His mother told me: "I still remember the doctor: 'you must not know the winter." So said. Jonah was two months old, was present when the doctor diagnosed him ... and never talked about it, but I think that must agree: it have perfect pitch. "
Jonah has absolute pitch and the front teeth poking out between his lips - as if they were the ones that draw a mouth on her face. Jonah's hair color wood, and should not know the winter.

" After two months ... "I said. She broke the instant coffee in a small cup, when he spoke was to raise his voice to be heard above the rhythmic rumble of tiny spoon-Jonah heard the sound from your room and instantly recognized him.
"Yes. I thank God that I had in October. "Answered and continued beating. The kettle was added to the conversation also thanked God, apparently.

In October of this year, twelve years after that October, Jonah was installed in my home with his mother. Living together: here during the summer, and the United States, too.
Jonah and his mother came to this house at the same time when we installed the camera system security: a camera constantly scans the front door, through a channel can see what happens there, if we want. Jonah is often wanting.
Jonah has a rare disease, should not know the winter, and spends hours watching television-all, silent, watching the Channel that shows what happens in the front door. Jonah has

perfect pitch and, some say, is autistic. His mother is quick to clarify: "is not autistic, is unsafe." Has in his closet, muscular, shorts and sandals, and in the wall of his room, the poster of a beautiful woman: not naked, has a fur coat.

happened in January, and my turn to discover, all who were in the house turned over to the sun terrace. Was it fate, I do not like the sun, "there really was something else I liked nice. I entered the room of Jonah, looking for a book he had borrowed.
The air conditioning was the most - the temperature was -2 C. Jonah
was lying on his bed, covered, and covered with an overcoat. It was cold, yes, and her eyelids were withered petals. In addition, the book he had given: a story of Gogol.
The TV was turned on: A dog walks-walking-dogs-era black and white. It was his conviction

:
should not know the winter. And his redemption


know Summer's winter.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Why Does Spunk Smell Like Fish

Writers

I return with this, a quasi-theoretical effort I wrote for the presentation of the book of stories 'so many nights as necessary' of Ricardo Romero.
Maybe I grab the win, and again I go back more often. Do not ask me rhythm, but I can ask my mood.


Romero once told me in an early morning conversation, 'the writers are all wankers, monkey. " Coming from him, and heard by me, or him coming to me, that statement can not be limited to the mood of custom.
That someone is 'wanker' has nothing to do with the amount of times you masturbate, but fidelity to an ethics of masturbation. The pajero true, the writer, knows the pleasure of masturbation has to do with the story. Even starting from a still image, a pornographic picture, which could allow the emergence of powerful image to own lust, it is necessary move it into a story that involves, always, a temporal succession. The vision of the female reproductive organ, without time, can not produce more than anatomical curiosity. This woman in the picture, which is shot that way looking at the camera, thus, has to be somebody. Who is it? She is the sister, the daughter of someone, perhaps even the mother. That is a step. Now, how I came to the picture. I know you from somewhere. Ah, is the daughter of my boss, right. That is, the image gains depth, part of a story. Pajero is a writer and then. Which is this. Romero tales are works on the ethics of the story, he knows something about this.
In a world where discourse is reduced to the power of images without the time, desire is a narrative ethics. Romero
A feature writer, a feature of their living writing that has no visible effect on their texts, is feeling a great pleasure to write. My foreign soil, to read, you can feel as much pleasure writing about characters so desolate, desperate, bitter. But they may think it is possible that pleasure is the feeling generated by the sudden disintegration of a pain. For example, we would understand that sexual arousal is a specific type of pain that leads to break apart what we call pleasure.
Masturbation and writing are two activities that are performed alone, and that necessarily indicate the existence of another. Approaching the other, which is unreachable in itself is a race to infinity. Romero know that writing never going to get to the other, but at least if we go that route in the direction of the story, we can fall every so often on the shoulder of a pleasure unrepresentable.
Thus, when and tells about the tragedy of his characters as his own, to give them the possibility of the story to those beings who do not know what part of the choreography of the human corresponds to them, but they can not stop running the steps the perfect turn, allows us a perspective that goes from the unbearable tension the redemptive laughter.
For this it uses deceptively structures adjacent to the fable. For the future of the action, these characters seem to embody a single feature, thus the effect deriving from stories, like when fables using animals to highlight this quality metonymic, making the character becomes a metaphor for something else. When Romero soulless characters are about to embody the metaphor for something else, suddenly dissolve, they turn all its nuances, become boundless and cease to represent anything other than themselves and their loneliness.
Romero style, at first glance and from a purely aesthetic perspective, it may seem old or outdated. Use all the words are necessary, sometimes more than one test for the same purpose, moving with slow pace, without leaving the reader to find. I mean who does 'resource economy' and has an 'overwhelming pace', or any of those qualities and budgetary gymnastics that are often deployed in critical reviews or Sunday supplements. Whether or
seem (at this point does not matter) does not mean an old book that is written in an old-fashioned way. Quite the contrary. Is that the prose feels an echo of another time, but as if it were the constant updating of a ritual, or trade, or trade ritual that has fallen into disuse, but may kept alive a secret.
Ah, yes, literature.
An old-fashioned text, however, not worth reading. Not because it has happened, because to be literature must have happened, but because fashion, by imposing its own logic, is extinguished when no longer present. And So many nights is old compared to a literature, very fashionable, which is strong at the time overlap. In these times, by a strange effect aplanamento of historicity, is written and read by seeing that in the future will be the text. Inevitably, this produces fashion texts, texts that are not made with soapy matter of present reality, but to calm the anxiety of consumers who want to think and from a future that is not known.
If the theory we think the future will tell what the current literature, and from there wrote recently, if we believe that this requires a consistent literature as if it were possible discrepancy, we were frozen to the reflected image of the future in the lake and drowned in this.
Because the future is the image of the future, and the pure image is the denial of death. In this book, each image is loaded with time: a black basketball player failed, taxi working boy and has the saddest eyes in the world, look at the time in a mirror and rehearse a play of Jordan, clowns are multiplied when nobody Look, when there are images for anyone. A former soldier who works as a watchman in a factory adheres to the image of a distant, flickering light in which he believes to discover, or invent, a series of messages.
The other literature, this pure, historical proposed right now, as the day a couple of planes hit the towers producing faster historic moment in history, this literature can only be defended from cynicism . So many nights ... is a book that gives me the impression not tolerate a cynical reading. And the cynicism already. Went out of fashion. Not deserve to be used as a perspective to read anything.
The denial of transcendence, as proposed by the cynical reading, brings, or need, the damping effect of irrelevance, ensuring the temita this finitude. So a cynical reading would stay asleep reading this book just made flesh in the midst of this temporary mess, which embodies the gap.
The scenario in which these stories develop their temporal masking is the night. And here is half the title misleading, or wrong (usually generate these errors, the language is a virus when it appeals to sentences produced and slogans), the real title should be as many nights as necessary. The night is one, for all the characters, the same, can not be two because it never ends. The night that never ends has to be, is one. And this is not is just a metaphor. Part of the talent of Romero, as I said, is the ability to dribbler metaphors that the action of the texts proposed. Because the night has that ability, as we read in these stories, reproduce, be the same each time, as resorption of the night every night. The day is the sequence and rhythm. Small variations and accumulation generated by the sense of identity, official accounts. The night, however, start from scratch each time. And if the night does not end when the pace finally eradicated, it creates a scenario where no story can stop or end.
endings of these stories have that curiosity, it seems that the characters are desperate to finish the story, to find an outcome that allows them to place your story in the past, a point that makes the wound closure, while the author dissolves all certainties in a continuum that threatens to infinity.
So, then, instead of making his characters are a stage act to strengthen their identity, instead of giving his characters what they want, give them the opposite to see what they do. Given the infinite. And so these little critters, all half suicide to the eternal night comes they are a pride with an apology, the finitude of man.
And so as a writer, without compassion, you can turn tragedy into carnival.

Sunday, February 5, 2006

Lump After Cardiac Cath

pajeros

The master of pacoquis
(who plays on the nail of big daddy crispy
pacoqui
him
)
the teacher-the teacher-
is common sense.
My teacher is killed.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Night Prowler Sa Colors

# 3 The Pacoquis # 2

I would not say forget. Pacoquis
that are part of my house, I mean,
are some of my home.
something here.
that when sleep-never know-
do when they sleep are scabs.
that when they sleep and I am-
wine and writing-
are the scabs, the game of scar-

and gives off a little pacoquis
and scratch my house and I am tickled-
.

Friday, January 20, 2006

How Much Is A Prepaid Sidekick Lx 09

Pacoquis

Ajoblanco is a man who comes to my house to fix.
He says he's at the age of the kick.

not know if it's a tic he has, or is scratched.
not use fingers to scratch his face, because he has, and scratches his face with it.

Ajoblanco came to fix.
Turns out I found some in the cupboard pacoquis low-
think it was that, without further ado: pacoquis
obstruct the flow of sour from my house.
There were more than ten, at most fifteen.
But they were there, and if it is not still ajoblanco.
The pacoquis are.
I will not describe them. Pacoqui
Each is a little bigger than a thumb, and has aroma:
smells like microbrews.
The pacoquis not be.
have consistency, though: the consistency of the nails.
were in the low-cupboard-
we returned and were a problem for me, so I thought the solution. * Risa *
Problem Solving, "he said.

was after ten and fifteen: veintincuatro.
So were many and had to be numbered.
Pacoqui one pacoqui two, and so twenty-four.
Ajoblanco them away, but it seems that left eggs and now grow everywhere.
The pacoquis obstruct the flow buttered my house. I find pacoquis

Ajoblanco comes
delete.
in that order.

Until one day in the kitchen got their own.
I had a knife in his hand
because there are knives in my kitchen and I have a hand. Ajoblanco
crouched, pacoquis eliminated.
I gave back. Gave me.
I had a knife in his hand.
I mean. This never meant nothing to me, as did the flow
floured my house.
But this time: 39 pacoqui said:
you have a knife in his hand is a man who turns his back.
I had to kill, I got it. Now there pacoquis

everywhere.
A friend told me to grow in the interstices.
It filled my house with
pacoquis consistency a nail and the crispness of what not to eat leaves. Overnight
not bother because they sleep: sleep
to have / to all / a tale perfect.
So I fall asleep and sleep and sleep then
Perfect.
But upon awakening, wake up and corrected.
are corrected each other.

pacoqui 49 The other day I fixed a pacoqui arm 92.
I saw with my eyes: he corrected the arm but for his sake.
That arm around too much. ESE
arm.
was excessive. Only after I retracted
: ajoblanco
perhaps was the victim. Perhaps
had eaten their fingers that he needed.
The pacoquis. The
pacoquis not need, because they do not need. If a pacoqui
correct his arm, or knee, no longer needed.

That's right: the house is clean now, though.
Some mornings I wake up and think of the good.
In the conviviality.
In pacoquis that clean.
Clean, polished, rough liman.
(But my laziness there you can clean pacoqui)
But when I say it might be better: so. Pacoquis
But you can not.
can not be me-we do not market-economy countries.
Because at one point I needed. And
pacoquis can not handle.

Tuesday, January 3, 2006

Is Red Splotch Broken Capilleries

The language of the flies

-breeding flies will eat the tongue.