Why Is My Ovary Bulky

Rust

9 Thermidor, came to port. But the journey continues. It's time to collect useful things, the photo of Kim, for example, and move to new vessels.

Fermat has been the pattern of 9T during these months, has ruled with varying degrees of skill on the stormy waters, but it was time to pass the command of the expedition to their new identity Pirx. I do not know what time in store, possibly a long journey alone, never mind. There are people doing similar things, go around the world solo, for example. Why? Because the sea is there, just for that.

Pirx (Fermat) commands two new vessels:

No known issue, where download likes and dislikes, several inventions, and occurrences of all types, a ship that sails from the end of 2006:

Perfect Numbers

And a new boat that has been at sea a few days ago. Room for political reflection of a liberal attempts to understand this insane world:

Argumentum ad Absurdum

9T has been a good boat. I thank all those who have been here, especially those who by their example encouraged me to leave port and sail the sea: QRM.

Nothing else, if anyone wants to know more about me you know where to find me. Thanks.

" never lowered the flag, never a final frontier

Sir Ernest Shackleton

Peanut Butter Banana Instant Pancakes

port arrival

Safe Polish Remover For Pregnant

Charity

Podría contarse quizá como una historia del París negro de entreguerras, aunque sus ramificaciones nos llevarían a Barcelona, Moscú y Méjico. O también como un relato de espionaje clásico, con agentes infiltrados, operaciones encubiertas y demás ingredientes del género. Pero la realidad suele ser más prosaica, y terrible, sobre todo si de lo que hablamos es del terror y de sus epígonos.

Se llamaba Caridad del Río Hernández. Nació en Santiago de Cuba, en el seno de una acomodada familia española. Tras la pérdida de Cuba, los del Rio moved to Barcelona where they are installed by goods made in overseas family. Charity, receive a thorough education in expensive religious boarding schools as a child of good bourgeois family, England, and later in Barcelona, \u200b\u200ba period in which Charity had strong mystical outbursts, reaching professed as a novice for a short time. At nineteen she married the scion of a respectable family in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bPaul Merchant. Five children were born of the marriage between Paul and Charity: Jorge, Ramon, Pablo, Luis and Montserrat. Soon things start to go wrong, life as a respectable wife and mother Caridad bored and looking for distractions elsewhere. The truth is that the devout Mercader hidden life of dark passions, her husband took her sometimes known brothels for, say, illustrate it with regard to sexuality varied, or perhaps with other motives as shameful, but sex is not what really matters to Charity She wants something more in keeping with their religious passions of youth, and looking in bohemian circles that are not in married life. Like many of his class, came to communism pure aesthetic pleasure, or mysticism, rediscovered, which is to be the same. And here it in the new faith Charity found their raison d'etre. In 1925 he decided to break with everything, leaving Paul Merchant and moved to France with their five children, Toulouse and Bordeaux at the beginning, and in 1928, Paris, surpassing any suicide attempt and a failed attempt at reconciliation with Paul. Charity then is now a fervent communist militant, worship a new god: the working class ever belonged to, "and how could it be otherwise acquires the zeal of the convert.

His delivery does not go unnoticed GPU agents in Paris, which soon captured Soviet agent. Charity has a lot to offer, but everything has its children, who educated in the new faith, and give as a present to the new prophet of the Revolution: Stalin. In Paris, Charity receives direct orders of the Comintern and the GPU, working on issues related primarily to Cuba and Mexico. Not separated from their children, especially of Montserrat and its two most promising male offspring, Ramon and Luis, a true communist family. Charity in their new holiness feels fulfilled.

civil war begins in Spain, and Charity cross the border again, a new socialist motherland is possible. He became one of the most active members of PSUC, and one of the most esteemed pawns Men's NKVD (formerly GPU) in Catalonia. It failed the test of what would work to perfection Republics European folk. Charity is relentless, even approved the punishment of one of his sons, Paul, a punishment that led to the death to move to the forefront. What did Charity at the news? "Mourn in silence and say that the revolution demands sacrifices? Or not even that? No one saw signs of repentance, not of weakness. At that time Charity works closely with Erno Gero "Pedro", the man in Moscow in Catalonia, by Leonid Eitingon he knows, another influential figure in Soviet intelligence services abroad. They became lovers, at least we must assume, the fact is that since then is the real Eitingon Charity mentor and his son Ramon before the Soviet authorities "trusted people", as noted in several reports. The silent and obedient Ramon away from Spain in 37, unknown location, we now know that the USSR was preparing to be a good agent for espionage services. Ramon learns quickly, his mother taught him well, we think perhaps the attitude of rapture of Charity to the promising career of his son.

Eitingon After the war, and Charity living between Mexico and Paris begin to work on sensitive "special missions", basically betrayal, and in some cases, liquidation of Soviet diplomats suspected members of Trotskyist circles, or simply suspects without more, are at the height of Stalinist terror. The group: Eitigon, Caridad and her son Ramon, Moscow is known as the "Group Mother." Ramon hopes will soon be their turn. Charity is dazzled with Eitingon, or what it represents, the action, the dangers, the "vanguard of the struggle for communism" new aesthetics, aesthetics of terror, that dazzles to a bourgeois family well in Barcelona. Eitingon promised marriage, nevertheless has a wife and children in Moscow, Caridad ended up knowing it, and did not care, perhaps because what united Eitingon was not love, if not thanks to what he could achieve: to be the protagonist of history, becoming a martyr of the Revolution. After the failed assassination attempt against Trotsky, Beria and Sudoplatov, the highest authorities of the Soviet security, the task entrusted to Eitingon and Ramon enters the scene. The story of the assassination of Trotsky is known and would for another chapter, perhaps the count, but I would like to end with the story of Charity.

After the death of Trotsky, Charity stops in Moscow. As an agent has given all I could give of, now only a name in a classified file. An apartment in Moscow, a modest pension and a couple of medals, full stop, welcome to the socialist homeland. Was used to good double life outside agent, here everything is different, Caridad is consumed. Get a job alternative, Bulgarian diplomats spying in Moscow, some foreign travel, poor thing, as the agent is burned. Wants to go to Cuba, Mexico ... anywhere, but the authorities give long, dilate your requests, respond with evasive and good intentions, to leave anything, let alone to Mexico. In a conversation with a English exile Moscow, Charity said: "... lack of soul and conscience. Annihilate your will force you to make you kill and then die ... Now I need ... I've done a murderer Ramón, my poor Luis a hostage and my other kids a pure ruins. And what is my reward? Four crap! ". Yes, speaking well is Charity, the inflexible, the martyr. What did you expect? Now get bored in a Moscow apartment, you might assail ghosts, I think not, and Charity wavers. Finally get out of Moscow in 1945, to Cuba, leaving his son Louis as a hostage, not to talk and do not ever go to Mexico. And what chance in Cuba Charity rediscovered his faith, it becomes a fervent communist who try to secure the release of a hero of the Soviet Union, his son Ramon. How easy is now, is Charity? Here in the Caribbean, how easy it is to return to rebuild paradise forever, far from the truth, havens that once they built a boring Catalan bourgeoise. Following the release of Ramon Mercader in 1960 is billed directly to the USSR, was a relic of the Stalinist period that nobody wanted. Charity, who had returned to Paris, he returned to Moscow to meet up with Ramon and Luis. An old skinny and serious, returned to see their children after so long, it embraced them, rebuked them for their unkempt, was once again the usual, perhaps, perhaps a shadow of reproach or regret crossed his mind, but it was late, too late.

Caridad Mercader del Rio, or terror as aesthetic option. Is not unique.

Valencia, Monday April 2. Beautiful weather, sun. No more rain. Splendid spring days are announced in Valencia, I hope, deserted. I do not understand why long.

PS A friendly "minister? Foreign arrives in Cuba to visit the coma-andante. Guided tour of course, no time for more, or will not.

Is It Ok To Wax Upper Lip After Shower

Qualification

On September 19, 2006 I started writing this blog, as it has been awhile and I have no intention of closing the paraeta, I decided to develop an entry mode. I do not know at this point in the film which will review the few readers of my person-9T scares me, but since I do not like costume parties I will dwell at ease without having to fill out the information about the profile - why ? -.

1. male, thirty-seven years straight. Natural Valencia, where I live. Single, and today with no obligation, a matter that I do not care either less or more.

2. studied mathematics though I work in finance (we leave the details), something I am particularly proud and brings me great income, but at least leave me enough free time to devote to what I like: reading, watching movies and listening to music (the fair sex, when I have occasion).

3. political affiliation. Liberal. As a term "and controversial" I'm going to be more precise: liberal in the sense given by authors such as K. Popper and F. Hayek (and moderately Ayn Rand). I am among those who have done the hard way ", I must say, from a more or less furious left, a rationalist liberalism. The result of that is true that I still Jacobinism. I'm a Republican, not a believer and I have voted twice in my life: the first nineteen years with the United Left, the last general elections in the PP. To this day I do not feel proud or one or the other, obviously for different reasons. Naturally, I'm not nationalist.

4. cinematic tastes. Anything that has meaning and a minimally developed plot. Although I can summarize my passions with four names: John Ford, John Huston, Stanley Kubrick and Vertigo (film latter that has disturbed me permanently since I saw many years ago). I do not like Woody Allen and Almodovar, I have a phobia incomprehensible to Julie Andrews, and I've never been able to see the whole "What a Wonderful Life" (I've tried four times, I was in the last twenty minutes to go, I have not managed to go from there but it's a personal challenge). Favorite actresses: Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Berman, Kim Novak, and (yes, Marce yes), Monica Belluchi (although I do not remember a single movie of the latter). Favorite actors: De Niro, Cary Grant and John Wayne (also, Marce, too).

5. musical tastes. At my age one and only likes the big book: Neil Young, some Joplin, some Hendrix, the Rolling (Beatles go home!), Springsteen ... jazz (yes jazz, what happens) John Coltrane, Miles Davis ... Schubert and Mozart. As rock and pop of the eighties and early nineties, I keep it to myself, are groups and issues related to personal memories, good and bad, and I will not show them to public ridicule, it ended with Nirvana and Pearl Jam, a From there I continued the music, I'll take the memories.

6. literary tastes. Anyway, here it is better not say anything, I can read to the mailbox advertising brochures. With the books I have the same problem as Imelda Marcos with shoes. This does not mean anything, just that I enjoy reading, period. Yes, I have some Outstanding accounts: I do not like Proust and a natural feel to any author prevention is alive, which did not mean anything, are personal hobbies. Have any names? Tolstoy, for example (yes, QRM, yes), not more so. "The twentieth century? Navokov, Borges ... and I'll shut up now. Always argue and defend literary genres and subgenres, any color and condition. I also read essays and stories, all you can unravel this nonsense twentieth century, which will to posterity as the century of totalitarianism and genocide.

think

7. enough, if I have disappointed anyone, sorry. I really do not know the image you are my posts on this or other blogs, and is not particularly worry me, but it was time to clarify things. As 9T, because I do not know what to say, I have ever discussed why they keep. Personally I think it's a crappy blog, sorry for the outburst, but it is hard to read after a couple of days, anyway I will not delete any entries, even though I've been tempted, it is a way of purging my pride, you deserve it Fermat.

I and, if someone asks what I'm doing writing this on a Saturday at night, well ... I think it's obvious: I screwed up the plan. So we end up and read something or see a movie, or maybe I'll go straight to bed. The next entry, on Sunday or Monday, will focus on charity and Ramon Mercader, two unique characters, if someone is interested, can read, and if not, there are other things better, obviously. As this is not a common entrance no party will end with the meteorological and the postscript.

Well, that, that's it for today.

Human Resourcepsychology

"My name is John Ford, and I make westrens"

The best finish in the history of cinema, enjoy it.

Prom Dress Donation Indianapolis

Ethan Jules and Philip

Jules is married, has a very peaceful family life, smokes a pipe, like good food and drink moderately, and maybe a few pounds leftover. Jules is patient, tough, likes to sniff, observe, perhaps because he works in the criminal police for a lot of time. A case for him as a good stew prepared by his wife, waiting patiently for the moment, the right doneness, neither more nor less, is at the time when it is ready for resolution and their apparent passivity becomes relentless determination. Maybe for It exasperated his colleagues with his patience, some say, for a case that does nothing but pipe smoking and drinking beer (or calvados). But he notes, always alert, details, circumstances, but mostly observe people, try to put in place, think what they think, try to understand the motivations for their actions, in fact, quite often, the criminal has seen him as a confessor, even someone who could understand and perhaps you understand the reasons for his crime. But Jules hates evil, evil, deliberate, free, in that is inflexible, and therefore, in each case that is presented is intended to reach the final, reaching the ultimate motivations, to what makes possible, perhaps ending with the patience of all but his. They say they know to weigh in for good measure human weaknesses, I agree, he also has, although most of the time often end in quiet states of drunken stupor or gastronomic. A true hound, always ready to sniff the dam, even if it means spending hours sitting on the terrace of a cafe, drinking beer, or enjoy dishes made of the place, always work, of course.

Philip works alone and lives alone, just play chess. You only have one good suit and a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer, and a handful memories, more bad than good-kept haphazardly everywhere. Yet, Phil is a man of honor, whatever that means in the environments which often move: sordid seedy slums and luxurious mansions of Los Angeles, both places where the abject is transformed with tinsel good girl drunk or stained clothes. Yes, Phil has values, it is true that they are their own, also has a long list of outstanding bills, mostly to himself, perhaps because it does not care too much for money, although it is usually required to pay rent his office. Phil is tall and strongly built, smoke and sometimes drink too. Works in an office de Hollywod Boulevard, no tiene secretaria, no tiene contestador, tiene una mesa, un par de sillas, un teléfono, un fichero y una percha, y su nombre está garbado en una puerta de cristal esmerilado. A veces se pasa el día entero sentado en su mesa reproduciendo partidas de ajedrez, a veces se pasa el día vagando por las calles. Por las noches llega a su casa, igual de escueta que su oficina, a veces bebe una copa, a veces lee algo de Proust o Stendal, pero la mayoría de las veces se acuesta cansado en una cama arrugada que no ha tenido tiempo de hacer. A Phil le gustan las mujeres, pero sale con muy pocas, a demás en no pocas veces se ha enamorado de la mujer equivocada, algunas de ellas están en chirona y tuvo que ser él who deal with the matter, but Phil is an honest guy, do not mix love with work, so they may be alone. Phil also has friends, a few, some of them have lied, some of them betrayed him, Phil is not very spiteful, but he can remember. Phil always comes to the end of the cases that deal, pursues the truth, because, because you know what to do, despite often being alone in the search, that nobody cares except him, and that at times has been some unpleasant surprises may therefore not have too many clients, but always end up looking.

And I, who do I stay? "Jules Maigret and Philip Marlowe? Difficult choice, at least for me. But since I have to get wet, I will decide and how the old Parisian commissioner will not be angry too, I'll Marlowe is the one most like me, do not know whether fortunately or unfortunately. In others, would kill even be able to write some of the dialogue-carved in granite, with whom Raymond Chandler sculpts his stories:

- Have you drunk?

-only Chanel No. 5, kisses, glitter off beautiful legs and mocking invitation dark blue eyes. Things like the innocent.

Chandler, The Little Sister.

Valencia, Monday 26 March. It seems that bad weather again. These are the throes of winter, dying. Pirx seems to have gone completely mad, has gone off to Las Vegas going to end badly. Above I have stolen money and a couple of books.

PD

Mr. Black spoke (or bark) to an audience of shareholders complacent. Maybe things are not quite right, or effects of old age? Assignment: reread King Lear. Illustrative.

Hip Arthroscopy Recovery Blog

A cold, gray Paris, a Paris in black and white, late fifties. Jeanne walks away, oblivious to everything around him. Not directed to any site, just walk. Everything has gone wrong, does not understand what happened, saw his car, someone was at his side, a woman. Maybe something happened to you, perhaps you have left, you may be dead. No one knows, understands nothing, saw his car. Did not attend the appointment. They had it all planned, he would kill her husband, according to the instructions, would be in the cafe, she would be waiting, but he did not attend. And she saw his car, and a woman sitting next to him. Jeanne walks, trying to understand, not knowing what to do, not knowing where to go, all is lost, he did not attend the appointment. It is cold, everything is gray. She walks, rides ...

is night, at dawn. In the recording studio environment is relaxed, the building is nearly empty. Is Louis, is Jeanne, are some-few-musicians, and is Miles. Louis is passing the film tape on the fly someone improvise something, some notes. Jeanne gets a few drinks, wearing a white shirt, there is little light. Miles still has not touched nothing, look at the tape, go to Jeanne, seen walking, clad in a black coat. Go away and sad woman walking the streets of Paris in black and white images that follow. Louis told the story, a history of crimes, fatal accidents, the hazards stupid ... something. But see Jeanne Miles walk, sees his face, his step erratic, his broken heart. Miles takes the trumpet to his lips. Seven notes. After nine others. A sentence. Nobody says anything, nobody moves. Miles has it. Miles closes his eyes, his cheeks fill with air, looks down and begins to reel and spin the phrase that has split the night in two. Jeanne walks, and the notes of the trumpet of Miles attached. No longer exists, but Jeanne and Miles.

was the first film Luois Malle. "Ascenseur pour l'scaffold" Elevator to the gallows. A film noir starring Jeanne Moreau. Miles Davis was touring Europe and Louis Malle he proposed to make the band sound, Miles agreed, was the first one did. It was recorded almost in one sitting, in one night, with improvisations of Miles on the images of the film. Beauty alone is a painful, almost unbearable. I saw the film long after knowing the music, and motivated only by the soundtrack. I have no regrets. I do not get forget those empty eyes of Jeanne while wandering around Paris. Neither the ultimate expression of his face to say goodbye to the passion that consumes you and keeps you alive, in the developing of a photo.

Valencia, Thursday 22 March. Winter raider strikes us mercilessly when it should. Her days are numbered. All PD

comedy. The trip, the trial, the prosecutor. All actors in a replacement and causing boredom.

Florida National Team Singlet 2010

Jeanne and Miles Kane's mistake (and Herrmann 4)

"And there was Kane, proudly, at the top, touching the sky which he himself forged. I also met Kane, no matter who I am, I can not answer your question, no one would have to be Kane himself for it. I was there that day in the theater. I should have seen, Kane, we all wanted to see, no matter what he said, applauded anything. I remember like it was yesterday, him on stage, confident, knowing winner, dragging everyone into a frenzy of irrational optimism that if there was not a reflection of his own desire, because that was Kane, ambition, anxiety, do not ask me why, maybe that answers your question, perhaps looking for that ... how do you say? ... Ah, yes, Rosebud.

"I remember there was a huge portrait of Kane with his name behind him on stage, none of these seemed excessive, in contrast, was the picture of the arrogance of Kane, and that was precisely what we wanted. Kane wanted to, we needed to Kane. There were all: those who saw in him everything that we could never reach, who saw in it the measure of our frustrations ... and there he was, doing everything possible rescuing all of our dull existences, making players feel, what? Now I know that it was his desire, a desire never satisfied, actors were required for the tragedy of his life, a tragedy that he insisted on writing, directing, starring ... so was Kane, and thus succumbed. Nobody could believe what was found the next day, and yet ended up being an ending as predictable as Kane himself. Could have prevented, perhaps, but this should have been someone else. So I decided to go ahead, knowing that it would crash like a child clinging to a toy that you know is not yours, yes, that is, as a child. You know, I think Kane was all his life that a child, someone who has not yet learned to resign. Business, politics, people also, we all had toys in the hands of Kane, ended toys that do not meet, which broke when he did not like. Do not think any came to fill at all, at least none with whom he played more. "Rosebud? I do not know, what can be, I regret not helping. By the way, how do you know Kane said that when they die? ... Hey! I have not answered, where do you go? "

Power has its toll, and the error of Kane was perhaps not want to pay them all. Unable to wield power - real power-and at the same time be the object of focus. Can not be the lead actor and move the wires yourself. If you are in the front row, they tell you you have to do, and if you say what needs to be done, should not be seen, otherwise one is just carrying clubs that they may correspond to another. Of course, Kane was a kid, someone who got rid of his first toy, which looked at everything that undertook the fulfillment of a childhood that, despite everything, always eventually fade, and that at best is enclosed in a crystal ball, something that we can grasp in a last moment. Other, more prosaic, and no less manipulative, know the background to fill a need to know if what you want is power.

Envisioning again the scene of the rally, I was struck both times it appears Joseph Cotten. In the first, his face serious, perhaps glimpse the danger and the extent of the ambition of someone like Kane. In the second, the expression of concern has been cleared and appears possessed by the unthinking enthusiasm invades the present, a moment of clarity that is lost. The important thing is not having it, if not retain it.

Valencia, Tuesday 20 March. As I emerge from a well after several days of giddiness, and with a hangover more or less real, more or less fictional. The wind has erased everything, leaving the city, and myself as before, or almost. PD

What is left? Ghosts of wars past and present. And without them what would they be? Nothing, and they know it.

Can You Be A Male Esthetician

It Was a pleasure to burn (Herrmann 3)

"Why Clarise and not Linda? At the end of the day are so similar, physically, of course. Clarisse maybe because I see every day the monorail to go home, do the same route, perhaps because he looks at me without saying anything, me, a fireman, maybe because its eyes reveal something else that I see in the placid faces of the people with whom I share the car. Linda reminds me so much, and yet so different ... my wife Linda, of course I'm not tempted to leave, how could someone make me antisocial and despicable, at others, I want to Linda, and she loves me to me, so we're married. We see every day on television-mural together, we take pills when we got bored, and we have friends visiting, and I think I will move up ... we are happy, yes. But I can not stop looking at Clarise every day, yes it is called, now has me said. I was accosted on the way home, I asked things, strange things can that dangerous, I think. Yet I have been curious, I said why burn books, as if it were not obvious. Clarise live in my own community, in an old house that have not yet torn down and replaced by a new and prevention covers. Linda sleep, I took pills to red, or green, I know, it can take too. Like when you shine your eyes and kiss me, although lately he spends too much time watching television-mural, but you must take a pill, which I do not know. Authorities say they are harmless, we should not stop taking them if we get bored, I guess right. If I ascend may buy a new TV-mural bigger like she ... "

I've said many times, reading is not live, but perhaps what is closest to life . It is tempting to opt for the "conscientious objection", I'm indecisive: a cabin in the Finnish Lapland, or some lost island in Micronesia. About what it would take me over, better not to opt for the famous "three books you would take to a desert island" I prefer an Internet connection and order it straight until the credit card all you can give whether (or to say, I gladly share with a Lappish hut or some Micronesian, even if you do not speak English or English, moreover, would almost be more fun that way, so I'm not antisocial). A brave new world without books, terrible, but possible.

All utopias end badly, just being dystopias, nightmares that lay behind the social peace and happiness impostada, freedom curtailed. Peace and freedom, happiness and spontaneity, day care for people who do not need to worry about anything, what all this sounds familiar. Me on your mind a work long overdue: a review detailed in all utopias and dystopias that have been proposed in philosophy, literature and cinema, from Plato to the present day: Plato, More, Campanella, Bacon, utopian socialists, Marx, Mao, Pol Pot, and also Huxley, Orwell, Ayn Rand, Junger ... Metropolis, Fahrenheit 451, Logan's Run , finally I do not know. It's funny, a fly pen, the authors who have denounced the Anglo-Saxons are often utopian dreams, there must be. I do not know, maybe it does, I guess to save a hard drive, if I get the point that it can even instruct Fermat, or pirx, although the latter can go either way.

Truffaut's Fahrenheit 451 is perhaps not a great film, nor is an extraordinary novel by Bradbury, but puts the nail on the head: how little it costs to be happy if you close your eyes and makes it you say, do not get into trouble, do not read and avoids watching television or taking psychotropic drugs to forget. But I like it for several things, all marginal, aesthetics, atmosphere, music, and especially, ESPECIALLY, Julie Chistie, even playing the role of Linda loggerhead dazzles me. By the way, what book to memory so they will not forget? Perhaps the Red Book of Mao, is brief, easy, stupid and I do not disturbs me to recite, and you know, for what not to stumble twice ...

Note: I started a small series of films, all films have a common link indicated in the title (Hermann). Come for the movie buff's easy!

Valencia, Saturday March 17. How to explain ... something halfway between the Rio carnival and Beirut during the civil war, a quagmire from which escape is impossible, and I live almost at ground zero ... one is not going to have excesses age. PD

Today's Not War in Madrid. The revolution summarized in a banner and a pan. And they were so pleased with their ghosts, their slogans, their miseries and their dead selective and selected. Revolution weekend, what else can ask.

Best Kundli Matching Online

Cab (Herrmann 2)

"Yes, of course I remember. Travis, it was called, the type of night shift. Barely spoke to anyone, so do not ask me how he was involved in everything. He chose to do the night shift, I think for insomnia. Listen friend, I did for a while, and do not know what you may see, particularly if you dare to travel on certain streets, Travis did not know why he liked to travel on dangerous sites, liked looking at things in a journal aimed not know, I said he barely knew him, to penalties knew him. Travis was one more, no one knew that walked put the trouble ... you know what the weapons, the girl that the newspapers say is a minor, probably knew her during the night shift. "

Travis

Nobody knew who he was. A fool, a sociopath, a wreck unable to function in society, is a misfit? I hole in the apartment he used as a miserable room, dirty and barely furnished. His neighbors knew him not, but that's normal, is a dilapidated apartment building where no one knows, is the last thing they want, a place full of sordid holes where disappear, others, perhaps yourself. Yes, he was in Vietnam, so what? Does that explain everything? No, of course not. He spent hours locked in his apartment, occasionally going to the movies X in the corner, watching life go by, oblivious to it, barely touching him, as if there were.

The taxi was different. Circulating aimlessly in problem neighborhoods, streets full of prostitutes, pimps and tricks, seeing the filth and scum of society, feeding their particular paranoia against the world, pointing to that society of which he was unable to take part. Every night fell willingly into hell, watched from inside his taxi a few blocks of doom, and seeking to justify an exclusion that was incapable of understanding, taking refuge in the stench, excusing and a shattered dream, a stupid dream, dream a vulgar and mediocrity.

They wanted to erect the avenger, avenger "who, what? He met this girl at the election office, worked for the senator. He refused. He wanted to redeem himself through the madness, stop whatever he stubbornly refused, revenge of all, of itself, its misery of life, from his own stupidity. Wanted to be a hero, get attention, make him pay for all, what? When one strives to be a hero, even a hero of his own misery, just getting it. That had to be a prostitute, Iris. Unable to undertake the great revenge himself with the closest, with Iris's pimp. Now is a hero, maybe it's what I was looking for, be admitted again, look for a small corner of mediocrity, a fleeting and ephemeral reputation it no longer remembers. Sometimes I wonder what Travis calls our attention, maybe some time we have all been Travis.

Are you talking to me?

Valencia Tuesday 13 March. Timid sudden winter day was to account

PD The chemical barked. Bark, then ride.

Free Letter Of Hours Completed

Judy (Herrmann 1)

What would have happened if Judy does not had stayed? If after completing a brief case had been long without a trace? Anyone in his place would have. Accomplice to a murder about to be discovered, was the most sensible option.

Fill the bag, Judy, go fast, runs away, take the first bus or train to anywhere, do not look back. I wonder why you did it? For money? No, of course not. You may initially attract the money, but then could not get out, is not it? Are you threatened? I guess once in the possibility of revealing your complicity in the crime should be sufficient but actually it was him, right? It allows you to continue playing the role ... for him. Because you knew that deep down he was not cheating, because you loved him ... you, or the ghost who tries to give life is it Judy? So consented to continue playing ... yes, I know, I should not talk about the game, does it?

know what I was looking for a dream, just like you. Seeks to end it when she fell into the void ... and now you see, is not so easy. I saw a while ago, I followed up your apartment and invited you out, and you do not know has seen you, Judy, has seen her, Madeleine, that ghost that haunts you both laughing at you, who runs his hand over his face and compressing your nights in atrocious nightmares. Go Judy What are you thinking of staying? What? Poor Judy, you never know love, not seeking if not what has been lost, what ever possessed. No, not you Judy, you know. Also know that she is ... she, Madeleine, a shadow, who always stands between them. Try to change you, you will be the stuff of which he forged the object of his desire, will disappear, and notebooks over, when I get to shape Madelein again destroy you because their presence was intolerable, because desires do not support its implementation because Madeleine is not just a desire not to be ever reached, so loved her, so he was halfway up the stairs when he died.

Break this letter you are writing, put your stuff in the suitcase and runs away with torturing let him remember, and take you to yours. Bring Madeleine also those days you passed together, take their desire attached to the skin, and the certainty that it will be and all that you one in the distance, a ghost, a shadow, nobody.

Márchate Judy, leave off.

Valencia, Sunday 11 March. Definitely the winter was over, short, distant now.

PD's laureate Portuguese writer points to the cordon sanitaire. That asepsis yours, Cuban medicine, so famous.

How To Put A Floor In A Aluminum

"extreme Right" lost his head Roberpierre

is comforting to know where you are registered to one. Known classification, labeling, box, conveniently packaged and ready for consumption. Fast food ideological, intellectual quick release. This works in politics more between those whose content, which is nothing but a slurry suitable for every fool, without chewing.

I thought was a liberal but it is not. I find that I belong to a strange lodge or mafia, who treacherously pulling the strings of the opposition and threatening to spread like tar spot (do not let me say tar) by the English democratic and progressive society. Turns out I'm an outcast, an enemy of democratic values, a dangerous fanatic, a stubborn and little is left to eat you accuse me of children. I say that I belong to something whose mere utterance occurs terror, "the extreme right", no less. Naive I wonder what is it?

Who came up with the fantastic idea? "It came in a marketing brainstorm election? Was it the product of a comprehensive market analysis of voters? Is it developed thanks to the most refined techniques of construction trends? I'm afraid not. No, we are not seeing anything new, quite the contrary. We are faced with something old and stale, something we've known for a long time, something stale and outdated, but it can work in some wilderness of ignorance and sectarianism. It has different names, but for a time was called agitprop.

extreme right and extreme right-wing not because we all know what the extreme right. Invent a neologism is to invent a new category, and sometimes not worry if you want for your content or reality, just roll the rhetoric, that something is. Any minimally informed, know that talking about extreme right in Spain is talking about something very minor witness or in any case: arms raised, blue shirts, nostalgia Franco ... certainly are very little, not neo-Nazi and xenophobic groups, cornered in the marginality and football stadiums. The far right in Spain, has a negligible impact on public life, despite the evil that some one left delirious and paranoid you feel surrounded by Fascists wherever you look up. Another case in Europe where in some countries has been consolidated as a meaningful political choice. It is ridiculous therefore accuse a vast segment of the English society of "extreme right." But all is not lost for the supporters of progressive ideology, simply reverse the terms, since there are no extreme right, we took the extreme right sleeve. And once coined the term, agitprop basic rules dictate that it must be repeated until nausea, until the end of getting through.

extreme right: it's like the extreme right but less droll. Equally dangerous, since it refers to the same terms, but perfectly recognizable in a wide sector of the electorate, they say. It is a new phenomenon, so it can not cease to exist, regardless of whether or not some content. And it's a disaster in which box to put anything that might call into question the liberal mush. Liberals, Conservatives, Democrats, Socialists sorry ... whatever. In short: the enemy.

So

What then is the extreme right? The extreme right is nothing. It is a bugbear, the result of a reduction simplistic and childish. It is an imaginary monster, a repository of all the evils which reinforce sectarian cohesion, and frighten the lukewarm way. It is a powerful idea whose power lies precisely in its vagueness, pure smoke, with absurd rhetoric to calm consciences and vacuous chewing words filled arguments.

extreme Right, nothing. And so the same thing.

Valencia March 7. Apocalyptic air, leaving swift passing clouds a fleeting memory of ephemeral drops.

PD Stupid

up in evil. Point and thus acknowledge their guilt. And do not realize.

Vid Free Brent Everent

Yesterday I changed the look of this blog, once again, I doubt that my few readers will care the least, by the way, how many? In light of the comments do not think they are more than six or seven, and most of them from time to time, and this is the way, why do I write?

might say, "Well, I write for me to chase my ghosts to kill the boredom ... "Yes I could tell, but I do not need a blog, or publish it anywhere, just spit my likes and dislikes on the laptop and save, or delete, as I will, however, grabbed me this blog so disconcerting-to me, anyway. In this blog, and another, some scoundrel, I write under a false name, fictitious identity that conceals another assumed identity. It has been two months in which Fermat Fermat's the good, no signs of life, more than enough time to close the paraeta, absenteeism, two months in which my particular Moriarty has lavished a great time at the other blog, a wall away, Sherlock yet still alive.

But I have not answered the question I just did, if only rhetorically, why keep a blog? A blog, which incidentally, is not about nothing in particular, and therefore has an interest in indicating precisely the number of comments (it would be sad to incorporate a visitor counter, so do not). 9 Thermidor emerged by chance, Lucretius Blog orphans in LD, some of us seek life: Status Civitatis, in the first place, created by QRM, and 9T, which gave way almost clandestine way I was a blog strictly political at first, and after my joining Status, became a personal blog. I have to say a few words about status, I regret the task that I did to QRM, during these two months of unjustified absence he has had to deal only with Status, I hope that I apologize. Earlier this year, Fermat disappeared. Kidnapped, hidden in a hole and gagged. Had to purge their sins, and come down to Malebolge circles beyond, you deserve Fermat, for pedantic and stuffy. But someone had to struggle with my spasms grafomaníacos-not be called otherwise I write, "even if sometimes delusional way. I hear you typing, just a wall separates us, was a kind of golem created to withstand the winter nights, has now taken on a life of its own, and has become unmanageable, but I think more publicity, but it has garnered critical acclaim and lean groups that Fermat could not be otherwise.

And I still do not respond, why keep a blog? (Or two). A blog absurd, barely readers, and with a very limited interest, thank you sincerely, barely know them, those who take the trouble to read something (QRM, Marce, nux, the locksmith, jesus sanz rioja, and some clueless I think that I have no record of anyone else), soil be a disaster as far as return visits are concerned, I'm sorry. What then? Need to give personal testimony of the dismal political situation? No, it would suffice for this status, besides, 9T inputs have ended up being the most varied. "Vanity, perhaps? You can, but it would be riddled with mediocrity vanity, supposedly serious antics (main charge in the case that led to the compulsory silence Fermat). Is the spleen, as Baudelaire? I do not know. "Look in a mirror, whose image is hardly too much to bear? Maybe that. But above all it is a way to redo the same work, spinning the same things, not to leave a maze that I myself have built: a mixture of prison building to Piranesi and Escher. Ghosts I know who expose to public ridicule. It's funny, though it may seem, the anonymity it provides a nick again makes you suspiciously sincere, there is perhaps too much of myself after Fermat, and yes, even after the type of the other side of the wall, I hear you typing I do not know who can write, so different, so close, shadows, mock or not, it might be otherwise, I is perhaps a shadow, a specter that a Fermat vampirizes with lowercase f.

Blue sky, I like that color, Fermat will tricking between 9 and Status Civitatis Thermidor, and the borderline that conspires against me too, I suppose, but every one in his hand, as much we hear suspicious after a virtual partition. Nightfall, QUAD know not publish this, when you find an Internet connection, or maybe tomorrow at home.

Valencia, March 5. It seems that the weather will change, spring days fugitives who escaped early. Too bad.

PS Would not that it was not so difficult? Galician quiet, it was decided at last. It notes that it was fought child, when one is stuck, or defend, or you are hitting.

Ikusa Otome Suviavol 4

Doublethink

Doublethink. Avoid reality, to build an alternative, under the guidelines, according to an ideology whose orthodoxy must be challenged, to think the opposite of what logic dictates, re-think otherwise, ignoring the principle of non- contradiction and disregard the logic, using language as a gum. All this without losing your mind, or losing it, who cares. Believing what they say, whatever it is, because that is what he plays, because that is what must be said, words that should not leave the throat of the head, and yet believe in them as if they were the most intimate of our being. Throwaway slogans, phrases to be learned, from memory, not to fail, and should spit without thinking, throwing them in the face of the heretic, because they are heretics, of course, and we must act quickly to avoid time to think, so that once these have not anything else to do to support, for the record of faith affiliation, love the cause. Words must be repeated regardless of the meaning, standardize the speech, firm ranks, the enemy is powerful, the number on reason, reality does not matter as long as the hold heretics, lepers praise the enemy.

seems difficult, however, if a repair, not so much. We have the language, has in emotional attachment, it has the stealth of a complicity that erases the guilt shared with the pain is avoidable ignorance, hatred has, it has a nasty stench that provides security of sectarian behavior. But above all it has to fear, to know himself a coward, with the inability to look in the mirror, with the misery that can not be erased unless the erection of an enemy.

Doublethink, be a tool, someone who will not ask for accounts ... while no one would dispute its mutable reality. Those who advocate the release of a murderer, justified by state terrorism. Those who call for peace, forget freedom, and dignity, and they know it.

I have repeated hundreds of times, and I grabbed it as if it and the last out to save me from perishing in the wreck, as if it were the last ditch I'm willing to defend cost It Takes: clarity, objectivity is a moral issue, is the only thing that saves us to drag through the mud, calling things by their name appeals to the most intimate. Telling the truth and act accordingly.

and calmly say: treason. It has no other name.

fight against it should know. And you should also know that infectious chorus to praise, and so desperate, President Rodriguez Zapatero.

Back to work. On Monday Status (if they remember me)

Valencia, March 2. Spring, sun, beautiful weather. Like climate change, I do not know what is wrong.

What's PD? Dignity is wounded, maimed liberty is and remains a debt. Debts are paid. Sooner or later.

Dale Gribble Personality Paranoia

Spleen Painful Truth

Baudelaire, Spleen XXXV window.

"He who from the outside looking through an open window never sees so much as looking at a closed window. No object deeper, more mysterious, more fertile, darker, more dazzling, than a window lighted by a candle. What you can see the sun, is always less interesting than what happens behind the glass. In that light black hole or living life, dream life life suffers.
Beyond the waves of the rooftops, I see a woman, mature and wrinkled and poor, always leaning on something, without ever leaving. With her face, her dress, her gesture, with almost nothing, have reconstructed the history of this woman, or rather, his legend, and sometimes I tell it to myself crying.
If it was an old man, I have rebuilt theirs with the same ease.
And I lie, proud to have lived and suffered in people other than me . Perhaps
tell me: 'Are you sure that this legend is true? "What does it matter what the reality may be placed out of me if I helped to live, to feel myself and what I am? "

Et je me couche, et fier d'avoir vécu dans d'autres souffert that moi-même.

If I knew the French would have the text in its original version, but why brag, I can manage with English, a little more. I hope the translation is accurate.

I also tell stories, stories sublime or trivial, stories that make me laugh or mourn, and lie down happy to have lived in people other than me. Stocks vicarious, foolish games, who can not, however foul appease the spleen, this sticky melancholy, stuck to the skin as a film of dirt that does not dissolve as much as I wash. Slpeen hackneyed, stale, dull, that hardly serves to concoct something, I'm not Baudelaire. But enough.

And now? Who are Fermat? I give chase winter nights as the ghost of Banquo, see you at banquets bloody I give myself, and fled startled by your appearance, fled myself. Callas, you may see in the shade, laughing in the darkness of your alleged murderer, a pale reflection of a pale reflection, a shadow of a shadow, why do not you laugh? Sophocles spoke last time, what happened to Oedipus? Are you afraid as Jocasta? Or do you continue to vegetate in the shade, telling stories, not not even open the window of his garret? What about you, Fermi?

What about me?

I have returned to dust worn volumes of my library shelves, some bring good memories, Maigret, good old Maigret. I've re-read. The winter passed, the weather, too.

Valencia

February 28. Dull winter that will leave no remembrance. These solid heavens, unbearably beautiful, burst of light at the beginning of an early spring. Deep blue, bright, protective.

PD Strangers swift chemical forget what laboriously learned. Play dumb, hoping that the rest do the same. Or maybe ... do not get water to the neck.

Whatnot Look For When Someone Bumbs Head

CHORUS: Oedipus, why has left the race this woman, prey to cruel pain? I'm terrified, lest perhaps this silence then blow echoes of doom.

OEDIPUS: Let him do what he wants to jump! But I continue in my desire to know my ancestry however humble [...]

try for a moment forget the psychoanalytic interpretations of the Oedipus myth and talk about what Sophocles Oedipus by mouth shows. Because the myth of Oedipus tells us about the truth, his search, the pain it can cause and that is intolerable sin give up to find it.

The plague is upon Thebes and Oedipus, the king of the city, has a mission to find out the cause of the ills that are folded over their subjects. Questioned, get advice, research, and the truth is emerging slowly. We know that Oedipus while the details of the cause of that divine punishment. We assist first fear, then horror, how the figure of blame is going profiling, slowly but inexorably. Oedipus knows, maybe he senses much earlier, will recognize their own traits, fuzzy at first, sharp end, the only responsible for the plague that ravaged the city. Despite all this Oedipus wants to know the truth, whatever the cost.

Oedipus attitude contrasts with that of Jocasta, his wife, his mother. In the same way that Oedipus, she too is watching the horrifying truth unfolds before your eyes. Why not leave if it is so horrible? Why the eagerness to get to know a truth that can burn?

JOCASTA: By the gods! If you care about something, however slightly, your own life that do not probe. There is enough suffering already with me.

Yes, well there are already suffering with me, why increase the pain, let it as it is, not think about it and do not afflict us with doubt. Given the way events are taking far as to implore.

JOCASTA: Despite all my advice, please. Do not get into this.

OEDIPUS: I can not make the case, that no, in that no easily available information.

both know it. Will know what fruit research. Despite everything the Oedipus continues, and it does find a loophole, however minimal, finish saving it, no, Oedipus continues because the truth must be revealed, it is useless to flee from the truth. As Fate, Truth eventually reach their players as much as they endeavor to escape. Oedipus

just watching, just, the truth that they feared and that both have fought. Just seeing the sin that has always been known culprit. Jocasta, unable to face the truth, would rather die by his own hand before you reach. Oedipus has seen it all: the magnitude of his sin, the body of Jocasta. Need look no further, with a pin is wound in the eye. The truth, ugly, naked and stands triumphant over all, the plague of Thebes leaves, guilt expiated. Find his redemption Oedipus at Colonus, old and blind, the sole company of his daughter Antigone.

And here we are, suffering people of Thebes, overwhelmed by an infamous plague. Jocasta Fed will do nothing to ever know the truth, although it away with them, hoping to Oedipus that never comes. No matter, the Truth, and Destiny, always just to reach to their protagonists.

Valencia, January 3, 2007. Those brief moments at noon, pleasantly warm, are worth their weight in gold. Are the advantages of living in the Mediterranean, as Sophocles.

PD

Remember Rubalcaba this March 13? Vox missa Nescit reversed.