Eating Ramen With The Flu

NON SO DOVE

Edvard Munch. Forest (1903)

"I have not been any. One has died and another was killed. Just live it was necessary to kill"

"Varykino is it not a lost place the forest, where nothing ever happens? "

( Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak ).

- I -

Suppose that in a fairly rigorous perception of love or friendship (let the difference between them for another day), it is the friend we refusing to pass the necessary words the bad shot or witness our presence and esteem. Say, therefore, that if called to the house of a friend found her dead fire and tells us not expecting us, friendship is by definition shattered and fragmented into a thousand crystals (not that reflect colors but the cutting). Friendship was a bad dream and our claim ridiculous. I do not think we are very strict if we require the concept of friendship that test: in the darkness to clear a space around the fire to homes and company for the night.

Well, this consideration of the friendship shown to us clearly insufficient if we consider that the denial of a friend does not have to destroy the friendship. A sacred history I refer: Peter denied Jesus three times and punched his face in shame just for desserts of the ultimate betrayal. And yet, no longer the chosen, the representative of God on earth or stone that stands the geology of the community.

Love and friendship does not fit in our attempts to understand, either in image or word. The reality is a vibration or oscillation feature that makes all conceptualization can be questioned ("not exactly true) or denied (" No is that it is not that "). Uncertainty art and writing ....

This allows us to conclude that:

• poetics of silence or blank canvas is lodged in the origin our attempts art itself: the words and images are overwhelmed by the vibration of things (our inability or lack of creative ability is certainly as bad excuse, such as denial of a friendship by a misunderstanding).

• the use of writing as a therapeutic element is doomed to failure because the word can not handle the complexity of emotions and turns all that on " clown expression. "Put another way: the writer should forget cure and focus on the search for an artistic device, a fiction in which show the primacy of form unsatisfied.

"... Art is always at the service of beauty and beauty is happiness to master the form. The way the budget is organic existence. All that is alive should be, to exist, shape, and so the art, even tragic art is the story of happiness, a happiness so tragic and tears filled my head was tired and Dorida " (Doctro Zhivago, B. Pasternak)

-II -

In the death of Yuri Andreyevich Zhivago returns to the stage - becoming silent engine of his funeral - the beloved (or friend in the fatality) Larisa Feodorovna, Yuri separate for more than a decade and lived somewhere across the world. Lara's appearance certainly providential meaning loaded ... Or this is a clumsy deus ex machina ? Where does the literary and poetic license to force providential coincidences and meetings? Someone really important in our life in this casually our funeral to arrange flowers and kiss the forehead rigid (slack the way) is incredible for a fairly healthy intellect.

only divine providence or poetic fiction can Show us this fact without provoking laughter. Or rather, that Providence is not poetic or cancel the laughter of these incidents. It happens that stop the teasing into a state of significance that builds a theological or aesthetic idea:

"By an aesthetic idea I mean that representation of the imagination that gives much thought, without, obstantem, you may be right ; any particular thought, that is, no concept "(I. Kant. Critique of Judgement)

As friendship denied that, however, remains strong beyond their definition, art (or religion, as we are with Zhivago) is always the edge of laughter in these impossibilities poetry taking place at the edge of our belief and the facts become significant . be significant: the sobering in ... nothing concrete. A step further by forcing the story would make all the engine is broken - because it violates the " primacy of form."

"Pasternak Bankruptcy with that as unlikely and providential fact, the presence of Lara at the funeral of Yuri? I think not. What unites Lara and Yuri Zhivago is the friendship that get caught in its definition and, tying them both to a strange fatality, ritual requires the presence Zhivago Lara's right when he dies. Ritualism save chance. It is true that to reach this providential coincidence Zhivago should die without heroism, on the street and surrounded by the absurdity of the modern world (a streetcar that had horns). The required to pay this tax century of humiliation. But Larisa has its place in the funeral of the man who is left to die not stop believing - when everything is wrong because - precisely because of the primacy of form and harmony in the world.

"Never in the moments of happiness freer and forgotten, had left the top and exciting: the satisfaction with the harmony of the world, the feeling of being in relationship with him, to participate in beauty the whole show, of the universe.
lived their participation. And so the domination of man over nature worship and idolatry of man never drew them. The principles of false worship transformed social policy, they seemed a very miserable thing and no one understood them "( Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago)

causes we not laugh belief Zhivago and Lara, they have just fallen all the scum that left the armored train in history? Is not it ridiculous that the poet makes the woman appear at the end point? Is not it stupid that love and friendship are extended beyond their breaks, on the other side of the three denials of San Pedro, beyond all that writing may agree to refer to and mean? In the suspense of laughter ... our hope dwells poetically.



we would say - with Lara and Zhivago - winning the friendship and love History.

Rita Pavone - Dove non so (subject di Lara) (1967)

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understand our urban landscapes will always depend on our attention and care depends largely on speed that printed in our daily lives and our work. When we "speed" on the table are other words often appear simplification, homogenization, predictability, trivialization ... The importance of design in urban landscapes has to do with our culture of communication. If we consider that culture is a waiver of speedy solutions and rudimentary might think that our "culture of communication" has a lot to do with our ability to weave and bind worlds, a broad vision that allows us to transcend the solution "clever" to come solutions "beautiful, useful and understandable."

communicative capacity of the urban landscape is strongly related to the ability of the issuer, who designs, and the receiver, who looks, watches, crosses, live ...

The urban landscape is a organic complex. This means that consists of multiple relationships rarely comprehensible at first glance. A performance that aspires to be recognized and valued can not address the space as if it were a blank canvas. Requires a certain amount of responsibility and respect for the place to try and, essentially, to the people who make use of that space. The transformation and enjoy the city's public spaces can be programmed according to tactics more or less contrasting but ultimately will be people who endow with meaning, cultured, everything built, rebuilt, restored and / or rehabilitated in the city.

FUTURE The association has scheduled for next February 2, 2011, in the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters, a panel discussion in which approached from the perspective of geography and urban landscape architecture in the cultural river of Cordoba. A meeting which aims to provide precisely that information and communication by which we advocate.

Column HoyxHoy Córdoba (SER)

Tech Deck Live Cadastro

artificial light love is forced to work day ....

At six o'clock in winter (1912), John Sloan

"And yet, come on each other hastily, as if they have nothing in common, nothing to do between them, the only convention that unites them, unspoken, is that each hold the right to march down the street, so that the two streams, marching in opposite directions collide if not " (Engels, quoted by Benjamin, London and significant on site - perhaps trial riddled with errors - in The situation of the working class in England ).

Sloan says that's six in winter, and I must confess that at first I thought he was referring to six in the morning. Then I realized that at six o'clock in winter, it is night. I hump not fall into these simple things tontuna sometimes justify my saying that I am a farm boy but I was raised in a factory for spinning and artificial silk. I see the world going to work at six in the evening unmoved.

I think the train heads to the left. A group matted and gray world soul congested during rush hour while climbing into the wagons. Passers that we face, pushed from the left of the picture, smiling. The kind of pure and bowler hat, accompanied by the smiling lady, do not seem to find transportation and displayed perfectly placed in the traffic urban pm. She loves to feel the closeness of thousands of individuals and feel unique. It is, perhaps, a creature of the night, a night owl of music hall. It annoys me that the man in the bowler hat and his companion are more significant - historical and vitally significant, significant chromatically for that matter - that For example, the hundreds that go on the train to their homes in the suburbs, after a day of work and waiting for the tedium that precedes sleep. Places to shoot in spite of a revolt uncontrolled types illuminated by color for the variety show or the theater, the long night of sex and drugs - sex might mercenary and adulterated drugs, sex and drugs but the end of the day - worth downloading the rifle because if X is bored or bored or perish all the world. YX is neither more or less than me. An ego that tries to board the train to go home.

all an exaggeration, of course. Ethically I will not let my possible or likely - old or young - to become self-centered tedious heartbreaking shot of oil of Sloan. I do not think that the artist has projected bad milk or mockery that darken in the platform and heading home without the possibility of seeing the latest show and enjoy the newest cocktail . Sloan has meant just the color and stroke laughing so interesting the time of the underdog, those who come down the street with expensive proposals, as opposed to those waiting to board the train up his face blurred in the greyness of urban sunset. Has marked the importance of one over another without hatred or contempt aristocratic.

From the left comes the night, turning gently remainder of the day (with that inadvertently dark in the big city, shrouded in the distance the sky and the adventure of artificial light). Of that horizon smiley faces also come to replace workers on the streets. It marks the bidirectionality and breaking sky / ground. The color of the night, soaking the saliva of smoke and desire, cleared the working hours in factories and offices.

The sky occupies much of the box, however, does not define its atmosphere. Is the light of local streets and that sets the pace as the sky entertains, outside all, dying of various shades of blue stranger what was day.

The layout of the table, that almost diagonal that divides the stage between heaven and apathetic urban bustle, prompts me to suggest a change in the arrow of time bidirectionality impaired right-left (those who leave and those who come). It is perfectly imaginable, thanks to the diagonal, deriving the train back to the right and pedestrians walking backwards, to the point where you turn the cigar and hat kind of fantasizes about a night of gambling and light or , men and women returning to the street sidewalk day showing their faces. And that

strange blue sky sinks to the signature lines of John Sloan, back in the top left corner.

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When war broke out, I had
fourteen years and two months. At first
not affect me too much.
head was full of nothing but I still
more important.
discovered Les Fleurs du mal, and that meant
the poetry, certainly, but
there anything else I do not know how to call,
and that is what counts. Does rebellion? No.
It was then called.
lying in a hazelnut in the heart of a rose
withered leaves and very green, like skins
Track skinning, there
lying in the crotch of the world, I expected a happy

rebellion when the country erupted in revolution and counterrevolution
do not know if happy but revolutionized
me. Does life
moral ? Perhaps, but it seems ambiguous.
Perhaps the more accurate word is selfishness ,
and it is best to remember that there are fourteen
to move from first person:
and oppressing the plural, and the exercise of Stylite
singular, nausea
's perched on itself
seems a good program for the future. Then come the years
and, happily,
away too, and we're getting tired
hand caressing the face stubborn lamb
intimate, and then adopt the plural
do not know if modesty, that renounces
singular leaves us
but thanking and premiándolo.Basta "

(Gabriel Ferrater: In Memoriam, M ª Angels Cabré Translation)

(Full in Catalan)

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invitation!



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electrical variations

Ariel Tenorio images are images of a rock of law. Among the emerging vibrant colors dripping silhouettes of guitars and basses, drawn with a confident stroke. Pegs, pitches and curves instruments parade in front of the eye. They are fragments, pieces focused by the camera comes suddenly. The mark set a pace but is difficult to determine if the guitars move or we move us. The forms become elusive, blend into the background picture or background "?," The band or solo?

the monoprint technique, as its name implies, allows a single copy. It copies an image that is built and destroyed on a sheet of acetate. Can not get two identical copies. And for that matter. Ariel's works are about the same topic, but never repeating the same thing in each book introduces a variation. Diluents smudging, open the saturated color to create textures and lights. Some pieces have a classic weather slow with its romantic atmosphere, while others, with star fast cut and spray, we refer to an electric sound and fury. An intensive search for representing the music that distorts to attach.

Ariel facing the sheet to tell us, make us laugh or get excited. Image and rock. A brilliant guitar hanging on the shoulders, the right stamp on a shirt or a frame of video, who does not ever dreamed of being a rock star? For those who pants were tested Chupines or beat a little hair looking defiantly into the mirror, these works belong to the ritual of identity, which could only recreate a passion for music and a tireless artist.

Ms. Mariana D. Luterstein

February 2009

Chaqueta Rn 56323 Nike

OF HARE AND TOWEL EMBROIDERED

Leo

Doctor Zhivago:

"Antonina Alexandrovna surveyed the vendors, with a towel over his shoulder, as if to wash with snow.

At the end of the row was a woman with a black scarf embroidered in red. She saw the towel is embroidered eyes lit up. He looked around, made sure it was safe, and Antonina Alexandrovna went up quickly. He discovered his goods and whispered hastily and heat:

- See You saw something? Do not you like it? Well think no more, or I will remove it. I change the towel on this.

Antonina Aleksandrovna did not understand at first. Believed that the peasant was referring to the shawl and said

- What do you mean, woman?

But the village had been mentioned half hare, cut open and grilled in her hand. Indeed repeated:

- I say give me the towel on this. What are you looking at? Do not think that is a cat. My husband is a hunter. It's hare, a beautiful hare.

treatment was performed. They both thought they had done a big business and the other was lost in the change. Antonina Alexandrovna was ashamed to deceive so dishonestly and this poor village, satisfied with the business, he hurried quickly away from crime "(Boris Pasternak: Doctor Zhivago , VII, 9).

******

Meaningfulness . When you leave the Central Russian and begin moving eastward contingencies. If winter, snow, if spring snowmelt. Mosquitoes in summer and red cavalry crossing the path of white pack has knives in the mouth. Shooting in the evening to drive away the wolves and bands of abstract sequences cornejillas implemented in the taiga sky before sunset closing red. Inclement draw the landscape right now, I have so far from home - though it's cold here and there are birds flying imposed autistic, oblivious to history - as another world, The Red Wedge Lissitzky or wrapped in bloody Stalin GULAG.

The escape to nature, the gathering in the past that is known is gone and only sniffs at its opening. Like a dog sniffing in the literature, art and a terrible lack

*****

significant thing. That embroidered towel and "half hare, cut open and grilled " is defined as a measure of equivalence , torn things in their brightness and differences in the markets, inflation, hunger and the will to deception among the poor (which Aristotle said malice), the revolution and against all that is the usual discourse of the horses, something like always, something that Benjamin Angel Klee-hair bristles will only reach. To complement the sequence anthropological Pasternak with instinctive camaraderie the blush still on deception innocent and almost naive (trapping and armhole now because nobody sees embroidered towel is equivalent to half an accurate open channel hare and grilled) This is significant and morally beautiful. Without a happy ending and a pre-Christian horizon, not quite the taste of good Russian, paint my eyes with tears.

Antonina Alexandrovna walks around the old station, surrounded by black marketeers and malicious peasant, with his towel resting on the shoulder " as if to wash snow." That, frankly, is erotic and the force that leads us to believe in humanity when time stands still. Who would deny that bath of snow to retrieve the pleasure of a bygone era? The revolution would expect one hour locked in her armored train that I learned of the bourgeois vices.

My sadness makes sense in that injustice.

****

The sacralization of the hare in exchange for the towel is a significant event that takes place at an indefinite point, after the central Russia and when the road to the east is filled with contingencies. At the moment I see more facts significativos.Seguiré attentive.

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STATE HOSPITAL (IN THE ERA OF THE GREAT Anarchy). ENVITE EPILOGUE TO MORAL OR NOT, THE INSURANCE

Edward Kienholz: Blue Boy and Pinkie 1979

And what is the difference between being you or be me

to be the beginning or to get finally

to be unhappy or to be very happy

between saying no, no, no ... or between saying yes. yes, yes ...

and what is the difference between being from here, or between being there

between white and black is always gray

between God and the devil between heaven and hell,

between being very good, or very mean

and what is the difference hermao, between good and evil,

what is the difference in the end, if everything is so close.

( Albert Plá )

"and what is the difference .. ....

three songs sung in the same letter and want to tell three different beats (as if the beating intended to be as relevant)?

The Heartbeat ....

And what
is the difference .....

; between me and suffer you suffer? Life is going in the smallest detail.




and what is the difference .. ..


between hate a song that demands to be divine interposition really what you want and sings a love to hate?




and what is the difference ....

between
Fonollosa poem

Kennamore Street

I want you to suffer what I suffer:
learn to pray to do so.

I want you to feel so helpless
a whiskey glass without hands;
you feel chest
heart like that of another and I ache.

I want you to peek at every hour
as a prisoner clung to his window
and which are the stones of the street
the unique landscape of your eyes.

I wish your death where you are.
learn to pray to do

and the song that casts a shadow on the young lady who is said mambaroja and scores (not forget)

mambaroja sad side. this video is like my reality ... or not. I hate you so much ... you? no, not hate. the song has nothing to do with my reality q (as clarified)

******

Would the man on the bottom bunk - see previous entry - that of above suffer as he suffers and feels that its existence shows the same nonsense? "Socializing the pain? The essence of life and why not, his spark?


How many traces of bitterness blackened silence lies in the love you?

Is not living in the bottom of the depression the only dignity as possible for your lover?

transmigration not in other species.

post No to life, either in heaven or hell.

me not to absorb any deity.

not a further, not even being a paradise reserved

to Islamists, with beauties

always guarantees that a book virgins.

Because those are the games for the naive

that my agnosticism never bet.

My stake is not being. A sure thing.

other existing Rejects after

consumed my share of this dish unpalatable.

Again, no. Once is too many.

(José María Fonollosa, 1922 - 1991)

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Yellow Discharge In Underwear

State Hospital (in the era of big Anarchy). TWO

Edward Kienholz: The State Hospital . Interior (1966)

"... about an old man who is a patient in a hospital
mental .
He in bed, bound with belts
and naked.
Injured
.

has been injured in the stomach
with a bar
soap


(wrapped in a towel .)


His head is a lighted fish tank with two live fish
blacks.

is very still and not noise is
in the room.


old Above is a duplicate
exact
including the bed,

(the which will be placed

as a bunk) .

The body also has the tank top
and fish, and so on.

contained in a neon bubble ,
representing the thoughts of the old.


Your mind can not think
nothing can not go beyond
present. Caught
there ;

by the
rest of

its
life. "

, (Or \u200b\u200bsomething like that said Edward Kienholz)

PHILOSOPHY (my) mind.

wanted to start announcing that

" I am the box Ward19 "

and, as I said in the previous chapter, my mood

is the awareness that the world is divided into two categories of relief: those who know what's inside the box and those who ignore it.

I hope, romantically camped in uncertainty, early onset star any member of any group. I am a any that waits for any appear and say: " Hey man, I know what's inside you "or, by contrast," Jópeta, boy, I have not the faintest idea what hide. "Who comes is irrelevant. The important thing is to shorten the wait, and to expand the conversation. Only God Talk .

"The soul of man is precisely this man in other men. This is what it is, this is what has breathed, in what has been fed and drunk all his life consciousness. In its soul, its immortality, of life on others. So what? He has lived in the other and the other will remain " ( Parternak Boris: Doctor Zhivago )

Well. Open the machine cube dissolves mood: nobody claims ignorance or lack of information . Everybody knows what's inside of me . Trivializes my belly like Mishima for public knowledge, like

a nobody,

a John Doe .. ..

E. Kienholz: John Doe (1959)

If there are traces of dissatisfaction collateral that, not me accountable. I was never the Man of the Year.

Us - I with you - see the box Ward 19 inhabited by a ghost and double language. Two men lying on his miserable bed, drugged up to a quarter of death and with bruises on the abdomen, buttocks and arms. The above (B) is said the bottom (A) some complaint inaudible mode. Says

subhuman A:

- "My mood X can be described as a subhuman B endowed with the property Y, with Y "humiliated because someone has treated me with great cruelty" .

If we are honest - me and you - the human language translation insightful diagnosis of the case - told by the lower (A) showing the above (B) - has been work of our compassion; aesthetic look. I'll call

DISTANCE to this possibility of human language translation standard grammar of enclasutrados subhuman. The distance is to escape the pain and the hit (let the blow fall on another, more just we, of course, because no one stands to save your ass). The Distance is bringing massive other's pain, inhuman moan away our lives for the salvation of a perception of a whole: poems, theses, picture ...

All art is tainted by the slime filed to prevent the coup that blind and dumb. All art is constructed in the distance.

Word of the distance defines a third resident who humbles himself contemplating with cold eyes black fish that is not right: what happens in the box. Morbid scream therapy or prophetic hopeless.

The subject-phrase above (B) does not seem to lights. Prisoner of his sub-humanity lives, sub-humanity which is marked on the balloon that contain text such as below (A), another sub-human to be more precise, it mutated into a subject-drawing comic, comic-patient the effect of state intervention (dossiers, reports, informed consent, justice, action resocializing etc.) and professional action of the guards, psychiatrists, therapists, bad lovers, pharmacology, nursing and domestic friendlies hoarders of appeasement free homemade liqueurs.

down type guy upstairs said the explosion delirious dream of a bubo. ******

..... I say that I am now both men dominated and, on the other hand, am not one of them as I rise and describe - in distance - the sad dearth of my two avatars institutionalized.

Me I'm worth and self-pitying (being Distance hit me sinuous slink soap and towel).

I confess, I am the soul of the distance itself, intelligent face of the once seduced the man of the year ;

I have attacked the other two figures and tied her arms to the bars to strengthen their sub-humanity;

meen I let it (and run) on top.

accomplices have not needed

excúlpese every institution and company

excúlpese the family, the love that disappointed and spiteful, who raped us before that time and we killed half the conversation or left us with the word half as initiated the trip.


In the distance at which I looked beaten with a piece of soap wrapped in a towel to let the other galvanized memory. Impossible to think after the rain of hosts. I hit and I was institutionalized in this

Dream itself, in the pain itself that the violence of the belt and the beating baptized

****

My head is the container that holds that old hurt in the stomach with a bar of soap wrapped in a towel. Q WOULD LIKE lyophilized his misery and off odors. But no way out. I'm in the box with all your shit, with the hum of suffocation that comes to me. They will die one day and I'll last me a while as objective sign of death. The Estranged's glorious and I will be upheaval in the old self and its double.

Edward Kienhold (and Nancy Reddin Kienholz): Sollie 17 (1981)
*******

Metadiscourse . speak and me comes to mind the idea that Kienholz this facility is really very little actual . I guess the image that shows the alienation of man institutionalized in its cure / conviction is trapped in the spirit of the seventies as a genie in a lamp. And no Aladdin to apply massage to the appliance. Everything vibrates at Kienholz and my text annotator, in a way very similar to Joseph Beuys spaces . Filthy facilities seventies. An old man with urinary and colonic bags hanging like lint cyborg. As these objects we perceive the past but not having written to testify to their expiration. My eyes today, far from filled with anger, trembling and in Grandma's kitchen when the light was and boiled to 125 things in a yellow dust and grease. In Beuys Kienholz and ethics are extravagant or epic that Malpensante felt that only served to quickly seduce young art students thirty years ago. Today, all old, we too epic workmen '. Head comes to the Neighborhood.

*******

If my head is the box Ward19 and say that the installation seems like a gizmo parked for the time, that means that I too am outside the flow quo. "Ward X 19" s eans that (and only) X is unable to define a poetic dwelling his contemporaries. " I'm not oracle, do not open the future for my children. They will have to look for life. Killing the father to build and obtain certificates of habitability ethical and aesthetic. Well. I agree that I can not build the home of the future. Well.

certify death Marrameow kitty.

signs are planned Grand Anarchy in the shadow of lorazepam

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to Paris she was ...


Maria Elena Walsh
graphite paper

What Is The Spc Number On Bmo

State Hospital (in the era of big Anarchy). CASEY MARTIN ORTIZ ONE

Edward Kienholz: The State Hospital. Exterior (1966)

DIVIDE. The world is divided into two large groups of people and this partition is my mood today. On one side are those who know what lies on the other side of that door (in the container Ward 19) and, secondly, those who do not know. In turn, the first group consists of at least two families: those who would close this unstable mood with a phrase like "In that container Ward 19 there is a describable X and Y" , and those who could not translate into words or signs or ideas they know that there are (and they know while they have seen.) Many of these Dopey silent for pride of expert or not to confuse the audience in time to child protection (in fact I do not think to hide the box is anything particularly unpleasant or that we should protect children in this case). I have the impression - and hope - that there is at least a thousand individuals who are silent because someone (or something) has told them to get an idea is very difficult task and to narrate it seems - ut pictura poiesis - requires the slow step that creeps into the sunset waving shadows and colors.

BOX. The box or bag. The case of Duchamp and Joseph Cornell boxes. Open both, showing a small museum, a display of Hegelian spirit after falling into the bile of the matter will be shattered in a million and a half of crystallites.

Will Ward 19 premium L'Egypte Madame Cleo Merode: Cours d'Histoire Naturelle Elementaire executed by Cornell?

Will Ward 19 a music box from which emerges a beautiful dancer and executes its circular dance for love (or put hot) to a lame toy soldier, former dervish - heliotrope - violently recruited in an act of injustice in anything increases the wickedness of the most treacherous of the Sultans?

"We dream of a dancer who smiles at us and we spent a few steps with spiky foot on the floor?

Ward Will a container port 19 injured by rust that corrodes all nearby the sea? What hides the portable storage? Chinese Kittens "not aware of Marrameow? "Illegal immigrants suffocated and gelatinous bodies? "Product R & D + i?. Aesthetic

solo port, once they have been the stevedores and the curious looking for bargains and mysteries with the smell of rum and sex. Factory aesthetic solitary - my childhood - but with the strength of the sea at their backs.

A stricken container as a state of mind in the midst of community joy.

STATE HOSPITAL. "We suspect's name or we are protected in phonation trisyllabic? I accept the rule the same way and for similar reasons as those wielded in my defense of the Church if monk, do not trust my heterodoxy or the scope of my fits of piety and vision. However, I recognize that the redescription of Ward 19 as "state hospital " may raise suspicions. Many people find it hard to believe that the box is Ward 19 dwell poetically or builds a home. Understanding this possibility is the danger they now throw me knowing it dwells within it wanted salvation as a poet. And signed the order of acquittal in this my act of insolence and recklessness: I am aware which proves that live where the danger is the doubling of the pain.

NOTE: In the group of those who do not know what the other side of the door Kienholz found they resolve their apparent ignorance indulging in binge wiki, no rust that library all knows. For these people the knowledge is just sex. Ironic, make fun of the tribe and the soldier romantic lead that captivates with the striper dancer.

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Cydia Sources For Pokemon

women's participation in the construction of everyday life just is not a new issue; women have been a fundamental part in the historical development of our towns and cities but our knowledge and our way of doing has been silenced and invisible for centuries. This "bad practice" was based on a belief that intended, and intended yet in many cases attributed to male viewpoint neutrality and universality that has been overcome again and again since Olympe de Gouges in 1791 drafted the Declaration of Women and the Civic .

When women think of the city and the country adopted an ethical commitment to all citizens and apply our own assumptions based on experience of the city and our expertise. Combining technical and life might well sum up our way of doing things. This new form can and should address the new realities, awareness of the need to contribute actively to the foundation of a new economic and social paradigm that is based on democracy, equity, justice and parity.

O.f. Mossberg & Sons Model #195ka

everyday life that

Everyday Life. Mixed life, not fragmented, in which everything affects everything. Life requires looking in the mirror every day and acknowledged. I recognized as a specific and capable of an overall assessment of a policy. Policy usually what we have in hand.

Our landscape, our rivers, our city, land. At the end of the day are all these "little" things that we seek shelter, air to breathe, which cling culture, places where we are, where they grow, love and die. We have been losing control over our land while we were losing control over our own lives. Regaining control may require start to look around and take account of our possibilities.

In 1911 Virginia Woolf claimed that something had already changed forever. "There has been a sudden and epically defined but a change in any case. All human relationships have changed: between masters and servants, husbands and wives, between parents and children. And when human relations change there is a change at the same time in religion, conduct, politics, literature. " Walter Benjamin also for urban life implies a profound anthropological transformation. "The city is a landscape more than industrialization, not even his spectacular scenery, but an essential vehicle of modern experience, their dramas, but also the emancipation possibilities it offers."

words, are changes in social relations that make revolutions.

now know that something changed about 2001, no epic images collected this time, The Internet was then permanently incorporated into our daily lives, irreversibly globalized world. So, now that what they call "crisis" we are moving gradually from a reality that we considered legitimately earned, we have that global use tool that is completing the process of universal education began more than a hundred years and that allowed us to learn to read, write and think critically. Face the future with determination is a question of recognition in the personal and collective. Question of confidence in the strength of our everyday energy network. Column

HoyxHoy Córdoba. Chain BE

Image is cover of " own room connected" Remedios Zafra (2010)

Can't Stay Awake During The Day

I promised ... Wishes for 2011

Freddie Mercury
graphite on paper
dedicated to Florence Pescatore



David Bowie
graphite and pencil on paper acuarelable
dedicated to Manuel Depetris



Pink Floyd
ink on paper
dedicated to Leonardo Barcelona



Doors
graphite on paper
dedicated to Andres Casciani

Sudden Menstrual Bleeding

. THE TENDERNESS OF THINGS

Invitation Wording For Third Birthday

Dream 2.0. Maze, guns and telephones

first dream
Year 2011

I mono and I'm accompanied by a monkey. We are united by some kind of emotional bond that can not be named as eroticism, passion or friendship. It's a strange feeling that binds us so hard and uncertain. Fear has been guiding us through this labyrinth of rooms that we cover and describe a journey in which I am like a teacher who reveals secrets to his disciple just know, without meditation or sober distance, the ideas spouted the party breath from the exertion. This precariousness of my expertise, our relationship is more egalitarian and compassionate than hierarchical. We could say we're two monkeys existentialist fleeing terrible danger, and in this situation, I have had to go ahead, show me ignorance and clumsiness in the form of wisdom. I'm a monkey in charge of their duties. Do not ask me how to be responsible in the world of dream world that only with great effort supports an interpretation. But the fact is that I live in the dream-laden monkey responsibility for the monkey.

Being a teacher and existentialist mono means that I perceive myself more as a place of ignorance stammer than an expert source. Tao a cracked vessel, with flakes that are the syllables of a crossword Dada. Mono unusual to feel lost even in a dream and having to simulate safety and teaching because the other needs you. I'm not yet spiritually prepared for such an ethical metamorphosis. A monkey faced with an epic esthete ethics without having read Kierkegaard.

I said I was a monkey but it would be more accurate to say that in my dream I see myself as a man trapped in the body and the soul of a monkey. I perceive myself as one of the commanders gorilla film Planet of the Apes but without the intelligence or language ability. O has not yet sprouted, or perhaps has been lost in the shadows. Hairy as Gregor Samsa in place did wake insect mono and had gradually been losing humanizing traits. Guerrilla a girl that god punished by a curator or dealer-male, was unable to drop the mask, being condemned to be featured circus freak. In humans we only have eyes and a tremulous piety reflected in them scared. And fear.

These are, therefore, two monkeys running away from ourselves or others, of our monstrous bestiality or living in the heart of some god or cruel man. She and I we move into a closed maze formed by connecting rooms with small windows and other passages as a cattery or skylights. Leave a room to reach another climbing walls faded much like someone painted or papered many years. All construction debris and threat means collapse. We went from one compartment to another lest the ground sinks or we catch the crash that follows our movements. And we do it obsessively - as things happen in dreams - and to exhaustion. Monkeys are not skilled and navigate the maze of rooms we are tired and accentuates our fears.

stop because my companion We can not go a step further. I take the break to show two objects that I put in my lap: a revolver and a cordless phone. I think I can not speak in human consciousness and my explanations run over run by a middle way between telepathy and gestures (Strange line, closer to the illusion than anything else, that occurs when two eyes afraid to cross!). I tell my co-disciple who never know whether to pull the trigger the gun fires a bullet. Sometimes Gatillazo only hear the firing pin in a vacuum. In other cases, the gunpowder explodes and we, as monkeys are, afraid to shout to the ground by pulling the gun display by our simian nature. I make several attempts and, indeed, the fourth or fifth shot hit the gun trigger and my partner and I scream like monkeys. It is a humbling experience having to do this ritual because, in our human background, vaguely understand that there is nothing to be afraid.

Something similar happens with the phone. Sometimes, pressing one of the keys, appears the voice of someone articulating words. However, we do not understand your message - if it is offered - and we have no possibility to understand if the speaker gives tips dictatorial or democratic orders for our good. We do not understand their language but felt, with tears in their eyes, that language was ours in the past or could become so in the future. This nostalgia and fear of being discovered us to remain silent when the voice comes from the handset, which, as I said, does not always happen.

My partner is very tired. Something tells me it has been surrendered and that will not leave this room. I look at the gun and the phone. I think in a maze like this gun should be used to kill Minotaurs or break open doors. However, never have the assurance that the next shot will be in a vacuum or a bullet will explode. Do not even know if there are more bullets. The phone, on the other hand, should allow us to ask for help. But the shame I speak, could not bear the humiliation of having my partner thought the other side of the phone is a monkey.

Sweat makes us ugly. I know I should leave my partner. I dare not kiss him. No I would remind you that the went past human or, hopefully, we could be in the future. It is more humane to shoot in the head. Even cry or molesting his weakness before escaping to other rooms. To relax and ejaculate a little afraid before going, alone, walking.

And these I wake up with a strange sensation in the mouth.

King Kong Love (John Barry, 1976)

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