Financial Aid Advisor Interview Questions

March 13, 2011 March 12, 2011

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Fred Astaire
in the bloom of youth *

At the supermarket, all I know now. And everybody loves me. All except the mirrors and their incorruptible legal proceedings.
The mirrors are relentless, you know, can not say anything other than tell the truth, as if he would do the trick, tell the truth.

Who am I?

My name Aureliano Torrecamonica, even though everyone knows me as the Despar Freddastèr. The legend is rampant in my neighborhood.
Dance to the beat of music blasting from the speakers while I line up to buy a bag of flour. You should see me stagger and wobbled to the side of the crowd.
I do the double step, under the astonished eyes of security personnel.
are in the bloom of youth.
87 years and you will hear him no more than twenty, this is my play, that's my strength.
I try with the old ladies in a row, with their dancing a step or tango or the abandonment fandango and then spinning back into the arms of their caregivers.
And I continue to dance and squirm until such time as I have to pay. Other customers, meanwhile, clapping in time and shouting my name. As soon as the cashier before I take off my hat, pull out the wallet and with flourish align the money on the back of his hand, I give them to him, screaming: Ahu! and then head for the exit by step Maicol Gecson blowing kisses to my audience into a frenzy.

Yes: they are in the bloom of youth.

And to think that until a few years ago I was not so much that a surveyor of the province without art part of it.
I spent my days waiting for his pension, which is slow and relentless when it came of my black hair that had not been a ruthless carryover. Life affects everyone, but some just rages.
On me, it was just relentless, damn it: bacon, wrinkles, balding, prostate pain, gastritis, ulcers, flaming, constipation textbook, chronic impotence.
My wife did nothing but complain all day. He felt "misunderstood." Poor beast.
holding me tight under the covers and whispered to me that he wanted to make love. I'd play, but he was never the same idea.
We try in every way, but nothing. Remained inert and limp as if it was not his job, absolutely deaf to all our flattery. He looked at us with his one eye laughing at us and our troubles. She then began to move about the room, saying he was misunderstood and shouting that he wanted a man. I'd scream to lower his voice, which was not necessary to know the entire building my problems, but she did not listen to me either. She was misunderstood. Those

were bad moments. Wow if they were bad times.

I knew if I did not do anything, everything would be over between us.
even worse: it would end, would go ahead in spite of us, we would continue to hate each other in silence until death would separate us. The pain was unbearable.
I loved my wife but I could no longer be a man.
Forty years of marriage, two children, a lifetime to solve problems and I did not have a shred of response against the offensive of the time.
The years I was being severely beaten before the eyes of my wife, while the hours, seconds, minutes kept me still.
Time is not honest, time is a son of a bitch, ecco cos'è. Ride a crepapelle delle nostre sofferenze. Ama vederci implorare. Gode nell'infliggerci ogni giorno un declino tanto lento, quanto inesorabile. Ha un unico obbiettivo: annientarci senza pietà. Quando finalmente si stanca di noi, di noi resta ben poco.

Di me oramai non era rimasto nulla.
Avevo paura, tanta paura, ma non riuscivo a fare nulla. Niente di niente.

Finché un giorno non avvenne il miracolo.

Ricordo ancora quella mattina, come se fosse oggi.
Tornavo dal supermercato, con le spalle incassate nel mio cappottone da vecchio. La giornata era più fredda del solito, tutto mi sembrava ostile, niente mi sembrava favorevole. La città era aliena, bieca e sbilenca, as my uncertain steps.
walked and thought about the future. Or rather I was thinking about what the future if they fuck with us, and we do not know if you know it, turns away, pretending not to see us.
The buses were a primordial strange noise when he stopped to let off passengers. It seemed the vent of a prehistoric animal. A huge prehistoric animal vomited unknown.

When I returned home, I noticed that there was music.
centuries had passed since the last time that the radio was turned on at home. There were still kids at home and most of their music was heavy and painful.
I was so used to silence domestic and the simple fact that we still had a radio source was amazing for me.
I went into the kitchen and found all set for lunch. It was only eleven in the morning. My wife smiled at me. I also smiled at her and I sat in my place.
had prepared the vegetable broth.
There were two steaming dishes in front of us. My wife was dressed up and smiling at me.
you feel something slipping away from my shoulders.
was the burden of life. All the frustrations, all the pain, all the rage.
ate continuing to look into his eyes, as if we were two little boys again. The radio transmitted
: Damn Primavera Loretta Goggi ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aZAEAfWvd4 )
I said to her dance? She said
guardandomi intensamente con un mezzo sorriso sulle labbra.
Feci il giro del tavolo, le porsi la mano.
Lei si alzo elegantemente dal suo posto.
Posi la mia mano sul dorso della sua schiena.
Lui portò il suo peso su di me e sprofondò la propria testa nel mio petto.
Io iniziai a ondeggiare al suono della musica.
Sentivo il profumo dei suoi capelli, le sussurravo che andava tutto bene, le palpavo il culo come ai bei tempi. Mi sentivo di nuovo un uomo.
Lei iniziò ad affondare le dita nella mia schiena, cercando le mie labbra.
E io non ebbi più alcuna paura.
Quel giorno abbiamo fatto l'amore tre volte di seguito e ogni volta tornavamo a ballare.
Abbiamo ballato Celentano, Cutugno, i Rich and Poor and Carrà.
Then we fell into bed exhausted, finally together.
My wife has stayed embraced me as she did when we were married.
I wanted to dance.

From that day on, my life changed.
only ate broth, we gave in and danced every day, if I danced my god!
dance all day.
danced continuously.
danced without pause. Never.

My wife was more puzzled.
danced too early, then after some time started to get tired more frequently, until it has completely stopped.
He just looked at me and backed sculettavo and home to the tune of Mas Que Nada http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kp23j4ulLs8&feature=fvst ).
I kept asking if I felt good. He was afraid that my body does not properly governed.
only answer I gave her two taps sang I Will Survive ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tth-8wA3PdY )

In the neighborhood had become a celebrity.
I had also bought a striped jacket that I wore a glove and made me feel even more fluid movements. Under wore a suit acetate, from which came a gold necklace of another era. I was the idol of pensioners.
were all in love with me, all they wanted to have a good time with me and sometimes they even offered to give me the soldi per i miei "servigi", ma io rifiutavo sempre con decisione.
Amavo mia moglie, ero suo e lei era mia.

Ero proprio un povero stronzo.

Ripensandoci adesso, il cuor mi balza in gola al pensiero di quanto ho perso. Avrei potuto farmi tutto il quartiere e invece ho continuato a scopare con la mia signora finché non ho avuto un infarto.

Mentre ero disteso sul lettino dell'ambulanza, un dottorino sulla trentina, con gli occhi strabici e l'alito che sapeva di menta, mi aprì finalmente gli occhi: avevo ingerito una quantità tale di viagra da uccidere un cavallo da corsa. Non riusciva a spiegarsi come fosse possibile che non avessi ancora tirato le cuoia.

All'altro capo della città, Meanwhile, two police officers interrogated my wife.
After several hours of terrible threats and incessant questions, she finally spills the beans.
for months without my knowledge crumbling daily three tablets of Viagra in my broth and then enjoyed the results.
why I always felt a bull.
It was not a miracle, but simply the effect of sildenafil overdose. He could kill me.
Fortunately, things went differently: I have undergone a bypass graft for summary that saved my life and she ended up in prison.
I've thought and thought several times: his was a gesture of love, even though it was completely crazy. He saved our marriage, but I was almost taken away.
Our case is finished well in the paper.
for a while 'we were on everyone's lips, then everyone will have forgotten us. The glory is nice while it lasts, then back to the same life as before.
Only that I'm back to business as usual. My wife is gone. I'm just at home. I crawl from room to room, not knowing what to do.
The radio still plays, but I no longer have the strength to dance. I do not have any youth.
Occasionally, some obscure radio station transmits other times in their schedule Blighted Spring and then I cry in silence, crying as the old ones.

Time is really a great son of a bitch. I feel alone and harnessed as only a cart at the supermarket can be.
fill me with the morning and evening, I leave shit stacked together with many other geeks out in the cold and frost.
between me and freedom is a mere €, which stops the chain. A

. Only. Wretched. €. Tra. Me E. La. Freedom.

A trifle, if it were not for the fact that I have no hands or fingers, or arms, and I can not find the words to ask someone to let me go.
life, if you do not dance, it's little stuff.
becomes disarming, as a joke told badly.

* based on a true story

Is There A Cure For Sensory Neuropathy

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These our '10s,
so lucky, so full of hope
A father. A son.

laugh at gilded butterflies .
Shakespeare, Lear: Act V, scene III

When he was fired for the umpteenth time, my father came home and darker than usual. It was the fifth time in a year, and the excuse was always the same: "reduction of personnel due to the crisis."

My father hated the crisis.

no more even that work, we have the furniture distrained Mom, we both knew. I was seven years old, but I was a kid very cute.

Nobody cared that we were left alone, he and I, and my mother was missing so unbearable.
There was a crisis, and for them this was a valid reason than to rescue us from our memories.

There was a picture in the kitchen, where we had all three: Mom, Dad and me.
Mom could also be beautiful in a hospital bed. In that photo dad smiled pressing my arm while I was looking at a point beyond the target.
seemed ages ago, but had gone only two years.

That morning, my father spent much time in the kitchen to watch quella foto, poi d'un tratto, si alzò di scatto dalla sedia, prese la foto tra le mani e la buttò nella spazzatura. Dalla mia stanza sentì tutto, ma non emisi un solo suono.
Solo allora sembrò accorgersi di me, ma non ebbe la forza di sorridermi, come faceva di solito. Aveva qualcosa in gola, che lottava per uscire. La stessa cosa che avevo io e che non voleva saperne di andare via.

Lo vidi dalla finestra scendere le scale, e andare in garage alla ricerca di qualcosa.

Quando tornò fuori, aveva un'ascia in una mano e una sega nell'altra.
Senza dire nulla, iniziò a potare un alberello che si ostinava da anni a crescere sul marciapiede davanti casa mia, malgrado tutto e malgrado tutti.
Quell'alberello was the only thing that made sense to look across the street. For the rest there were only blocks and concrete walls as far as the eye can see. And my father was pruning.
distinctly remember thinking that my father would stop prune if I only I could get out of bed and I were looking out the window. Except that I could not.

Meanwhile the tree is getting smaller. In less than no time had been reduced to a withered stump, with no more branches to be trimmed. Did they only look at, so defenseless, without arms to defend themselves from the world. He looked like me, I thought.

Then my father started to cut the bark. And yet I could not get up.
Finita la corteccia, scese sottoterra per potare le radici, una a una. Sentivo quelle cesoie affondare nel terreno e uscirne ogni volta con un brano differente di alberello. Non stava solo tagliando le sue radici, lui voleva rubargli l'anima. E io non riuscivo a fare altro che restare immobile sul letto a guardare il soffitto.

Quando terminarono anche le radici, lui iniziò a segare la terra, sempre più in profondità, con una foga tale, come se da quel gesto dipendesse tutta la sua vita.
Dalla mia stanza, nel frattempo, speravo che prima o poi incontrasse il magma e dovesse arrendersi. Ma non fu così. Riuscì a trovare il modo di evitare il magma che abitava il nucleo del nostro pianeta e superare il centro della terra.

continued to saw through the night. I'm up there in my room I could not even move, I was reduced to a vegetative state, in contemplation of the absolute ceiling. I told myself that when he arrived in China, I would have got up and I would have stopped, but I could not really be convinced.
When dawn came up I heard him distinctly traced back to the streets of Shanghai.
And for the first time in a long time, my body began to give tentative signs of life. I sat up at the same moment when he emerged from the earth into the air in China. Now stop, I thought. But evidently he had other plans.
In less than no time he climbed the trees, following the branches and then leaves and from there began to move across the sky, its huge with those shears. With

they opened the road up, up, on and on, sawing everything, fiercely, until the infinite space. Arrived there, he began to cut entire constellations, prune blacks holes, galaxies, stars and stardust.

was cutting away everything. On the other hand: no longer made sense, without my mother. We both knew.

When in the end, after making a complete revolution of the universe, once again landed with a thud on the sidewalk in front of my window, I pulled back the curtains and I finally facing.

The tree was still there. I knew I had always known, could not be otherwise.

And beneath him, my father was crying.

It would also laid off for the feelings, particularly those with fixed-term contracts, which avoid the emotional shock of the butcher's in social revolution.

anxiety, depression, pain, when not broken, leave us numb inside, unable to do certain movements that before there were so spontaneous.
Just before leaving, my mother wrote me that: There is something in the life of everyone who is not allowed to write .
He was right: there is something in everyone's life, which is not allowed to write ever.

What Can I Do With My Old Hd Movies

March 8 ... NOTICE

Do You Need A Fuse For Boat Cd Player

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Farmville

Plato was just a jerk.

E 'his fault that everyone is so convinced that it is enough to fall in love to feel complete. The androgynous
: that huge bitch.
Thanks, Plato, with your words you invented the loneliness and you did it all by myself! Congratulations!

Did you just write a book over 2500 years ago to destroy millions of men and women. Good job, congratulations again.

No longer able to enjoy life after your "Symposium," are all too busy looking for their obsessively half. For them, nothing else matters.
You were a genius, you gave them something to rage, and we fell for them in full. All

to seek love, even love, because to them it is written capitalized.
Allocchi.
more I can not even feel sorry for you, you're really too stupid.

But I do not fool me, you're not old inchiappettafanciulli else: I do not think so.

what I think otherwise.

I think each of us is complete before you begin. It is love that breaks us, not vice versa.

Let me explain: if you fly, and then, only after, you go in two.

The trouble is that this split makes you happy, extremely happy, because you think you're finally one.
Really you as far removed as there may be from one, but so you will not even notice, you're too involved in distorting your feelings to make them coincide with the idea that you love.

Until one day, those two units which rend you do not break something and in less than no time you find yourself in three.

Three instead of two, and you continue to believe that love will complete coglionazzo poor.
No matter which of them was to break down further, you can be or can be other things, the thing that matters is that your unit begins to be torn to pieces with a chainsaw, yet continue to resist, or rather, to insist. That is your half and must remain, gosh.

And go on like this for a while ', until at a certain point, when you least expect it, those three be back in two.
Think long, but do not come again. You know you've lost something, just do not know very well what it is. It 'a little more than a feeling, but you feel uncomfortable.

Thus, in less than no time he goes back to being one.

In the background is just what I wanted , think, trying to do with it for a reason.
poor beast.

How do you not understand that the one you are now, not he has nothing to one you were before?

It 's like you're missing something (a piece, a smile, a song, a movie) to be able to make it back to be the one you were. Or maybe you're too full of something, in order to clear the table.
One is that you have become lame, dirty, biting, looting and what's more it snows. It snows everywhere.
Suddenly you realize how foolproof the people, understand what you're missing the flight and then not give it to you.
You shuffle around the city, just as only a crowd can be, in line with the rest of two to three.
makes no sense to repeat that all is well, because it does not. Minds. All you do is lie yourself. The accounts never return.

You're a donut with a hole in the middle.
a spasm, only a spasm, nothing more.

Meanwhile, the fun and love goes under 'study balcony.
looks like the wind and then go back, never stops, except to say hello, shake his hand and say goodbye.

And I'm here for days, to plant seeds in the fields of Farmville, trying to figure out what was the exact moment when I split in two, to become this void that I can not fill.

Plato crap.

It takes a lot, but a lot of patience, to be able to give as food to concerns, to cultivate a peaceful solitude, away from your clamor.

74 richieste di amicizia.
Sono tante, cazzo.
Il mondo è pieno di gente interessata a farsi i cazzi miei.

No, non accetto più l'amicizia di nessuno, ho deciso.

Voglio una bacheca vuota.
Come i miei campi su farmville.

Oggi è proprio dura, dura come non lo è stato mai.
Però adesso sono pronto.
Adesso finalmente sono pronto. Lo so. Lo sento.

La verità è che in amore non esistono ricordi, soltanto lunghi addii stupidi, crudeli e dolorosi.
Durano una vita e fanno male.
E' come morire ogni volta.
Solo che poi continui a vivere.

Enter or leave?

Best Summer Camp Seattle

March 11, 2011 March 10, 2011 March 9, 2011

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foil

The foil is a good example of useless perfection, I am increasingly convinced.

Moreover you can also curl, no small advantage.
And then there are the tomatoes.

the tomatoes, which are perfect: red outside and red inside, open them and there are only flesh and seeds, no bones, hair, flesh, heart ventricles and bla bla bla. Nothing but the pulp and seeds.

do not know if you see: tomatoes have nothing, absolutely nothing, di complesso, solo polpa e semini. E sono felici, porca miseria, sono felici.

Tu sei felice?
Non stare così tanto a pensarci, no che non sei felice, te lo dico io. Fidati. Tu non sei un pomodoro.

Gli occhi, tanto per dirne una: i pomodori, gli occhi, non li hanno.
Un pomodoro non può guardarti negli occhi, una notte d'inverno gelida e rancorosa, e dirti: Lorena (pausa) tra noi è finita (pausa ancor più lunga) e sai perché?

Perché un pomodoro non ha occhi!
Niente occhi per i pomodori. Ah!

E le orecchie, poi?
Le orecchie, i pomodori non sanno neanche cosa sono. Ah!

Al pomodoro non puoi regalare un phone, as he would listen to the ringtone without ears or type a message if no fingers?

Not to mention the words, fucking words.

Words are noise for tomatoes.

know? Noise!

Have you ever heard a tomato to say "I love you"? No
that you have not heard, damn it.

Have you ever heard a tomato apologize because "I love you more than you think"? No
that you have not heard.

Have you ever heard a tomato tell a lie?

No!
Tomatoes do not tell lies! Tomatoes never lie, because in silence is not lying.

Yes, now you have the understand: I adore tomatoes,

Tomatoes may not be (nor aspire to) be more than what they are.
Tomatoes are tomatoes and enough.

Their perfection is complete.
complete idiot and, as it should be all perfection.

We do not. To us the idiocy it sucks, think a bit 'that we're smart.

We have hands, arms, ears, teeth, moles, saliva, words ...

We are full of words, we are full of words, we are swollen with words, we are bursting with words: "I love you," I hate you "," I love you "," I want you "," I do not want to hurt you, " "You're my whole life," "always" "forever" "muoio per te", "non ti dimenticherò mai"...

Noi siamo sommersi da parole, possiamo nominare ogni cosa, possiamo descrivere ogni cosa, possiamo fare ogni cosa, eppure siamo incompleti. Brutti, ciechi, storpi e sgangherati.

Non abbiamo la perfezione dei pomodori, noi; non siamo rossi fuori e rossi dentro, noi.

Siamo altro, noi.
Noi. Siamo. Altro.

Noi non viviamo la felicità che raramente e spesso neanche ce ne accorgiamo.
Siamo lì che ci arrabattiamo per salvare la pelliccia, giorno dopo giorno, tentando di non provare troppo dolore, utilizzando ogni mezzo, anche quelli più infidi, pur di sopravvivere anche solo un altro istante, e poi, improvvisamente, when we least expect it, so here is that happiness is BUM! And

drain. Happiness draining, trust me.
and drain. And drain. Dripped incessantly.
dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped , dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped , dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, sgronda, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped, and then
ends.

[looking at the phone]

He no longer calls, fuck.
No, no longer call.

And I'm here, alone and cold, talking to a mirror in tears, believing that it is an unknown.

I try to remember his words, his body, the sounds that he did when he fucked her, what was his writing, what I said, that sent me text messages but I can not.

I forgot everything.

The brain is always a lot of cruel ways to put a spoke in the wheels. I'll tell you.
The brain is really a great son of a bitch, christ.

"It 's over there that" think so, I was thinking, it is true, I will not be fooled by you and your goddamn shit, and you know why? because I'm not finished, I still have a lot of cartridges I can not be denied, I will not be fooled by you or on your shit, shit out of your damned, coz you were thinking, oh yes if you were thinking: "what is over there ".

I am not "that woman."
And as you see here are always, brilliant with prickly dignity, and I stay here, I'm always here and stay here, all right if I stay here.

"It 's over here that" tze.

shit. Damn shit.
I'm here, I will.
Stay here, I will.
You are finished, I'm not finished.
I never finish.
You and your smelly smile.
You and your fucking shit.
Got it? UNDERSTAND?

damned liar.
'm not finished I'm not over I'm not over I'm not over I'm not finished fucking can not be over not over not over.
I'm not finished.

Youth is a matter of concentration, such as cunnilingus.
You are distracted for a moment and not only have thirty but you also have joints that begin to hurt when the weather changes.

As the old saying? The time fixes things?

Time is a great son of a bitch, but. Complicates life unnecessarily, it hits everyone, without exception, old, women and children, some of them save for a bit 'on the other rages, but, Exaggerated or not, unfortunately against him there is no hope at the end always wins .

[looking at the phone]

And he does not call, damn it.

Behind every woman is always a hidden Penelope, even when filled with mines and barbed wire path that leads to your heart. All

still waiting someone or something, every day weaving their web of daily tasks, and then dispose of them at night, when nobody hugs or comforting.

Some expect his father, waiting for the other mothers, others a brother or sister that never arrive, and still others his true love, what we have lost many years ago and trying to find in each report. The most unfortunate

expect love, life, and it never comes.

And find yourself hard and withered, his fingers wrapped around your rosary with little alternative, but always in the seashore.

Maybe there are women happy.

Cheaters Korean Movie Online

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PRECISAZIONE . . .

In merito alle dichiarazioni fatte da Emanuele Verghini, in riferimento all'appoggio di tutto il centrodestra al candidato sindaco della coalizione Gabriele Caropreso, vorremmo far presente, a questo personaggio che casomai ancora non lo sapesse o non gli fosse chiaro, all' interno della lista denominata appunto "Centrodestra Uniti per Oriolo", sono presenti candidati di tutte le componenti di partiti di centrodestra, con ben 3 elementi tesserati PDL. Vorremmo inoltre far presente, che ad Oriolo Romano, nessuno ha il titolo per definirsi segretario, membro of the board or spokesmen of the PDL, much less who is trying to set up a third list of "soup" with even elements belonging to the left, because none has been formally appointed by the Federation of Viterbo, let alone Mr. Emanuele Vergina which is, this is , affiliated with another political movement, the Popular Liberals Giovanardi, a movement that just a few days ago was quick to argue with the PDL in fact, the lack of incisiveness to Democrats' interior of the center.

We invite Mr. Emanuele Vergina and his followers, as well as policy-making (if he can) in the square, among the people, rather than over the Internet or newspapers, to read up before you open your mouth and explain before the Orioles why they choose not to openly support the center-right coalition seeking instead "accommodation" in the list of possible third escaped PD, IDV, PRC, etc. ....
The center-right coalition of Oriolo Romano

Response to post " THE PDL of Oriolo Romano Caropreso categorically denies" 8 March 2011. (ed.)

Licorice Flavored Icecream

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disturbed people

bad thing, dependence

They are sitting in a circle, have bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, wearing clothes a little 'analysis, speak in a low voice - when they speak - they looked sad and confused, their thoughts are all tangled. Result
a bit 'before you approach them.
E 'dependence, always her.
me screaming to get back outside, to run away from that place, to abandon the therapy before it even begins. I do not want to hear it, I do not want to listen more, made me suffer too, have reached the bottom, is the despair that dragged me there and is the despair that helps me to stay.

Shooting a deep breath, close my eyes and uncertain step, just stumbled on the most beautiful, reach their circle. Someone whispered, "here's another one", thinking that I do not feel it, someone else smiles at me with a smile and dirt away and I feel deeply uncomfortable.

what is probably the facilitator came towards me with a chair, "hold," he says, "sit well, you guys make room for Daniel, your name is not Daniel?"
"Yes," I say softly, almost ashamed, and I do not know why either.
"Boys greet Daniel"
"Hello Daniel" I meet all together.
"Our group is improving at every meeting," gloats satisfied with the facilitator. "A sign that the therapy works and that the addiction can be overcome."

all listen with great attention, with too much attention to his words.

"But we continue our session and let Daniel environments. Only two words to explain what happens: This here (points to the gathering with his hand) is the circle of life, everyone is part of it has an obligation to be honest. No one ever will check the veracity of what is said inside the circle, but it makes no sense to lie, the dependence is motivated by the lies, it seems trivial, but for many it is not and is literally the first thing to learn. Inside the circle of life turns everyone can relate their experiences to share with everyone else. No one has to judge within the circle of life, this is the second rule, and should not judge because no one can judge anyone.
What's the Circle of Life? I'll probably be wondering, the answer is obvious: You can walk, to move forward. Although it may seem incredible, the Circle of Life has the power to calm the demons that addiction creates. So far so clear? "

I feel a score of eyes on me, I have a moment of mind local (no lies, no judgments, ok) and then say," yes. " The facilitator
apparently satisfied by the response, sits down and says with a firm voice: "Well! So keep ... it was Jack's turn."

Jack is a bearded man, dressed like a freak, with glasses and a pretty nice pile of books that stand under its own pretentious chair. As soon as you feel called, jumps up, looking around a bit 'dazed. Immediately recognize the signs of addiction in his gestures. But seemingly harmless gestures that reveal those who have eyes and experience to recognize a long love-hate relationship with addiction.

"Hello everyone, I'm Jack and I am a dreamer."

"Hello Jack, come on, tell us your experience, will respond all'unisono gli altri Sognatori Anonimi. Continuo a sentirmi a disagio.
"Sono settimane che non riesco a tornare alla realtà, è come se fosse evaporata da me, lasciandomi inerte".
"Lascia perdere le metafore Jack", suggerisce il facilitatore, "non sono che strumenti della Dipendenza per tenerti legato a lei. Devi imparare ad essere oggettivo".
"Ma come si fa? Ogni cosa che guardo mi rimanda a qualcos'altro, è come se il mondo fosse pieno di segni che rimandano ad altri segni che rimandano ad altri segni e così all'infinito. Una fitta selva di significati e significanti nel quale adoro muovermi".
"Ti ho detto di lasciare perdere le metafore Jack. Sii oggettivo, la realtà è oggettiva, il mondo Poetry is not prose, always remember this: the world is prose! The dreams change reality, make us slaves of their complicated plots, making messed up. But we are stronger than them, right guys? "
" Yes, "I reply in unison even though all their voices are uncertain.
" From the start again, "says softened the facilitator," tries to tell us about new you, no metaphors this time. "

Jack has the look down, it is clear that costs so much about, yet talk about." My life is hell. All around me work, produce, have children, buy things and are happy. I can not do any of this, I can not even get a coffee the bar without imagining the endless textures that hide customers' lives and then start trying to figure out what their mutual relations, they do outside the bar, who you know, who love, who hate each other. Only those that slowly my stories become more real than reality and the reality begins to seem more and more trivial and nonsensical. "

" Do not offend the fact, Jack. You live the reality, not dreams. Dreams are useless, dreams are dangerous, they do stupid dreams, dreams are addictive, dreams are the worst thing we could invent to destroy us all. I've seen many like you, Jack, get lost. As your dreams take possession of them are transformed. Before starting not to care about most of their lives, they become unproductive, work little and badly, then begin to think about changing reality, as if reality could be changed and is not, by contrast, already given, a pure objective fact, the real problem is that at this point will always find someone who favors them, which comes in around him as well and this is dangerous: the revolutions, large bumps society, art is born from this and we know what are all these things, right boys? "

" Stuff from debauched ", this time they say it in angrily.

" Exactly: just stuff debauched, by people who like to be jacking off rather than laid. We see them every day, on street corners with those fucking eyes lost in the sky, with hideous smiles. Smiling sucks! Damages the skin, makes it similar to apes, always implies a disrespect for the sadness of others and what they do? They smile. But there we FUCK their smiles, we do not need to smile, is enough for us to be happy. And you know what happiness is, Jack? "
" What? "Asks Jack dismay. It 'tried, tested a lot.
" Happiness is having goals and achieving them, fuck everything else. Happiness is doing things the right way so that nobody has to say, that no one can ever say: you were wrong. Because dreaming is wrong, guys, and I assure you we suffer, we suffer like dogs. "

" I first dreamed of every day. "It 'a very tall girl. Her curls fall on the face, making it quite dreamy." I dreamed of travel, the places I dreamed that I saw, I dreamed people that I know, I dreamed of the things I learned. And then you know how did it go? I visited places that were different than I dreamed of and now can not remember the real places, but places soiled by disgusting all those dreams. "
" I dreamed of a girl, but this did not love me. If I had been healthy, if I had not known the bonds of addiction, I never suffered so much, why is the most ferocious of the world to love someone who loves other '. It is an old man, his body bears the marks of suffering a prolonged and profoundly unjust.

"Easy boys, calm, Jack was talking, let him finish. There is time and space for everyone. "

I find myself muttering:" Look in the middle of hell, all hell is not and give him time and space. "All they stop suddenly, frightened at the sound of those words .

The facilitator is directed toward me, you put in front of me and started to yell "Bullshit! Only shit! Boy do not fuck yourself: REALITY 'IS NOT' HELL! DREAMS ARE HELL! The dreams devour! Store them right on the head! "
swallow floor, face flushed with anger of the facilitator I tremble. He understands that he exaggerated, he swallows, he turns to Jack: "Go ahead Jack."
Jack, meanwhile, is sitting back, he murmured in a low voice: "Yesterday I dreamed about yesterday ..." and then bursts into tears.

The girl with curly blacks hugs him, he continues to cry. There is an atmosphere of general commotion, even in a broken voice, the facilitator tries to comfort Jack, as if it were possible consular someone, "Come on boy, is running out, together we can win it, the addiction."

All those present are visibly shaken. They try to hide their anxiety talking about:
"Damn dreams, while still haunts us?"
"Who made us so why not we can not dream?"
"When will it all end? When? When?"
"I also wanted to see, brother. I feel you near." The facilitator
let everyone sfoghino, then when the voices fade, with few glances restore calm in the circle of life.

"What now?" asked Jack, after a while '.
"Now we hear what he has to tell Daniel," replied the facilitator.
"Yeah, Daniel, why are you here? What is your experience? What's your story?" He says. We listen to you. We always listen. "

Who Portrays Jack Of Jack-in-the-box

receive and publish

IL PDL DI ORIOLO ROMANO SMENTISCE CATEGORICALLY Caropreso

The PDL of Oriolo Romano categorically denies the statement by Gabriele Caropreso that "all parties of the center" of the country would support the local secretary of "The Right" as a candidate for Mayor, in opposition to Graziela Lombi, current coordinator of PD.

"And with amazement - said hot Emanuele Vergina - we learn this news is false, considering with what you clear that there is no center-right united to support the candidacy for Mayor of Caropreso Oriolo Romano" .

Cost Reupholster Boat Seats

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Crafts

the housework they do, I will. Mica I have money to burn, I. I'm smart, I. Cunning and extremely clever.
not work for some pimps pay those of masons and painters, I will.

And you know why?

Why not stand people who are slaves of that bunch of vultures, those who can not even hang a picture without someone to give € 100. In life you have to adapt in life who always wins in the ass and make itself the rest.

No?

My son said to me: "Dad, the sink lose."
Got it? the sink loses [grin]. "
" We call the plumber, "she says. Poor thing.

The plumber?

Quell'avvoltoio pimp who does nothing but steal money to honest people who work?, I'm like, what the plumber 'Last time it was stolen 40-euros-40! right to call and then went to have it put in the ass by a black deaf? That one? ask him. But as a plumber and caps to fuck! Now you can save by Today the housework and I do them in the ass to inflation.

You know what I did?

I bought 10 euros a tube of tin and stuck it to him at that sink and I liked it as well, a bitch of a sink, let me tell you. Now that it is a pleasure.

The plumber, Tze.
The plumber does not do shit. No.

. Because ... listen to this:
"Dad, I am sorry tooth", he says, "we call the dentist."

The dentist?! Most of all vulture? What manages to steal the soul to the devil?! I say to him. "Yes, dad, the dentist, my mouth is bursting with grief!" he replies and begins to whine and moan and call my mother. Punk and queer, I think, but I will not tell if it really becomes no, punk and queer, because I'm not a jerk, I.

I am a father too clever, myself. I know a lot of tricks to raise my children healthy and strong. My kids will rip your ass, nothing but.

Where were we?

Ah yes, my mother called, that little son of a bitch and get my wife as well (I think they had made an agreement).
and begins to scream and she starts to cry and stuff. "Please, let's drag him to the dentist," he says, "Can not you see his face swollen?", Etc etc. me.

the same old crap. We

as we did every time I say to him, let's drag him to the vet, it's like a doctor, but costs less and is not a vulture, nasty misery, if he earns them money, toiling, as the people who work . He does not have a store with all my money, I tell him.
"We can not," she says. "The vet the last time he threatened to sue us," she says.

report? The son of sucaminchia? I make him. That young doctor for female dogs in heat? What? What he wanted to sue us?
I tell him just like that (ah uah.. Ah.): "The young doctor for bitches in heat" because it is: a young doctor.

You know what then? There I do from me, I do.
there that we do not need the fucking doctors.
Where is the screwdriver? Him I'll blow that fucking tooth. With just a screwdriver and a hammer and a bit 'of hydrogen peroxide.

And she continues to whine, you do not understand even the most what he says, but so I do not give a fuck beloved. Keep still, instead of breaking my balls, I make him.
So much so that it will take? Those graduates "steal the master's degrees. They have never worked in their lives. Miss a minute of work.
medical students? I remember them medical students, all in Bologna to play the chip and fuck birimbau twenties while I break your ass to work. There they are your doctors, to steal money from parents and gutted chips in their twenties. Want to give money to these people here? answer me, instead of crying, do you want? Meanwhile

point the screwdriver on the tooth and start hammering. That bastard of a tooth takes a lot of time to sell, but in the end I win, slut of a misery. I always win. My son goes to sleep immediately after the first shots. It 's good, at least not fuck the mast step. He sleeps and I hammer and when I finished the whole rinsing with hydrogen peroxide. Even clean tools.

The dentist, Tze.
Thieves. They are all thieves. Thieves and whores, if they are females.

About girls, sorry but I must go. I have to remove the appendix to my daughter. Ten minutes and you're done.
I've done with my mother-in-law: you take a kitchen knife, cut under the belly, he expects the patient to faint, you cut away the meat and then sew together with the edge of the fishing rod. That I'm clean, even spit on the wound also uischei, so it heals faster (eh.eh.eh.eh.), but this is just a fad. The important thing is to do everything quickly, and avoid close your eyes. I did when I had liposuction to my wife and later was a mess. I had to throw away a lot of healthy things, but eventually I did and I saved a lot of money (din din din).

In life you need to know to do a little 'or the other if they take advantage.
This is a world of shit, my dear. I'm thirsty all of our money.
We bring a flash to throw it in the ass.
But not me.
'm smart, I.
I do not, fuck.

Hess And (gift Card And Register)

March 8, 2011 March 7, 2011 March 5, 2011

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Alberi, scoiattoli e maniaci depressivi
Vita e opere di Alberto K., pubblicitario.

Temo che chiudere la camicia fino all'ultimo bottone non faccia di me un creativo pubblicitario, è triste eppure è così, bisognerà che mi abitui.
Questo mondo è ingiusto, profondamente ingiusto.
Come me, del resto.

Cosa succede a un pubblicitario che non riesce più a creare nulla? Niente: viene sostituito da un altro pubblicitario che ancora non è stato divorato dalla cocaina e dal sesso a tre con bambine tailandesi.
La creatività si compra and sold just like everything else.
The trick is to fool the people who is irreplaceable, at a time prior to fire her. It always works and I'll save face on settlements.

As I drove away to kick your ass from my desk, using any touch as she could, my boss did not find better than obsessively repeating phrases that I had suggested him when he drove away in the creative I have taken the place:

"A heart that has never been broken is not a heart, it's just a muscle.
A man who has never been fired is not a man, is only one permanent employee.
This is the first day of your new life. You're a free man now. Enjoy your money. "

quite right him:" I am a free man now. "

I am a free man.
am. A man. Free.

" Freedom is just a bad moment, but passes hurry, son. "Me, I repeat every morning when I look in the mirror in a crisis of identity, then shot two strips from the nose, even before making coffee.
I cemented the nostrils. I do not eat even more. Bevo, aim and shot coke. I prefer not to see anything, rather than be wrong.
If only I try to think, my head explodes.

Until last week I was a young man who liked to dress as a publicity bum and bake successful campaigns (WHY 'I am worth - GOD DOES NOT EXIST, BUT IT LACOSTE'! - ALL VA translation: The pitcher who buy from AUSCIAN), but now I am a young homeless man who loves dressing up as a successful advertising, unable to bake anything.
When you lose your love when you feel like become butt ugly and sick is bad when you become ugly and horny, and when you should become very badly in love with another person.
When you lose your job, instead, simply become meaningless.
Suddenly you realize that everyone else around you are doing something, except you, and it is terrible, believe me, terrible. You are the bee died of a heart attack a few steps away from the hive. The ant lame, unable to scrape away the crumbs from a loaf of bread to bring to the nest. Six gear rusty you replace with the new gear, because it is unsalvageable .
And the money is useless, just useless.
The money does not bring happiness. Only serves to make up coca and escort.
I have two million euro on my bank account and not a shred of reason to go forward.

'm an army in full retreat from Russia. Muoio
frozen while trying to cross the border. Around me there are only snow, silence and Soviet soldiers who want to beat my ass.

Why are we so obsessed with beauty?
Because the world is ugly, unbearable ugly.
And the reality is unbearable.

Although it will seem incredible - I know, I am sure you know how my pockets, have faith - it SODDING galaxies of us and our penis.
GDP, the crisis in the Middle East situation, the cash-integration, fiscal federalism, unemployment and all the rest, are important only for us, for all other living beings and not simply a bitch.
We are the masters of the universe, only that the universe does not know.
We build the future we decompose gracefully, for fear of making too much noise. Someone would notice us.

I call Tamara. I have a desperate need of his lips and his eyes closed.
I do not respond, it will be with some customers.
Not bad, I say, call someone else, but do not press any buttons.
burst into tears.
I crawl for hours in a supermarket. I smile at surveillance cameras. I'm completely stoned. Keep flying
happy / higher than the sun and higher still / while the world slowly disappears / blue in my eyes.

I try to call Tamara. This time, she says, has a sleepy voice. Do not utter a single word, I look at my reflection on the counter fridge. It seems like a brand.
A brand among others.
This world is in my image and likeness, and there is no reason to where this has happened.

I invented thousands of words, giving me his arm.
phrases can make a home and push it to buy a myriad of crap which has no need. I think I'm a genius, just do not know in that field.
My words are men. Unfortunately.

Tamara continues to repeat for a while ': "Alberto? Alberto? Why do not you talk?", On the other end of the phone, then hangs up.
I limit myself to breathe.
I am a free man now.
Freedom is not a golden turn acting within the lie, the least showy.
freedom he enjoys making fun of us.
Freedom is a lie that looks dangerously the truth.
God, as they burn my nostrils.

front of me a girl smiles.
I love her, but all she will never know. Dura
all less than a minute.
When I come back on the ground in front of a cashier that I just looked at me and expects me to type a code on a machine.
someone behind me cursing my slowness.
The girl, meanwhile, is gone.
not such a great love had to end so badly.

Outside it rains.

And it is sad to die without children.

How To Clean Old Doilies

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The elezioni si perdono
una storia d'amore

Tanto per fare qualcosa decisi di andare a votare.

Stavo disegnando la solita vagina mastodontica, pensando nel frattempo a quale frase mettere, occupazione che solitamente richiedeva qualche minuto di attenta riflessione e valutazione, quando d'un tratto sentì uno schianto fuori dalla cabina elettorale. Uscì in fretta e furia dalla cabina, dimenticando di chiudere la scheda. Il presidente di seggio era livido in volto, spostava lo sguardo a destra e sinistra, indicando la porta.

"Sono....Sono....".
"Sono?"
"Sono diventati lupi!"
"Ma chi?"
"I candidati!"
"What do you mean? What is this? A metaphor?".
"Metaphor shit, those are their wolves."

Indeed it was.

Those candidates were the same as before, but wolves.

It is not easy to explain. They had all the paraphernalia that went with them to campaign for each election: their fucking cell phones, their written on folder containing the names of those who had to vote, the packages of pasta and good petrol shared with each election in the popular districts and above all had their cruel smile that is compliant, that smile "votami then butt-fuck you" which apparently was their ultimate weapon.
short, were pretty darn the same as before, only now they were wolves. You could see them standing on their legs, shiny in the summer giubottino, nose sniffing the air while discussing with others trying to persuade them to vote. There were indeed some Spartan Tickets for the disco with their huge paws in exchange for something. You looked at him and you wondered: how do wolves know what a disco?

had finally removed his mask.
Other than the center-right and center, but democracy and caps to fuck.

by now had been the mere evidence of a pack of wolves who fought against other wolves to decide how to divide the spoils, and we were the spoils. It took centuries, but finally the policy had come to be understood. Understandable and terrifying.
People fled in all directions, raising cries to high heaven. There was pandemonium.

the crowd I found myself next to the scrutinizing of the seat next to ours.
I had seen only briefly and seemed to me the beauty of a completely anonymous.
Now that was next to me, smell her perfume and I liked it. He also had beautiful eyes that he was focusing on me, or rather about something in my hand.

fucking card! I'd completely forgotten.
was a fraction of a second she laid eyes on the huge vagina, then turned his eyes on me, I lowered my card and noticed a well in his hands on which he had drawn a huge penis, the riguardai eyes, smiled at me, smiled at her.

I have not stopped looking at her.

Love is just a strange thing.
always stretch when it is too late, when now it is now dusk.