Monday, October 26, 2009

Next Top Model Average Bmi

Another Prince Charming And we have not seen anything

"The big fish reaches that size because they never get caught" (Tim Burton).

In the film Big Fish, we see how the main character, Edward Bloom, spends his life telling stories, fabulous and implausible about his past. And his son is sick. Your child is injured. Your child is a sensible young man who feels he does not know his father, because every time I asked him to tell how a certain thing occurred, given fact, the father uses some of his tales. Edward Bloom told his son that the day of his birth, he was not present at birth because that was the day I caught the big fish, a huge and almost mythological fish that lived in the river of people.

One day the child is with the old doctor who attended their birth, and asks how he was actually born. The doctor, who knows the version of Edward Bloom (as everyone knows in town), he answers:

"Your mother came alone because your father was on a business trip and did not arrive on time. Your father's version is better, right?

Edward Bloom is a difficult person, as is every person who does not get caught by the established models. There is a rebel: a guy who has a very particular way of seeing things and, therefore, a very particular way of acting: in a land of magicians, he believes in magic. And as every true believer, not merely to believe, but active belief, the feedback.

In one of his radio monologues, Alejandro Dolina said: " ... but sometimes, I say, these games are not as innocent and sometimes, the game is simply live as if we had not yet happened for the best. And that already is a heavy game, a game that sometimes is expensive, a serious game. And you play it, play it seriously, as children play with the same faith or poetry that Coleridge called to understand the art, with that resignation to unbelief ...".

And it Joaquín Sabina himself says: "... for lies, the reality promises everything but nothing gives you, my crime was wearing blue to gray prince. "

So, as they say Dolina and Sabina, this is Edward Bloom. Do not get caught. Playing, keep playing, as if he had not yet happened for the best, as if I had not seen anything yet. Prince wears blue gray, and does so in a serious way, because his life is at stake (the life he chose to live, with big fish unattainable and werewolves whose apparent evil "is only loneliness and lack of social refinement").

Los Edward Bloom del mundo son la delicia de los detractores. ¿De los detractores de qué? De los detractores en general, de los detractores y punto.

Y como sé que mi tendencia a la honestidad brutal, a la carencia de eufemismos, a la necesidad de la verdad como lanza y como escudo, puede generar confusiones válidas, aclaro: yo también creo que las versiones de Edward Bloom son mejores. Yo tampoco quiero dejarme atrapar. Porque yo también quiero seguir jugando como si todavía no hubiera visto nada.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Vyavanse Street Price

Chinese shadow

He is an artist of the shadow play. He likes to set the stage, light candles and place them in the place that best suits your art. I love to sit in my chair against the wall and let myself fascinated by the talk that his hands invent. Dance is silent. He speaks not only creates figures. And I have to guess what it is.

"This is the heroic gladiator beats ice with his sword trained to kill the lion.

He growls at how quickly my answer, no one likes to be guessed, even so, I always choose as a partner because he knows I'm going to guess. He loves the sensations. His hands returned to dance in front of the fire flickering candles, the darkness is ideal.

risked.

"This is the lion that was injured by the gladiator in the shadows above. Now moans because it hurts his wound and his majesty defeated.

He frowns because not bear to lose two of two. With anger blows out the candles so that I do not see your pride and pleasure in the midst of absolute darkness challenges me:

- Now do you see?

I stared at the wall invaded the blackness of the non-light and no doubt.

"This is you.

Inventing the curious theories about mixed feelings back to light the candles (means you need some light if you want to hide) and without looking be looking for people that instead of heroic gladiators and lions look injured rabbits or doves or butterflies, and when the fire goes out of his sails in a sign of vulnerability honestísima, rather than see him see nothing.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Cheap Commercial Rabbit Supplies

Men are from Mars

was not appendicitis.

"Congratulations, a ... eh ... "Man? "Said the doctor as he held more professional than the bicharrajo viscous tenderness he had taken from my body.

The arena whined, belching and calling me Mom . I looked and remembered: a few months ago he had met a man. I think it was a man, was green and invited me to spend a night in their spaceship. Very comfortable, the ship. And the "man? making intelligent comments, was funny and was good. The color did not matter, I was never racist. Then I got off the ship (I had a fluffy pouf was re divinura), I went home, and I guess he went back to Mars. I think it was from Mars, that of "men are from Mars, Women Are from Venus." Can not, was able to saturnine, lunatic or Neptune. Stranger safety.

The issue is that my son has no father, and the green man of my life I know you have a child. I tell him that looks just like him: green and long limbs. I took it slimy, sticky me. And I want to claim the alimony, our offspring eat two dozen pies and a gallon of gasoline only at breakfast. Does anyone know when is the next flight to Mars? Oh, no flights to Mars? How can it be? A separate family more because of the bureaucracy. This country can not live. No, not in this country in this world can not live. No wonder he did not return. If this world is a mess: Obama is Nobel Peace Prize and there are no flights to Mars.

I'ma grab the telescope and see if I see him.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

New Business Press Release

old walnut wood

And victory will grow slowly, as they have always grown victories (Mario Benedetti).

Not that death is a victory, not about that. I can not see death as a victory. Not that I cry like the cry the people, I was never a fan of Mercedes Sosa, but that's not what matters. I do not mind no matter its people, at least not in this timely text.

Victory is the time. Is the water that ran under the bridge, is the rain that drenched everything from at Sabina sings, that rain today. The victory is his strength, consistency in his speech as always, the sense of freedom leaving and left. Sing what you can not sing is a clear example of freedom. Ovarian well positioned and freedom. Being exiled, be expelled, be threatened, to sing what can not sing it, it sounds strange, another clear example of freedom. I imagine she must have the option to withdraw, to sing songs harmless, to be photographed smiling next to the tyrants in power, to get into the shell of non-questioning, never say I do not agree, have had all these options I imagine, and not used. What I used was their right, their reckless right, singing things like give thanks to misfortune and hand with dagger because it killed me so bad and I kept singing, for example. And they used when the rights were a distant dream, a cause for pain, when words were, more than ever, double-edged swords, kill you (unfair and definitely not as bad as the knife hand with the song ) or you exiled. And the exile, and guess who was exiled (humans, not the words) also thought it was final, the victory was theirs, that time could not bring defeat. Because time is victory, but it was not for them.

They now must be as old like her, so physically weak as her, so close to death (which is not victory, and safe start to understand it) as it was it must consider the charge of the world and should not understand. Or better yet (my optimism and my naivete are tough), they do understand. Should see the tears of all, the cry of all, tear all the homage and praise of all. Should note that more than a remote and alien places his death, she died as a cover story, and should listen to the people (artists, anonymous, presidents in democracy) mourn his death, and that seems sincere regret. And also see that many use her death, her death as something from which it hung. And that (Do not know if they will get) is also the victory. Because it was taboo, and now is pride.

And she is dead but victorious. And they are alive but old, weak and dying, perhaps begin to understand.