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These are the books I've read this year, which should be whipped.

39. Matador: New Peruvian writer. December 1922.
40. Stories. ETA Hoffmann. December 1926.

not recommend the first. Masturbation pump is available only to Wildean archetypes. Course is now allowed.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS !
who offends no happiness.

I leave it to Billy Bilo. Because

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I get to spit running out of air freshener. The month I ran out I spent an ass of deodorants.

Have you noticed that the role of cigarettes can be used as clothing? Ni cagando

reluctant to be worn as clothing.
boots
When the smoke look like a very old turtle. Watch as you move your head.

The best writers never write the "ja ja ja." They just say 'these idiots ... they looked and laughed. " O 'Socrates smiled. "

O sing songs Libertines.

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The bands that played weren’t terrible.

Morrie and I were at the park, where we were supposed to make a transaction. But things went awry, at first nobody answered and then we missed three calls, so we called Peanut ma’ boy, who’d surely have something.

He did.

But he was already there, with M. and her boyfriend, and we had to run if we wanted much of anything. I had thirty Peruvian soles on me – souls , if you allow me to misspeak, which had to last me the evening. Now this was possible. The gods had fought against me, and now for me. Yet I never said a prayer. Things had turned for the better as they were and I wanted all the joys for myself: they had enough as it was, and I wasn\u0026amp; rsquo; t about to grovel. Fortuna not was treacherous, Merely fickle, and one thing I HAD WAS Learned That Were not perfect gods.

We Took A Bus, Then What felt WAS Walk for three years. The cracked pavement and the street WAS long. There Were signs plastered on the walls, on the road, Showing us the way like a proverbial yellow brick road, and we Followed it, Perhaps slowly, with the sun warming Our Faces. I felt dapper, I had a coat, and Did not like it one bit. It remind me I Was Still Here, But Already That WAS my mind of Alfred Mansfield, the pulp writer. Reality flicker and blurred, feeling all the more disjointed, paradoxical.

It Was the brain Who Made the leap. The body did not. I Took note of this.

M. Was the first person II was jumbling words. I didn’t truly care about the money and thought myself a saint, a mix of Saints Denis and Sebastian.)

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I Barely Knew Ye.

But when I'm drunk I can not stop Saying I love you, man.

And I'm always drunk.

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So we’d gather and smoke in front of our former school, where we peddled drugs to the older students. The tunes we played were urbane yet mediocre – it happened that everything in town was subpar. But we were satisfied with whatever damaged goods we got, and so were they, and nobody felt they had lost.

Smoking made me frail and dismissive. Yet I also grew more attentive to what was happening, to people and their intentions. Intrigues between friends grew to near political proportion. There was always some sort of disagreement about women or money or books. I must say few noticed it with ears and eyes, but the fights sure made a racket.

There were little gestures or tics we could observe: how they looked sideways, spoke quietly and passed it around slowly. Such Were the Times. WAS dark night, But day WAS Bleaker. Some of us we'd Had Become dealers Already Noticed, Not doctors. Business boomer, But we never Healed anybody. And healing

Had Been Our duty from the start, if I dare say so. What is the use of a Missionary poet, if I never Helps a soul? Were we supposed to Aid Them. Not a particular 'theme', But whoever cross Happened to Our Way. And They Came in packs, pero away we sat Them, and Their They Treated us like enemies. I guess we

Our Had earned fame. We Were clear as to What we did do, pero, and we never lied or swindle. Those Were the Days When one tried to Actually Be honorable and managed to. Those days, too, Have Passed, But It Is Enough To Have Lived Them to Understand Their Meaning.

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Would I say, Peter Doherty'sa poet. A decadent, a thinker and a Blithe Spirit.

I Was Certain of His impending death, a creeping scene guided by the baser impulses, unpreventable. It Was So we made the best of What We Had MOST left with him, and Have him sing, write, or speak. Whatever

I liked, as long as it left us something, and we Would Be happy. It secured

The Possibility of Remembering him, in the future, as Though I Were Some philosopher or prophet or saint.

And I WAS.

For, somehow, I pulled through. Through what, I do not know, But It Must Have Been close to everything. Nevertheless I insisted on Those Socratic, insolent airs Had That put him in trouble with

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When was the last I took heroin?

Well, I would never…!

Six-foot-small has been asking things only a mother would ask. He looks at me in mock-worry and raises a single finger.

Have you been doing herowin?

What , I say, but he prattles on.

Is that why you’ve got your arms all covered? It ain’t that chilly no more.

He furrows his brow and spits like an old woman.

You must be coming down hard – not having much fun, are we? Here, pass me the spliff , the spliff is passed to him and he takes a long drag.

Then he hands it to me, and I thi

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HTMLXC I could not expect more from the Internet. It might be of use for things already considered unimportant, but that is its extent. It doesn't feed the soul. Some forget that it is, too, a machine. Man belongs not in the hive or the anthill, but with other men. Make of that what most pleases you. I am to run an errand tomorrow. Maripric and a friend will be there, which is always nice, though I must first check how much money I have on me. It is never much, but there are such events in life we perceive as miracles. Whatever happens, we will be celebrating the premature death of my youth and vitality. My veins are laden with rust and I am most contented. That is what age means.
I saw Morrie two days ago. He was better than I remembered. I suspect he has

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Evidently, this is a list. I Have Not Been making good use of my time and no, I Have Not Been writing a novel. And yes, I Have Been Exposed To Regularly Apollonian beauty.

1. All Souls. Javier Marias. January 3.
2. The Vampyre. John William Polidori. January 7.
3. Poems in Prose. Oscar Wilde. January 12.
4. Fictions. Jorge Luis Borges. January 16.
5. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Junot Diaz. January 18. Pachamama
6. Club: Anthology brichero story. January 25. Introduction
7. English literature. The Curious Incident
HTMLXC of the Dog in the Night-tim e.
8. Mark Haddon. July 11.
The Music of Chance.
9. Paul Auster. July 15.
Slaughterhouse-Five.
10. Kurt Vonnegut. July 20.
Island.
11. Aldous Huxley.
Bullet Park.
12. John Cheever.
Phaedrus.
13. Plato.
Main.
14. Plato.
Phaedo.
15. Plato.
The Republic.
16. Plato. November 28.
Brave New World Revisited.
17. Aldous Huxley. December 5.
Classic comic: Lucky Luke.
18. Morris, Goscinny. December20.
The Adventures of Augie March.
19. Saul Bellow. December 20.
Matador: New Peruvian writer.
20. December 22.
Stories.
21. ETA Hoffmann. December 26.

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knows that the sea means a lot, even more than memories and nostalgia. The sea means life and he is small before it, but if you live with enough fervor may be the sea that you remember him when he is gone. Perhaps Peru could be memory and part of its immensity.


Title: Pacific II: loneliness
Characters: Japan (Kiku), Peru (Miguel)
Rating:

G Warnings: None .

Historical (gaspu):
I refer to the arrival of the first immigrantsJapan to Peru in 1899. 1800 was a century of change for most American wars for independence (proclaimed himself in Peru 21), but it was for Japan. During the 60s, Japan came out on the stage of total closure had meant the Tokugawa shogunate and opened abroad. In this new era, called Meiji, Japanese immigration began around the world, most of which was of poor peasants seeking work to take care of my family members who remained in Japanese territory.

If you wonder why Japanandthe Per & uacute, in particular, is because the Japanese colony in Peru is very large and important. Peru and Japan have very good relationships and great cultural exchange to date.
And after tl, dr ...




is the same sea, but the feeling is not the same. Japan notes
Pacific
rocking on the horizon, sitting on the beaches of Lima, and can not avoid the sound of the waves will bring a sense of melancholy to the chest. It's been a couple of decades since it opened its doors to the world, and has since traveled extensively with his people, looking for new homes in which some mayNo thoughts, do not realize the steps that come to him until someone speaks.
- You're thinking of something sad.
Japan gives a start, but soon recognized the voice as that of its host.
- Ah, young Peru says as he walks on the sand towards him -. I would not say something sad. Just something ... away. Peru
nods and sits next to the larger nation, facing the sea with a vacant expression. Japan wonders whether it was also so obvious when I was young, the difference between the eyesOltean to see him, surprised, and for a moment, his eyes become young again. Sonríey Then, for some reason, Japan is giving himself a discreet smile back.
- When you begin the new century, "says Peru while stops and shakes a little sand-pants be friends again. Peru
lend a hand to help him up and it is Japan that now seems surprised at the gesture. There have been many years away from a world that changed and expanded without him, many years away. But it is foolish to forget, he realizes that is not the & uacute, unique fighting to carve out a place in it. - would be a pleasure, young Peru. It would be a pleasure.
While taking her hand and gets up, thinks the world is wide, but after all, perhaps not everything is so foreign. For the first time, watch the waves of the Pacific and, realizing that it is the same sea, feels good about it.

final note: "The world is wide and removed" is the title of a novel by Peruvian writer Ciro Alegría. ... Forgive me from the grave the use and abuse of the term.



AND THAT'S ALL, orz. Go &

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Someone like Tamerlane, or Genghis, or Saladin.

Usually I pick a delicate 'tellectual for this sort of question. But the truth is people like Oscar Wilde find pleasure in idleness. As do I, and the present context Requires That I rid myself of improductivity. A poet or a philosopher Would only hinder the Attempt.

I am not meant to to work in factories. Hopefully, an extended education will keep me from this fate. The requirement is not dropping out. That I can manage. Academia happens to be the quickest path to worthwhile knowledge. The way taken is logical, congruent with the principle of knowledge as the greatest good and I am okay with that.

Meanwhile, it is imperative that I convince someone of Dubai's superiority in regard to the tourism industry. And then they will take me, because I have said so and it has been written. I am such a child. But in my defense, it would take years or decades for us to stop being so conspicuously, unrepentantly poor and we can book a flight to a country that sells gold in vending machines.

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Lebedev M. Grew the beard of a villain. Whenever I felt Particularly pleased with Himself, He Would dip His head and tug at His chin. He Was set on Luciferian and noble Appearing at once: More Than a fashionable attitude in the Higher Circles, I imagine.

Some Say That Would it work. Others, That I have succeeded in pretension.

But all in all, the Little Prince WAS Knowing and vile, crooked unmistakeable as child of king or crooked line, heir to an untrimmed tree That, in a world Ruled by Reason, Would Be Better STI Uprooted in Entirety.

But This Was Fiction, and Fiction is Dominated by Its Own logic. Thus, it WAS reasonable Lebedev That Be allowed to live as word and symbol, if little else.

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The Myers-Briggs test can eat this. It does not explain how to be a person, whichever it was, but how we perceived. One tends to autoidealizarse. No problem with that, but would award a gross scientific importance unless it was to study self-perception itself.

INTP - "Architect." Greatest precision in thought and language. Can readily discernible Contradictions and inconsistencies. The world exists to Be Primarily understood. 3.3% of Total Population.

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Enneagram Test Results C 86% Your main type is 8 Your variant is Take Free Enneagram Personality Test personality tests by similarminds.com Objective test my balls. I do not like Sundays. I have two options: a) Anyone can write a book, by which I meana carton with the word LITERATURE is not at all necessary. It would be counterproductive to focus so much time, energíay money on something that I imagine will happen anyway. Or maybe it that people (ie family, friends, personae non gratae in general) has a very high opinion of me. Such faith, as you have in the gods, is unforgivable. write little and not very well. The explanation is this: my prose is vitriolic, my use and abuse of symbolism is an irritant, and my knowledge of the Castilian language is, at best, incomplete. Would be fine with that, if it does not appear every time a non-qualifying Sunday, September 19, 2010 Make Wedding Programs Using Microsoft Wells and legalación [sic] XC 2. If you could only keep a book of Oscar Wilde, what would it be? If you were in fact able to carry only one (1) book, it is most likely not charge anyone. Phrases and Philosophies would print for the Use of the Young , which is concentrated Wilde and covers about two (2) faces, the equivalent of one (1) sheet. It is the sense of survival through the space economy. The question sounds like the Holocaust. 3. Why would you be arrested? First, I would not be arrested. But if you necessarily have to go, I'd sayfor indecent exposure (sic). Do not hurt anyone, and if someone comes to me that damages the psyche of children can go to hell. Nudity is the natural state of man. 4. What is the weirdest thing you yelled at a stranger on the street? I have never yelled at me. But there was a day sheet Maripric abused and thought that when I was crouched on the floor, I had become so Pequena had fallen down a hole. Invisible took a rope and threw it well, was screaming. Shouted from a car that was drugged. Lo andStaba. Fig. 2. - Possibly the EMEP hallucinating. 5. Have you entered the men's room out of curiosity? was in and out as if nothing at school. Then write about yesterday and do the meme likesugarcube . In time I have some kind of ennui. Boredom is a powerful entity. Overcome it is unlikely, but possible. Maxwell's demon defies the second law of thermodynamics. It is not known whether the lamprey should be considered a fish. The platypus is poisonous. The lenses of Kim Jong-i Thursday, April 1, 2010 Why Does My Sore Throat Hurt More At Night Author: Hakuchou Publication Date: April 1, 2010 Milo went downstairs again quite quickly and opened the door. "... Athena?" Sahori spoke softly, a very notable contrast to the previous minutes where he had been shouting his name. "I can go?" Milo felt chills and looked at one side of it to see if it was accompanied or alone. There was a black car parked at the curb, she noticed that only the driver came with her familya. Something in him snapped a little. He nodded and stepped aside to let her pass. "Forward." Sahori looked like a princess, always so delicate and so thin, always so elegant and noble ... Milo felt bad that God was in that house so dirty and cold and was finally home, but still felt sorry. Sahori walked into the kitchen, where there was a bar in the center that served as breakfast, and sat in one of the top banks, Milo thought he would sit in the room, seeing would not be so, andmp; iacute; to go? Milo asked immediately changed suddenly, "How did you know, who told him?" As if he had revealed the secret in the history of mankind. Sahori blinked. "It was to get you to your sanctuary and did not find you." as simple as that. So after all Camus had gone to look after the altercation with the armor ... I do not understand why your mind never thought about the fact that happened, did not notice the fact that might have gone to look for to tell him what they had was impossibletime you gave to my care and my welfare, you are a great item that will be hard to replace and do not forget to always have a special place in my memories and in my mind. "Her last words sounded as a farewell, Milo felt a huge lump in the throat, had tears threatening her pupils. Sahori rose from his chair and pulled out a plastic card from his jacket pocket and put it on the table, "Here are a monthly cash amount to help you be in the real world ... no expiration date, or any kind of constraint ó No. "She looked into his eyes again and concluded," Camus is a great man ... I understand. " I understand the last words she would hear of his goddess, that figure for which he trained and fought many times. Sahori When he started walking toward the exit, Milo called by name, the first time he did since he knew, "Sahori?" She turned around, " Yes? "Milo bowed, leaning forward, leave with respect, saying adi & amp; oacute; s welcome you at the same time, and with this movement slipped the tears from her eyes. Said in a whisper that she probably did not hear, "Take care of Camus." * Sahori and Milo went back to bed. He could not go back to sleep, even thought Sahori's visit was a dream. * The hours passed and suddenly noticed that the morning began to clarify. The window of his room he let the first rays of sun. He thought about what would be the first thing he would do his routine at the sanctuary was up while joggingabout two hours and return for a light breakfast. Today did not want to run. Did not feel like eating anything. Did not feel like getting up. He felt tired, had not slept at all, had been too much excitement, the only thing that came to mind was taking a BATHING back to bed, had much to think, I had ; to make a plan and decide what he would do from now on. With a sigh he got up and walked to the door of the room, had to find the bathroom. * After finding the bathroom down the hall, a Hook Two Battery Chargers Together Chapter 2: And sometimes my skin is crying Author: Hakuchou Released n : April 1, 2010 was not so complicated after all. Milo had returned to his sanctuary with the heart beating at 1200 per hour. Down to the sanctuary he had felt like walking into infinity. In the vision before his eyes saw only ladders and stairs which descend and eventually felt the urgent need to stop for a second to breathe, but did not. He had done until he reached the end its sanctuary and walked through the door. CHTM would not wonder if doing the right thing, would not ask if it was not hasty in making the decision, all I knew was that pertenecíaa no longer there, that it was unwise to be among the other knights. * And the only place he could think of was to flee the house of their biological parents, which never knew a lot. Had only vague memories of their childhood, their parents, their home. At some point these memories have become fuzzy, had trouble finding them in his brain, as if they had existed but was stupid to think because of algchildhood, there was a likelihood that their parents had changed the locks or someone else would have, but by introducing the key into the lock, the door opened immediately. * Everything felt unreal, as if dreaming. She felt dizzy from the smell of old-age home, the air felt heavy, dirty, congested. The wooden floor creaked when you were about to step on it. The furniture was covered with white sheets. stood still for a few minutes, adjusting to the environment, enjoying the atmosphere they breathed, realizing the atmosphere of the place. He was in shock, as if eUART, where small sleeping ... what would have happened if it had followed the course schedule? That is, having a family, sleep, study, get in the evenings at this home, live in the ordinary world ... What would your life if I had not met Camus? * went upstairs and deeply felt suddenly tired. Since I was out of the twelve houses had not stopped walking, when the last step he felt fatigued, had never felt so exhausted. With much effort took a few steps to get to the LEFT side roomBEI, which used to be his room. not even notice the room that had entered, would not look at the details, in the few memories, just removed the white sheet on the bed and lay on the bedspread n. just wanted to sleep and forget that his life had changed and was not sure if it was for good. * never know how long it has been asleep all this way to leave his sanctuary and seemed to get to that bed for days, when perhaps only a matter of hours had been . Wednesday, February 10, 2010 Blood Pressure Mottled Skin Sevilla I do not know. It happens to many of my compatriots, especially young people. One day they arrive and can no longer go. Are left playing guitar, drawing on the streets. Manage their lives, looked thoughtfully at the rectangle formed by the sun on the floor beside the door. There is something about the light, the color of the streets, you will pollute. Like falling ill. Spain, the south, the old culture of Mediterranean Europe, could only be sensed from places like this. Seville was an overlap of stories, links about impossible to explain without ot Subscribe to: Comments (Atom) Blog Archive ►  2011 (2) ►  January (2) ▼  2010 (17) ▼  December (9) Letter Community Service Font Generator Tattoo The truth Best Red Dot Sight For X7 Xepisodes Not Working On Ipod Extra Skin Meat Tag On Dog How Much Canada Trust Charge For Money Order Us Driver License Templates 2010 Mid-winter Lines ... Quirky 50th Birthday Party Invitation Wording Inmate Search Dupage County Jail Books Read in 2010 ►  November (1) How Much Does 3-d Imax Cost At Silvercity Ottawa ►  October (2) Dark Brown Almost Black Stools Writer's Block: On ... 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