I Need A Messy Punishment

not talk about politics

do not do it, it becomes only a starting point for thinking about this ... and yet we like.

This morning I read a newspaper article written by the usual "socio-political analyst" that infest our media, a figure halfway between a journalist and a dowser looking for a source, albeit uncertain and artificial, of truth, before which escapes, breaking his stick.

Usually this character simply move back and forth within the area of \u200b\u200bdesert that has been assigned, the rakes, freeing him from the dead roots of the theories of his colleagues, the grooves filled with doubt, of course, implicit (not taking too much risk) and then seeding sand words to read and predictable general accusations and rhetoric, which are mixed into each other, leaving the reader in constant expectation of a flowering of ideas that have never existed.

Also the article I read this morning has not won truth to the reader, merely to summarize the main shortcomings of our political system: continuity, consistency, competence, reliability and last but not in fundo "wants to do."

Every Italian citizen, you will be focused, at least once on the same points. In discussions postprandial Sunday, during which a cigarette between his fingers and cup of coffee in hand, we all feel more capable and confident about our policy, dictating to our neighbor across the table, too full of food for dissent, the recipe to view to future generations a better Italy.

the same city, in front of this article will have sighed, saying to himself: "See, I said it yesterday: want to do, this is what is missing. "

will then folded the paper, thinking that he would rather avoid going to work, as has been pleasantly renounced his complicated family the loan, the line of school children, the scolding of the head, the races that is continually do to make ends meet, trying to please everyone, except himself.

And then our citizens will be angry, thinking about the blue car, to secret accounts in the Cayman Islands, with escort, to the feasts, the covenants to maintain chair and forget about the people, while the country slides down and nobody, not even our city, has more desire to do .

Upcoming Wii Channels 2010

A word, a verse - fourteenth: collect

collect (front and poet. Raccòrre) v. tr. [Der. to grasp, with pref. ra-] (coniug. how to capture). - 1. Lift, pick up or return from the ground or anything 2.a. Put together, gather, collect: r. money, mite, documents, quotes, examples, topics, news, hints, r. men, soldiers, comrades; b. capture, concentrate in a 3. Bringing together the parts of something wider, open or lying, then tighten together, fold: r. wings, legs, body, sails, rigging, nets. Fig: r. forces, thoughts, r. the mind, concentrate on a thought, in meditation.

That 's what often makes a writer picks up the word.

Nadine Gordimer, who, with his inseparable notebook runs in the South African bush to breathe clouds and words, choosing the most valuable to collect waiting for arrivals, the best in history where plant them and only then, with a little 'melancholy, let them go.

Haruki Murakami, author of the graceful nuances, which can glide with your fingers as a child on the emotions most inaccessible, extending the plan, we see him leaning on the white page waiting to spring forth the will of the people, then collects in small sentences, which remain stranded in his dialogues, as in a jammed roller of an old movie that we can no longer see, even though we love it, goes off immediately because the bitter memory.

Michael Cunningham, who finally breaks down families want to understand, give the reader, caught up in thoughts sharp. They make fun of words and collect, stacked one upon the other, waiting for the reaction of a character who never comes.

Ian McEwan, which defies time, sliced \u200b\u200binto precise words that collects around the character, a pyre ready to catch fire at the stroke of the will of the author.

Collect words, yet never enough.

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words ... Looking for "roads" by Enrico Remmert

Victor, Frank and Manu: the narrative voices of a journey from Turin to Bari in the company of "Baroness", an old Fiat Punto stolen at a driving school, a car with double pedals, to make it clear now that the story that peek between the lines of this edition of the book by Enrico Remmert Marsilio "roads" will have more of a guide.

Three fragments of the same soul will look angry all the way, alternating their points of view and their version of history for a route which is to Bari, but it could be to Timbuktu. Almost a world tour of several worlds, if you add up the many breaks in the spirit, the sudden acceleration of desires, faults and clashes of the words of reason. To everything there is as if you were tossed into that point, caught between Vittorio and Francesca, those no longer engaged, although neither has indicated his choice to another. A guide and lead us in this rambling trips that pass by the Po valley, you will dive Adriatic and make us jump from the Marche to Puglia, here "Manu" in its apparent simplicity: the friend, confidante, much closer to Victor that Francesca and then formally friends with it. Our Cicero will be chased by a young man far beyond the stereotype of the owner of big dogs, huge car driver and owner of oversized egos. Probably an excuse to escape, away from themselves, to be revealed at the end of the journey still there, more distant from each other, even through the sharing of some small gaps of time and judging that, perhaps, worth a life.

The final moves, you probably do not want to do and although in some passages the reader might expect a surprise narrative (which is not), it remains an interesting book.

I must point out the scene where Victor plays the cello in the snow, surrounded by mountains of salt "as tall as buildings." My mind has fled to some of the images on film Baricco Beethoven (Lesson 21), who knows if Remmert was inspired by the miracle of ways. We'd love to know ...

Good reading.

Groping And Touching In The Buses And Trains

A word, a verse - thirteenth: separate

see separate tr. [From Lat. separate, comp. se-"apart" and parry "make, prepare"]

1. to . Divide, separate persons or things close or adjacent, mixed, physically or spiritually united; b . Distinguishing , sceverare: s. the good from the bad; c . With reference to the dispute, in which people fight, get in the middle between them, to stop a quarrel or a fight; 2. ant. Stop, to end : a brother and a friendship sprang up between them so great them, then never be another case that was not separate from death (Boccaccio). 3. refl. Divide, break away, get away from people to whom it was related interests, ideas, feelings and activities.

from family, friends, themselves. I start with the meaning proposed by the third word of this week, the reflective, the selfish: "separate". Very often a synonym for legitimate, true. Parting from the socio there includes the company that we do not appreciate, comrade that sustains us, friends who do not listen to us. Parting from the mistakes that continue to make, in the hope that they become someone else and looking back, a few steps ahead, you can say, "How can you be so stupid?".

feel victorious because they are alone, not dependent on other human beings, but in need of their addiction. So that it can be said to be bound, controlled, directed and begin to separate .

Immersed in this loop emotional try to listen without ears have more available.