tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36119689487614409822024-02-19T22:30:44.696-08:00...With Purity and Rage..I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-19841026694511393252010-03-25T14:16:00.001-07:002010-03-25T14:24:59.714-07:00# 83<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi87pFzl_D-kIrNlN5E43W6O3cymf2FLuSgSNysnGoo8SHIRMRG6y6R2jynhxX_PjA_AIY-q2gADdXxTRP0cTkIFUJLyCjw-vFAN_OpfBzU12BCQBiz2eCIM6WmimqnGd7rh1x1sNtdM_/s1600/teenspirit1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452683557368009474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi87pFzl_D-kIrNlN5E43W6O3cymf2FLuSgSNysnGoo8SHIRMRG6y6R2jynhxX_PjA_AIY-q2gADdXxTRP0cTkIFUJLyCjw-vFAN_OpfBzU12BCQBiz2eCIM6WmimqnGd7rh1x1sNtdM_/s400/teenspirit1.jpg" /></a> Non è una cosa tipica. Misty non è un' ubriacona.</div><div align="center">Casomai bisognasse ribadirlo</div><div align="center">lei è sottoposta ad un sacco di stress.</div><div align="center">Quarantuno cazzo di anni, e adesso non ha più </div><div align="center">un marito. Niente laurea.</div><div align="center">Nessuna esperienza di lavoro degna di questo nome</div><div align="center">se non scrostare i cessi..fare collanine di mirtilli</div><div align="center">per l'albero di natale dei Wilmot..</div><div align="center">Quello che ha sono una figlia e una suocera da mantenere.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Per la cronaca, il tempo previsto per oggi è sbronza </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">parziale con occasionali rovesci di disperazione e fastidio))</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">_ <strong>C. Palahniuk</strong> _ Diary_<br /></span></em></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-70561078032189428462009-12-16T05:04:00.001-08:002009-12-16T05:21:44.497-08:00# 82<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhKyE3zvcxWeQwXVI6GX6QVaRzfmC1Zy5SdOLqoJAj_Ycv-NC52RChDS9zeb7M6XSbPeWGke-a8ye3BCDQD7431fNaEqGzYfeMTcA7KHAGUnBxDU_t3D3DA4L1h0vwnEr1MuSGE8T4TPp/s1600-h/unseen-guy-bourdin-exhibition-00.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 279px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415819299827033410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhKyE3zvcxWeQwXVI6GX6QVaRzfmC1Zy5SdOLqoJAj_Ycv-NC52RChDS9zeb7M6XSbPeWGke-a8ye3BCDQD7431fNaEqGzYfeMTcA7KHAGUnBxDU_t3D3DA4L1h0vwnEr1MuSGE8T4TPp/s400/unseen-guy-bourdin-exhibition-00.jpg" /></a> Felicità allo stato puro, bruta, primitiva, vulcanica.</div><div align="center">Magnifico. Il meglio del meglio.</div><div align="center">Meglio della droga, dell'eroina, meglio delle canne</div><div align="center">coca crack fix joint shith shuz sniff pet</div><div align="center">marjuana cannabis peote colla acido LSD extasy.</div><div align="center">Meglio del sesso, meglio del pompino, il 69, </div><div align="center">orge masturbazione tantrismo</div><div align="center">kamasutra massaggio thailandese.</div><div align="center">Meglio della cioccolata, il mont blanc, </div><div align="center">banana splint.</div><div align="center">Meglio di tutte le trilogie di George Lucas, </div><div align="center">delle puntate del Muppet Show.</div><div align="center">Meglio dell'ancheggiare di Emma, Marylin, </div><div align="center">la puffetta,Lara Croft, Naomi Campbell, </div><div align="center">i nei di Cindy Crawford.</div><div align="center">Meglio della facciata B di Abbey Road,</div><div align="center">gli assoli di Hendrix.</div><div align="center">Meglio dei passetti di Armstrong sulla luna,</div><div align="center">le montagne russe, i festoni natalizi,</div><div align="center">la fortuna di Bill Gates,le trance del Dalailama, </div><div align="center">la ressurezione di Lazzaro, </div><div align="center">tutte le pere di testosterone di Schwartz,</div><div align="center">il collagene nelle labbra di Pamela Anderson.</div><div align="center">Meglio di Woodstock e dei rave party più trasgressivi, </div><div align="center">meglio dei trip di Sad, Rainbow, Morrison e Castaneda.</div><div align="center">Meglio della libertà...meglio della Vita!</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( se ci tieni dimostralo...giochi o non giochi? ))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">- Amami se hai il coraggio -</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-33943612374646004272009-11-20T15:52:00.003-08:002009-11-20T16:04:04.614-08:00# 81<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XbUVppXSZrJMpHm_zEKLiwj7nzPVDo-ekVGmiQ8q6kIeple4wYCnzwTkeDcMHsM-p0JsmejILuvZvpg0fx0V3KdlGh7J-x1672VjwEdchOrSGXf_6WuKYr4k7qxba8n2G9N6U-E6hpkw/s1600/42312556.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406338360062721346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XbUVppXSZrJMpHm_zEKLiwj7nzPVDo-ekVGmiQ8q6kIeple4wYCnzwTkeDcMHsM-p0JsmejILuvZvpg0fx0V3KdlGh7J-x1672VjwEdchOrSGXf_6WuKYr4k7qxba8n2G9N6U-E6hpkw/s400/42312556.jpg" /></a> E' difficile stare arrabiati </div><div align="center">quando c'è tanta bellezza nel mondo. </div><div align="center">A volte è come </div><div align="center">se la vedessi tutta insieme...ed è troppa.</div><div align="center">Il cuore mi si riempie come un palloncino</div><div align="center">che sta per scoppiare e poi mi ricordo di</div><div align="center">rilassarmi e smetto di cercare di tenermela</div><div align="center">stretta, dopo scorre attraverso me come</div><div align="center">pioggia e io non posso provare altro che </div><div align="center">gratitudine..per ogni singolo momento della</div><div align="center">mia stupida piccola vita.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Oggi è il primo dei giorni che ti resta da vivere))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">- American Beauty-</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="right"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-38894670144049624822009-09-10T03:37:00.000-07:002009-09-14T09:45:19.773-07:00# 80<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bxabkqUCSZjzRIHFeRsbsvgUm8dnzn3DQ9m8yxRqjhlSHPDsZ0LpvBQdql0_Awyexr42cF4CnUq6jkjfAcoom_GYWiiFaWR534j1cOI-iMBKUfsB_Vg3ks9zPgqJdApM5ey85XsZbl1F/s1600-h/o.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379786294535690562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bxabkqUCSZjzRIHFeRsbsvgUm8dnzn3DQ9m8yxRqjhlSHPDsZ0LpvBQdql0_Awyexr42cF4CnUq6jkjfAcoom_GYWiiFaWR534j1cOI-iMBKUfsB_Vg3ks9zPgqJdApM5ey85XsZbl1F/s400/o.jpg" border="0" /></a> Quella situazione, immaginavo,</div><div align="center">le confermava la sua purezza,</div><div align="center">ed era un' ulteriore prova del suo stoicismo,</div><div align="center">del fatto che vedesse la propria vita</div><div align="center">come una specie di ideale di cui essere all'altezza.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Avete deciso se sono pazza?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">Preferiamo non usare questa parola))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"></span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>M. Greenberg</strong> - Il giorno in cui mia figlia impazzì -</span></em></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-5256395183569155952009-05-25T09:44:00.000-07:002009-05-25T09:52:44.148-07:00# 79<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ge14UuoWRYgZP_kHR-AsXHW2nMLfkuPiQeezb2z9G0l3d2sIHIoYBF60B5KKxdFanRpWgxsV7q_1-N-Vx_to5a0iUjznAK1uW64bkMc3VLZWiOU9AQq9UAauxzEN8RP5G1-8CYwBIGXF/s1600-h/dita.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339803774010846354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ge14UuoWRYgZP_kHR-AsXHW2nMLfkuPiQeezb2z9G0l3d2sIHIoYBF60B5KKxdFanRpWgxsV7q_1-N-Vx_to5a0iUjznAK1uW64bkMc3VLZWiOU9AQq9UAauxzEN8RP5G1-8CYwBIGXF/s400/dita.bmp" border="0" /></a> Prendi il controllo delle tue emozioni</div><div align="center">fatti un giro in un piacere sconosciuto</div><div align="center">sentiti come un bambino in una notte buia</div><div align="center">che spera ci sia un qualche tipo di paradiso.</div><div align="center">Potrei essere dolce con te sorridendo</div><div align="center">tenendo la tua mano per un attimo.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">((ho il più strano vuoto di te))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Culture Club</strong> - Victim</span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span> </div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-20821350359313878022009-05-12T12:34:00.000-07:002009-05-12T12:51:49.250-07:00# 78<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MCNJq8wLRUuVUHVIURnd1Bv1WOQOVdxk2Z0wfPSMOGueq1S1Ql5Xby5Qolow2GO3YjQuO2UR0XjGpPLvs7EiiR9gcsz67SfaC4hES2E47dSWU1WbMvLxmHZYiz7HFPgPw7X2kS7W-3pn/s1600-h/6ar166w.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335025270995440562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MCNJq8wLRUuVUHVIURnd1Bv1WOQOVdxk2Z0wfPSMOGueq1S1Ql5Xby5Qolow2GO3YjQuO2UR0XjGpPLvs7EiiR9gcsz67SfaC4hES2E47dSWU1WbMvLxmHZYiz7HFPgPw7X2kS7W-3pn/s400/6ar166w.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"> Solo le domande più ingenue sono veramente serie.</div><div align="center">Sono domande per le quali non esiste una risposta.</div><div align="center">Una domanda per cui non esiste una risposta </div><div align="center">è una barriera oltre la quale non è possibile andare.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( La vicinanza può dare la vertigine?))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>- <strong>Milan Kundera</strong> - L'insostenibile leggerezza dell'essere -<br /></em></span></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-20054965258010345722009-04-08T11:51:00.001-07:002009-04-08T12:02:12.389-07:00# 77<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwlB4hdDUexAUSdqXmt4vW8xX1FuxE6nviSypnG8az5S6EtXVA2_ezaxqFvaDHS5_WSc3WQ1H0p08c6-7gHcmAHF8mSO0kL4f9lYfy9dVR8yQrvhEehaObSEGBf4vW7rGMhAYSNfJ-LrD/s1600-h/madebelievens2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322395459916717058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwlB4hdDUexAUSdqXmt4vW8xX1FuxE6nviSypnG8az5S6EtXVA2_ezaxqFvaDHS5_WSc3WQ1H0p08c6-7gHcmAHF8mSO0kL4f9lYfy9dVR8yQrvhEehaObSEGBf4vW7rGMhAYSNfJ-LrD/s400/madebelievens2.jpg" border="0" /></a> L' unico problema era il cosidetto - così lo chiamava il mostro-</div><div align="center">" Paradosso di Giulietta":</div><div align="center">non mi importava per quanto tempo lui fosse disposto a</div><div align="center">restare al telefono come, quanto spesso prendesse</div><div align="center">il treno per vedermi, quanto dicesse di amarmi;</div><div align="center">io trovavo sempre il modo di farlo sembrare ridicolmente poco.</div><div align="center">Chiunque mi desiderasse e amasse veramente</div><div align="center">e volesse soddisfare in tutto e per tutto i mie desideri</div><div align="center">finiva rapidamente per morire di inedia andando dietro</div><div align="center">le mie divagazioni, alle mie richieste, al mio narcisimo.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( In altre parole l'unico ruolo sentimentale che puoi felicemente</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">ricoprire è quello della vedova.))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>Pulsatilla</strong> - Giulietta Squeenz -</span><br /></em></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-68743765766268828852008-12-26T12:28:00.001-08:002008-12-26T12:34:03.319-08:00# 76<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJ-gJvnu6F4AvNkA6idEYgdsmfbZEYmOFpR4fJ1s_-5bLz4XslrPLc-0mDVgu3qBGR2ZZzO7XZ9IluFqfNWzGNvUozuqQm2TAohYltoU05egowv8862STqfY4jBiISbvHjemJ3aSTWOBP/s1600-h/dancing1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284198444570113138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJ-gJvnu6F4AvNkA6idEYgdsmfbZEYmOFpR4fJ1s_-5bLz4XslrPLc-0mDVgu3qBGR2ZZzO7XZ9IluFqfNWzGNvUozuqQm2TAohYltoU05egowv8862STqfY4jBiISbvHjemJ3aSTWOBP/s400/dancing1.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">Esprimi un desiderio e vedrai</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">te stesso sul palcoscenico </span><span style="font-family:Arial;">messo a nudo</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">con ghirlande intrecciate nei capelli</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Vedrai una piacevole sorpresa</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">e sussurrando disse:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">io distruggerò la tua mente.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ffcccc;">(( la linea delle tue labbra riscrive la storia))</span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">- Velvet Goldmine -</span><br /></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-46363799675492314772008-12-04T06:27:00.000-08:002008-12-04T06:36:22.168-08:00# 75<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvrlktQ031o1Mixj1LKq1Fz9DbK7gZbhbJ3LR_Omz2Ubrqp1QYoX52Iuw_-8ccVh2oZLoufdNyxAece5zzS06gC1GpX-VE3jgqZ2gIXtxEQ4C3y4_qJ_YzW9BFT-u4lSc3gsnLbbG7bcj/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275941717542316162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmvrlktQ031o1Mixj1LKq1Fz9DbK7gZbhbJ3LR_Omz2Ubrqp1QYoX52Iuw_-8ccVh2oZLoufdNyxAece5zzS06gC1GpX-VE3jgqZ2gIXtxEQ4C3y4_qJ_YzW9BFT-u4lSc3gsnLbbG7bcj/s400/1.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Vows are spoken to be broken</span></div><div align="center">Feeling are intense words are trivial</div><div align="center">Pleasures remains so does the pain</div><div align="center">Words are meaningless and forgettable</div><div align="center">Words are very unnecessary they can only do harm.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Parole come violenza rompono il silenzio</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">arrivano irrompendo nel mio piccolo mondo))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">_ <strong>Depeche Mode</strong> _ Enjoy the silence _<br /></span></em></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-35098832942606603712008-11-30T07:47:00.001-08:002008-11-30T07:55:22.179-08:00# 74<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxl-HADno65e176poKRokk89yDmmjqvAwKu0R0JlRp7CO7BR4vCPTLzK8cfQHNjot7WRHJLaGC_jRinD8X5d2EytzKrK38CD4giUcPswW1fxblYidDnRvvme0XYRh8lFtmgtOjbP2fMEKw/s1600-h/DavidLaChapelle1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274477837184236594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxl-HADno65e176poKRokk89yDmmjqvAwKu0R0JlRp7CO7BR4vCPTLzK8cfQHNjot7WRHJLaGC_jRinD8X5d2EytzKrK38CD4giUcPswW1fxblYidDnRvvme0XYRh8lFtmgtOjbP2fMEKw/s400/DavidLaChapelle1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">Non voglio che tu creda ciecamente in ciò che dico o faccio,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">le mie parole e le mie azioni, infatti, non sono altro</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">che i tuoi pensieri e le tue speranze resi tangibili.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Tu ami la Verità, la Bellezza e la Giustizia,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">e io, per amor tuo, dico che amare è bello, giusto e decoroso</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">anche se dentro di me rido del tuo amore. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Ma non voglio che tu lo veda. Riderò da solo.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Tu sei buono, cauto e saggio, certo sei perfetto;</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">anch'io, benchè sia pazzo, quando parlo con te, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">lo faccio con saggezza e cautela, mascherando la mia pazzia.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ffcccc;">(( Amico o nemico che tu sia, come posso farti capire?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ffcccc;">Anche se camminiamo insieme, mano nella mano,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ffcccc;">la mia strada non è la tua.))</span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">_ Khalil Gibran _<br /></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-20492364531903380232008-11-24T13:39:00.000-08:002008-11-24T13:50:11.733-08:00# 73<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJthzhPAGjnPC0yayWIGWsHL_90-rOHrGmjoJTduANVNRllamUTwWgvvPn0zji0-7cDP9995HvVTM2XCRk8ycr6pB4x-1AIrm4bdchGkNq3LSe_A5wvnOEimekhN1T_yf_IU7WUWox6-Zq/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272342221090565090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJthzhPAGjnPC0yayWIGWsHL_90-rOHrGmjoJTduANVNRllamUTwWgvvPn0zji0-7cDP9995HvVTM2XCRk8ycr6pB4x-1AIrm4bdchGkNq3LSe_A5wvnOEimekhN1T_yf_IU7WUWox6-Zq/s400/7.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> Qualsiasi cosa del resto è una perdita di tempo</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">tranne fottere di gusto o guarire o</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">correr dietro ad una specie di fantasma-amore-felicità.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Tanto tutti finiamo nel mondizzaio della sconfitta:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">chiamala morte, chiamala errore.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Io non sono bravo con le parole.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Direi però, che tutti ci si adatta alle circostanze,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">che certe cose accrescono la tua esperienza,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">anche se magari non si tratta di saggezza.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">E' possibile per altro che uno resti tutta la vita nell'errore</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">vivendo come in uno stato di intontimento o di paura.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Ne avrete viste di queste facce. Io ho visto la mia.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcccc;">(( Oh cristo! Il matrimonio, Dio, i figli, i parenti e il lavoro.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcccc;">Non ti rendi conto che qualsiasi idiota può vivere così</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcccc;">e che la maggior parte lo fa?))</span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffffff;">_ Charles Bukowski _</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-64123456020794495842008-11-16T12:52:00.001-08:002008-11-16T13:02:10.702-08:00# 72<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5aGDqNQui6ULKWGhLt31ngPzNeQmbrsvTg_5FGzZwnJ24vPcAORzfWepjTGpNN63fImGIVga1r_LWB-HqN6PTjeSguIVNHmkk3PzGPJSHuP9DpSMsJeShZKpQ1-uKHc4WHwQGKj_0ULxL/s1600-h/saudekov0.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269361475065894738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5aGDqNQui6ULKWGhLt31ngPzNeQmbrsvTg_5FGzZwnJ24vPcAORzfWepjTGpNN63fImGIVga1r_LWB-HqN6PTjeSguIVNHmkk3PzGPJSHuP9DpSMsJeShZKpQ1-uKHc4WHwQGKj_0ULxL/s400/saudekov0.png" border="0" /></a> Perchè c'era qualcosa, tra quei due,</div><div align="center">qualcosa che in verità doveva essere </div><div align="center">un segreto o qualcosa di simile.</div><div align="center">Così era difficile capire ciò che si dicevano, </div><div align="center">e come vivevano, e com'erano.</div><div align="center">Ci si sarebbe potuti sfarinare il cervello</div><div align="center">a cercar di dare un senso a certi loro gesti.</div><div align="center">E ci si poteva chiedere perchè per anni e anni.</div><div align="center">L' unica cosa che spesso risultava evidente,</div><div align="center">anzi quasi sempre, e forse sempre</div><div align="center">l'unica cosa rara era che in quel che facevano</div><div align="center">e in quello che erano c'era qualcosa,</div><div align="center">per così dire, di bello.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Maledizione. Con tutto quello che uno </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">vorrebbe dire...e invece niente,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">non esce fuori niente.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">Si può esser fatti peggio di così?))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>A. Baricco</strong> - Castelli di rabbia -</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-78120337282758270742008-11-12T14:45:00.001-08:002008-11-12T14:53:57.475-08:00# 71<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JNKA0gN46L7m4BWx4pREIT1uTE6qt_xsIwdV7RhLHQMTRTGCiQ_hV6hqzjLSZNXh5Tc_vK2J8ijX2HaPs8N1wHOYYWR1c6X3fbzWavT7Ff0AKgefNPqMif0XZt4ZidXU4VqDiyBmpc8E/s1600-h/isabella+santacroce+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267906076730563218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JNKA0gN46L7m4BWx4pREIT1uTE6qt_xsIwdV7RhLHQMTRTGCiQ_hV6hqzjLSZNXh5Tc_vK2J8ijX2HaPs8N1wHOYYWR1c6X3fbzWavT7Ff0AKgefNPqMif0XZt4ZidXU4VqDiyBmpc8E/s400/isabella+santacroce+2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Il tempo che splende e ci insegue ancora</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">e queste voci che consumano in fretta la mia vita</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">mi lasciano solo al centro</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">fra un passato che non conosco più </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">un passato che rivivo in ogni istante</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">e il futuro che si nasconde di fronte a me.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Colpisci il passato al cuore, le illusioni di sempre</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Abbatti il futuro se non ti appartiene.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcccc;">(( Il futuro da un nome agli sbagli di sempre</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcccc;">e quando non esistono li crea.))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">- <strong>Diaframma</strong> - Libra - </span><br /></span></em></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-6159554152756009032008-11-05T08:03:00.001-08:002008-11-05T08:13:47.503-08:00# 70<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCz4JlYPJll3vAVvaNjDxsukBYRv6YA8fzNpe8sjPwk6rrCQoNUrKu0jTvuRoroCW58i_ROKCvvB7Cy2o_5a9cOFlUGtFVIABdKvjg8R7Yrl6EUeWYiQWtq90_0WhZfIUeW3ETdfGmbWqh/s1600-h/Angel__Dark_Lolita_by_jesiel.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265204937293326578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCz4JlYPJll3vAVvaNjDxsukBYRv6YA8fzNpe8sjPwk6rrCQoNUrKu0jTvuRoroCW58i_ROKCvvB7Cy2o_5a9cOFlUGtFVIABdKvjg8R7Yrl6EUeWYiQWtq90_0WhZfIUeW3ETdfGmbWqh/s400/Angel__Dark_Lolita_by_jesiel.jpg" border="0" /></a>It's not a case of doing what's right </div><div align="center"> It's just the way I feel that matters </div><div align="center">It's not a case of share and share alike </div><div align="center">I take what I require...You say it's not fair </div><div align="center">It's not a case of telling the truth </div><div align="center">Call me a liar...You would anyway</div><div align="center">It's not a case of aiming to please </div><div align="center">It's just your part In the play for today</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Tell me I'm wrong...I don't really care </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">You know you're always crying.))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>The Cure</strong> - Play for today -<br /></span></em></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-52415319340703831742008-10-30T14:01:00.000-07:002008-10-30T14:08:56.080-07:00# 69<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLVVsLPvRu7DIQ8txn6K59m0Iml5kfM1sYpcTPxGKdz965TDV8yceW-8UTa_tnI315TupFv80DjhE780wED0pBkJUpCY4dbLrlKasSvypXkL5xefUOpstjMsZ3UqQEZo5ET6GsEmThApT/s1600-h/er.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263055422644426194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLVVsLPvRu7DIQ8txn6K59m0Iml5kfM1sYpcTPxGKdz965TDV8yceW-8UTa_tnI315TupFv80DjhE780wED0pBkJUpCY4dbLrlKasSvypXkL5xefUOpstjMsZ3UqQEZo5ET6GsEmThApT/s400/er.jpg" border="0" /></a> Scritto sul corpo c'è un codice segreto,</div><div align="center">visibile solo in certe condizioni di luce;</div><div align="center">quello che si è accumulato </div><div align="center">nel corso della vitasi trova lì.</div><div align="center">Preferisco tenere il mio corpo ripiegato,</div><div align="center">al riparo da sguardi indiscreti.</div><div align="center">Mai aprirsi troppo, svelare tutta la storia.</div><div align="center">Non sapevo che Louise</div><div align="center">avesse mani capaci di leggere.</div><div align="center">Mi aveva tradotto nel suo libro personale.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Ho provato a scacciarti dalla mente, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">ma sembra proprio chei io non riesca</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">a scacciarti dalla carne.))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>J. Winterson</strong> - Scritto sul corpo -<br /></span></em></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-69544186077340545462008-10-25T04:30:00.000-07:002008-10-25T04:33:25.068-07:00# 68<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLUUiP_-fcvbC9imPflpWqIPgPME2mWA6Faw6nS2i065g1BIcMsAIJfnL1cPRmMoI5XXKwaDRJGhmCReCsXp1k_lMtrnRqd8vIHgmBdkt9K2xDwv0Cj6uhi5jbLylO40pHKqcMl2in8RG/s1600-h/1205966140.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261052668315569058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 354px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLUUiP_-fcvbC9imPflpWqIPgPME2mWA6Faw6nS2i065g1BIcMsAIJfnL1cPRmMoI5XXKwaDRJGhmCReCsXp1k_lMtrnRqd8vIHgmBdkt9K2xDwv0Cj6uhi5jbLylO40pHKqcMl2in8RG/s400/1205966140.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Bimbo mi chiedi cos'è l'amore?</span></div><div align="center">Cresci e lo saprai.</div><div align="center">Bimbo mi chiedi cos'è la felicità?</div><div align="center">Rimani bimbo e lo saprai.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Un niente...che al momento in cui lo vivi</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">sembra tutto!))</span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- Jim Morrison -<br /></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-48856470709377149992008-10-20T10:47:00.000-07:002008-10-20T11:03:54.471-07:00# 67<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_2AgghrAOKhY4cgik89iHN-AvkrGovLuMj_zNNqKF-yfXuMIgscfhhmpVnl4NFazikaQlj2LzZSVxnU3RbQzZKNhSVexM1Y2HXqaM6Lka-8NNGsm20_DaJWfbRvlMTgUh_WMni1Q315/s1600-h/ads12.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259294451976873474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_2AgghrAOKhY4cgik89iHN-AvkrGovLuMj_zNNqKF-yfXuMIgscfhhmpVnl4NFazikaQlj2LzZSVxnU3RbQzZKNhSVexM1Y2HXqaM6Lka-8NNGsm20_DaJWfbRvlMTgUh_WMni1Q315/s400/ads12.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">You must uderstand t</span>hat the touch of your hand</div><div align="center">makes my pulse react. It' physical, only logical</div><div align="center">You must try to ignore that it means more.</div><div align="center">It may seem to you that I'm acting confused</div><div align="center">when you' re close to me If I tend to look dazed</div><div align="center">I' ve read it someplace I've got cause to be.</div><div align="center">Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Cos' è l'amore se non </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">un' emozione di seconda mano?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">Cos' è l'amore se non </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">una dolce nozione vecchio stile?))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>Tina Turner</strong> - What's love got to do with it -</span></em></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-49044310191526654682008-10-18T03:11:00.000-07:002008-10-20T11:06:16.649-07:00# 66<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7uAhkbWXH1Pp3qDcn4_4fDSQlbsVwt48dSLi12B1L8yFV6NzAL-6J7y6xFkOwjjDhO8aOItpNsPtOZXQAG9NLvFPL4gbYXk3rtVjBbJOHZCxHChe24gfokOWIXbUdTkt8-AQnkekpFl1/s1600-h/ballerina_garter_b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258435075662275362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7uAhkbWXH1Pp3qDcn4_4fDSQlbsVwt48dSLi12B1L8yFV6NzAL-6J7y6xFkOwjjDhO8aOItpNsPtOZXQAG9NLvFPL4gbYXk3rtVjBbJOHZCxHChe24gfokOWIXbUdTkt8-AQnkekpFl1/s400/ballerina_garter_b.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center">Tutta questa gente dietro delle maschere:</div><div align="center">gli occhiali da sole e le auto e gli </div><div align="center">abiti alla moda e le acconciature.</div><div align="center">Non attiri l'attenzione, buona o cattiva che sia.</div><div align="center">Però c<span style="font-family:lucida grande;">he cosa si proverebbe a vivere </span></div><div align="center">destando l'attenzione?</div><div align="center">Spingendo gli altri a guardarti,</div><div align="center">costringendoli a riempire gli spazi vuoti</div><div align="center">e a pensare quello che vogliono.</div><div align="center">Mettendoli in condizione di proiettare</div><div align="center">su di te alcuni aspetti di se stessi </div><div align="center">per un giorno intero.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Ormai, non me ne frega più un cazzo.))</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>Chuck Palahniuk</strong> - La scimmia pensa la scimmia fa -</span></em></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-34328762258031092152008-10-10T13:15:00.000-07:002008-10-10T13:23:47.196-07:00# 65<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmxczGtqQafTaOGU5IM4bEJGZuRYyVceEVdtoYjD_40XE5Ktac9kE7u8UEybRHlvTipLQ97vdQNO4TJkCuSPq5ZC0LA7GXkSYxKr292IQ9sqWPKlSGFOPSpGn_wjwqraU0KdAD-4eug03/s1600-h/3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255621816516701458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmxczGtqQafTaOGU5IM4bEJGZuRYyVceEVdtoYjD_40XE5Ktac9kE7u8UEybRHlvTipLQ97vdQNO4TJkCuSPq5ZC0LA7GXkSYxKr292IQ9sqWPKlSGFOPSpGn_wjwqraU0KdAD-4eug03/s400/3.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;">When the routine bite hard</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">and ambitions are low</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">and resentment rides high</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">but emotions won' t grow</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">and we' re changing our ways</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">taking different roads</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">than love, love will tear us apart again.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Do you cry out in your sleep</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">all my failings exposed?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Get a taste in my mouth </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">as desperations takes hold.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ffcccc;">(( E' qualcosa di così buono che</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ffcccc;">non può proprio più funzionare?))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>Joy Division</strong> - Love will tear us apart -</span></em> </span><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-76631043360179739782008-10-08T14:52:00.000-07:002008-10-08T15:00:50.120-07:00# 64<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fwcc3J_hpSDAgfMVIXEfohmuVfQiYBqD6cs87E-UXAzu7CinxWJztDTHhGphELGYl7StPuH-4hWyNLYrjdoq4lo3eQSqm1ayavJWExXWyu3bW5dsuGVgB6mh6VMq80ESD7I7YTOzf7RR/s1600-h/The_Mask.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254904660304084178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fwcc3J_hpSDAgfMVIXEfohmuVfQiYBqD6cs87E-UXAzu7CinxWJztDTHhGphELGYl7StPuH-4hWyNLYrjdoq4lo3eQSqm1ayavJWExXWyu3bW5dsuGVgB6mh6VMq80ESD7I7YTOzf7RR/s400/The_Mask.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;">E se la battuta della vita che imita l'arte</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">si rivelasse migliore di quanto pensiamo?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Noi, perlopiù, capiamo noi stessi</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">attraverso una serie infinita di storie che </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">ci raccontiamo e che ci raccontano gli altri.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">I così detti fatti dei nostri mondi individuali</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">sono altamente costruiti e arbitrari,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">sono fatti che si adattano a qualsiasi finzione</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">a cui noi abbiamo scelto di credere.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Le persone reali possono essere finzioni?))<br /></span><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- <strong>J. Winterson</strong> - L' arte dissente -</span></em></span></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-69281652520153898812008-10-05T02:53:00.001-07:002008-10-05T03:11:20.481-07:00# 63<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYvH3PB1KNHx2Nb4oZ0K4AwmjdDsApOJ97VqS0kX8s7hOIZHEdoDfmO5W49fdnOQ7Ebx4BcowmbLQjKAWYdd_Sz_sJQ1RIofhrWyqimnZgQUvf21bhudBpf9CBGgcbE1LQd1mlLJ-SQMq/s1600-h/6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253606047831193762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYvH3PB1KNHx2Nb4oZ0K4AwmjdDsApOJ97VqS0kX8s7hOIZHEdoDfmO5W49fdnOQ7Ebx4BcowmbLQjKAWYdd_Sz_sJQ1RIofhrWyqimnZgQUvf21bhudBpf9CBGgcbE1LQd1mlLJ-SQMq/s400/6.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Se ho voglia di ridere </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">rido come una matta</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Amo colui che m' ama, </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">n</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">on è colpa mia se </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">non è </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">sempre quello </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">per cui faccio follie.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Sono fatta per piacere, </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">non c'è nulla da fare</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Troppo alti i mie tacchi,</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">troppo arcuate le reni</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Troppo sodi i miei seni, </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">troppo truccati gli occhi.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Chi mi vuole sono qui.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Che cosa ve ne importa </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">del mio proprio passato?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Certo qualcuno ho amato</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">e qualcuno ha amato me</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">come i giovani che si amano </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">sanno</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> semplicemente amare, a</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">mare, amare...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Che vale interrogarmi?</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Sono qui per piacervi</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">E niente può cambiarmi.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffcccc;">(( Sono quella che sono, sono fatta così.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffcccc;">Che volete ancora? Che volete da me?))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffffff;"><em>- <strong>Jacques Prévert</strong> - Je suis comme Je suis -</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffffff;"><em></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-85417046770090522742008-09-29T08:53:00.001-07:002008-09-29T08:55:51.065-07:00# 62<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLgfcJpKApvj0ZB0eIlAh1rww3GbK2tCduBa6I-SsvV-A969FYztGC92bm2_aUlJ4aW4YC_lxCvZVTdkEPKCOWcsb6DUQhpItbh12eYgp_pg1GVrXSP-0lqa3JOus7FfHkrzprtI3XODF/s1600-h/19102004118bacio.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251472153545778706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLgfcJpKApvj0ZB0eIlAh1rww3GbK2tCduBa6I-SsvV-A969FYztGC92bm2_aUlJ4aW4YC_lxCvZVTdkEPKCOWcsb6DUQhpItbh12eYgp_pg1GVrXSP-0lqa3JOus7FfHkrzprtI3XODF/s400/19102004118bacio.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Non c'è niente di più importante nella vita</span></div><div align="center">che ammettere che forse una cosa</div><div align="center">è davvero o bianca o nera.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Mi mancheranno le tue labbra </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">e tutto ciò che le circonda..))</span></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">- Elizabethtown -<br /></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-18124231628185413492008-09-21T05:48:00.001-07:002008-09-21T05:52:38.323-07:00# 61<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VW8MC-E03sl2NnFFH43BwriJbvqfaR6nN3ebIGF4FMNSVZMyNI4pmpZrucomZPS1A77WgXAeXTS5yp66q_sgkGx0fzQiMGK0hsCLQN1GO01iDOPkt_-F4JUVuo7K_9SXotbVUlS3Icj0/s1600-h/still_true_by_ma_dame.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248455921980660674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VW8MC-E03sl2NnFFH43BwriJbvqfaR6nN3ebIGF4FMNSVZMyNI4pmpZrucomZPS1A77WgXAeXTS5yp66q_sgkGx0fzQiMGK0hsCLQN1GO01iDOPkt_-F4JUVuo7K_9SXotbVUlS3Icj0/s400/still_true_by_ma_dame.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Certe persone, certi pensieri,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">certi sogni e certi incubi</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">non mi abbandoneranno mai</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">- che mi piaccia o no -</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">e saranno me e la mia vita.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcccc;">(( Sono le emozioni la droga più forte di tutte.))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffffff;"><em>- <strong>E. Nesi</strong> - Per sempre - </em></span></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-915054221923192402008-09-16T03:25:00.001-07:002008-09-16T03:35:54.288-07:00# 60<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-dMsHbfr3bSFqwmqdgMULvaeijBlvWxl-Z_VrPGl9gOr0RBIt5va1ZRTN7IL4vPCHs4YsgpMaSoa8v3J6qfcQGLXr6e71GYNOzJ5lIZe_LeGXuqOvneoGacSPWglRfaVRjRIw1JgVJp9/s1600-h/groupie_wideweb__470x309,0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246563618183186562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-dMsHbfr3bSFqwmqdgMULvaeijBlvWxl-Z_VrPGl9gOr0RBIt5va1ZRTN7IL4vPCHs4YsgpMaSoa8v3J6qfcQGLXr6e71GYNOzJ5lIZe_LeGXuqOvneoGacSPWglRfaVRjRIw1JgVJp9/s400/groupie_wideweb__470x309,0.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">Spesso dicevo che la vita era uno schifo.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Anche quella frase mi stava fregano, perchè avrei dovuto dire:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">" La mia vita è uno schifo"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Magari, avrei iniziato a chiedermi se potevo fare qualcosa</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">per cambiarla.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> Se era tutta colpa del destino, del caso, della sfortuna,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">o se invece anch' io ne ero colpevole.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Perchè dire che la vita fa schifo è come dire</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">che non c'è niente che si possa fare.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Che bisogna accettarlo come un dato di fatto imprescindibile.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Fortuna che poi ho cambiato idea.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Ho imparato a pormi una domanda ogni sera prima di addormentarmi:</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">cosa hai fatto oggi per realizzare il tuo sogno, la tua libertà?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Alla seconda sera in cui mi sono risposto " Niente"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">ho capito quanto, in fondo, una parte del problema fossi io.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffcccc;">(( Avevo capito che rinuciare a se stessi, non amarsi,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffcccc;">è come sbagliare a chiudere il primo bottone della camicia.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffcccc;">Tutti gli altri poi sono sbagliati di conseguenza.))</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#ffffff;"><strong><em>- Fabio Volo -</em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /> </div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611968948761440982.post-13349519643837262412008-09-15T05:20:00.000-07:002008-09-15T05:26:40.102-07:00# 59<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatJGE7PHzlcl7fWTJLDU_oZoI_Jy4nia3a1x3BfWX_3vWp1nKE3czawVURrcfK-d-LWVO7A8XckCstzi9B3irf4OQf40gfg79danWt1JEBFORPIAQaYI1CQsQGSLUzv2CafTVP_PA4jee/s1600-h/1144266991fih5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246222227027772322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatJGE7PHzlcl7fWTJLDU_oZoI_Jy4nia3a1x3BfWX_3vWp1nKE3czawVURrcfK-d-LWVO7A8XckCstzi9B3irf4OQf40gfg79danWt1JEBFORPIAQaYI1CQsQGSLUzv2CafTVP_PA4jee/s400/1144266991fih5.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:georgia;">It' s the disease of the age</span></div><div align="center">It' s the disease that we crave</div><div align="center">Alone at the end of the rave</div><div align="center">We catch the last bus home</div><div align="center">Maybe we' re victims of fate</div><div align="center">Remember when we' d celebrate</div><div align="center">We' d drink and ger high until late</div><div align="center">And now we' re all alone.</div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">(( Protect me from what I want...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">Protect me. Protect me.))<br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em><strong>- Placebo -</strong></em></span></div><div align="center"></div>I amhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00928679621824645630noreply@blogger.com0