Northness and other essentials.
in Italy, by train, pointing to my companion the rise of the mountains around the lake. Despite being a native German, fluent and spoke excellent English, so that all the time we opted for the latter language. But - for a mild form of courtesy, so as to make him feel more comfortable - we decided it was appropriate to speak German, and from that moment I began to confuse the languages no longer in control of words that came out of the mouth.
I had found in a supermarket, at a date fixed by me eons ago - would come only if his interest in me was a certain standard, firm enough to follow me in Italy.
I found it to stock their favorite beer, climbing from the bottom of the shelf to reach the last remaining cans.
We were hugging and I was excited & potergli embarrassed to express my happiness.
He, however, as usual, was just sweet. That slight sweetness, which is already in the physical and knows bendisposizione, along with the sly smile of a pixie Irish - he was half Irish.
We were in Italy, surrounded by a group of Senegalese learned from that smear the entrance to the headquarters of the University of Milan - the worst manifestation of Senegal where you can come across, namely that he wants to sell you something. Mater, in order to give guests a good example, voiced a gentleness certainly exemplary, but that there would never released by the sellers. I tried to tell him, to insist, explain, and meanwhile - while she clung to want to get items that would not buy anything - it was evening, the host of Senegalese had turned into a Court of Miracles to Hugo and I had incorporated : I was part now, and I would spend the night there, uncomfortable on the stone steps of a cellar, too uncomfortable for me to sleep.
then I saw a kitten - a kitten as young thing who attracts the eye and you want to pamper you - go up the stairs, and followed him, finding myself in a room full of Victorian workers, intent on textured fabric side by side. Wove stockings cat dander, far from industrial products, rather than a laboratory of creativity: each, in fact, drew from the cat that passed under his hands a unique piece of clothing, more symbolic than aesthetic.
I came to understand that I was not allowed to leave the cellar of my own (discovered to have become a whore, in the meantime) and that every five minutes of freedom were paid for killing a kitten with the long accepted against the wall. A woman showed me how, but accepts it became a long, sharp knife and the kitten was a lobster-shaped as long, that she broke in half and began to suck.
"You know, I thought I was going to go out and solicit customers. "I said a very pretty girl, with high hopes and optimism in the face wrote that she would come to nothing.
The I pointed out that I was only 3 hours a day of freedom, and those of sleep were counted as such, and in fact I had no free time per day, required to remain in the cellar waiting for somebody to tell me with whom to fuck.
watched her hunt for wealthy customers who have enabled and created an emancipation that the work was not for me, that I should try another one.
I was so huge in the sewers of a city steampunk abandoned. There was Locke (Lost ) with me, but only to suggest that in that city there have been more or less than thirty people, including a virago blonde who gives off more of the authorities and Sergeant Hartman of the person who has put you in awe together. The only other note worthy about the blonde who is not taking me seriously. He looked at me, tenderly, laying his broom in the ass, and smiled and shook his head and then leave to think about more serious things.
of serious things to think there were plenty of course, because those poor 30 people were already divided into groups at war with each other, to side with a pair of ugly and annoying friends who raided stores indiscriminately.
survived four or five, and we could return to the surface and found that there was nothing on the surface. There was a city once, but had been razed to the ground leaving us to contemplate a bleak horizon - in the dream turned into a post-apocalyptic world in a deserted looking for survivors.
epochs followed each other, I suppose. I know that in time the fluid dream of the city had plenty of time to immerse themselves - and I speak of these clusters of skyscrapers cropped up, especially in Venice and rotten roots from rotting undergrowth, but the peaks which glittered like the ocean.
with the camera was following the effort of a man who climbed on ledges and outside stairs, jumping from one building to another, more on avoiding mold channel, and - finally on top of all the miserable wars that this post-apocalyptic home to Venice, complete with a mafia - they threw hilarious from the twentieth floor of a building in the ocean clean. Just for the hell of it. Only it did allow him to return to the city with a clear conscience.
Should I stop sleeping so long.
I turn on the TV to make me spend a headache from excessive sleep consumed and I witness what appears to be more of a fall of Berlusconi. Not because what he is accused is inexcusable - indeed, among the many accusations, I mean has something of the grotesque possibility that a vice personnel can bring you down - but it is now taking yet another charge in a different way, there is widespread outrage and tougher and, in short, if everything is in the hands of media, despite the paradox that the media are in hand to him, then a greater weight given by the media requires more extensive answers.
I have previously criticized the wave of indignation raised by women, finding that it is grotesque "thank you" to Berlusconi that the people ask vagina equipped with more respect - in other words, if the culprit is the Devil himself, once knocked down the women begin to be silent? But the fact that this post-feminist outrage has been so voice against Berlusconi is symptomatic of something - not a general malaise, but of ' externalization of a general malaise. All Quiet on the Western Front, but the fact that now the complaints are brought to the surface for what was already on the Western Front.
The voices of the media in Italy have in fact now a tone similar to what I found abroad (and that anyone can find by opening a newspaper is not Italian, and always has been able to do so). In Germany I have often found in front of a single, fatal question, something like:
"But why did you vote? But because it allows him to be there?"
The question was complex issue to be completed as an Italian. The matter Berlusconi, with its famous outputs that are much fuss, if judged from a neutral point of view and aseptic European average would lead to certain logical responses. Logically, then, is not acceptable that a politician of stature who can say certain things in public, this is a sensation, a sensation as does the fact that a population is taken into a politician on which hang so much criticism, substantiated or not .
The current criticism of the media is more like the attitude that I found abroad, and this is the new thing. I do not dare to join the chorus that rails against Berlusconi a womanizer, because I already did before the media focused on the matter and why now would seem to me to shoot the red cross (well, too easy to do when they do it all).
remain so silent on the sidelines watching, curious.
Then there is the possibility that Berlusconi scampi at the judicial level, but what matters is not the given, he never counted, but the audience reaction, and Berlusconi has already been stigmatized by the word "corruption", then I see unlikely that a decision to silence the outrage.
remain so pending, curious, wondering what will happen after Berlusconi. I have often written against those who rails against Berlusconi with some gossip - I have often written against those who opposed the policy as a permanent enemy, trend as Berlusconi (see: Berlusconi and the Communists) that anti-Berlusconi. It is peculiar that the opposition is united by an anti-Berlusconi by name instead of a party, do not you?
I do not follow politics much. They are more radical-chic and social reforms rather prefer to speak of individuals who constitute a nation, and this ranting against an enemy too large to be detected, and that often includes myself.
I wonder if the rise of this outrage against corruption and dandyism will go with the fall of Berlusconi. I'm pessimistic about it, but who knows? Maybe Berlusconi had the holy office to remind the people that there is one thing Call dignity, perhaps his fall the people will feel less helpless and more influential in politics.
Well, for once such outrage would follow a significant effect on the living room.
A course of GNP (yes, if certain trends are ridiculed because somehow I tried to shake hands with them), during a visualization exercise, I was asked to see a city, then ask how it was.
I then described this long road with tall buildings - buildings that, on closer inspection turned out to be two-dimensional cartoon. At the end of the street was a desert, complete with sheaves of straw.
At the time I was told it was a very depressing sight - and later I somehow agreed. I have not thought about what that vision was, in effect, relaxing .
In the dream last night, looking for survivors in the post-apocalyptic world, passed from Kiel - which, post-apocalyptic, is not very different from today, considering the amount of people you can find on the street. Kiel
The real one I had known it was a united effort of the atmosphere of the Nordic of which were composed of my dreams pre-panting Germany. In short, Kiel found exactly what I was looking for, and at this point that I would describe this Nordic , but it gets problematic.
I found the term in relation to Canada, who desperately tried to find a proper and peculiar feature to get away from the English motherland. In a strange paradox, the only thing that our dear Canadian northness was found that even they were able to explain much good if not talking about some voidness.
A dictionary tells me that the northness is " A tendency in the end of a magnetic needle to point to the north " definition and how I like it because it speaks of a trend and not a matter of observable fact, speaks in one direction and not a place. After
examination of 10 (for which I will not be prepared) I'll have to spend ten days at the library to work on the thesis - and the premise to see what my contact told me, as many teachers love to do, that "you can not do a search online, you need to go at , in the library. " I understand that my references are, but I wonder if she has taken the sacred value of the Internet. I mean, the best way that I would describe the northness is not to take a dictionary (or two) paper and write in what they say: The best way would be to tell google that word and see how it is used in that context, in what ways. I do not know what is involved in the word "manifesto" next the name of a God that I learned somewhere - a definition can never be given to the implications of the word, because those implications are the result of intercourse that occurs between the definition and Weltanschauung of the person who uses it.
Some words, like northness , have the character to be enough in itself indefinable, and I of course - an enemy of compilations - I love this.
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