Are Dark Operations Fighting Knives Good?

SPAZZOLOGOS



has two names, opposite and parallel. One is
greek sound, one of those persuasive words, which bring with them all they need to be included (great language, greek, where words are things).
One is walking and every day, one of those words necessary, just to control the objects (these are the things to be words, at times: we put labels on things to tame, as are the things that we domesticate).
The two names do not look alike at all. One is a concept, one is a tool.

The two names are "Callistemon" and "brush". The object is to designate a plant, plant with flowers in a bad brush, red, from which it hangs just missing the plastic label, a logo moplen or PVC.
has tough leaves and unruly, the Callistemon-brush, flowers such as dense brush, branches hairy. A faint, incongruous smell of lemon completes the suspicious nature, artificial. Come from Australia, and is spreading - at least here at my latitude - anywhere. I see her ugly and fake flowers citrigni excited - the branches are quarrelsome rays, differing - on the edge of lawns and gardens, with roots hungry supplant the old vegetation, magnolias, ficus the prehistoric pine trees from the saline entry.

"No, really, toothbrushes?" Said the delighted owners of flower beds and gardens. And produces colanders and ashtrays, perhaps of a beautiful metallic gray, would be even more admirable, I suppose. Therefore, the plant has the capacity to be other things that you admire. Callistemon is his being a toothbrush, before planting.

We will live among the forests of tools that are concepts, or - worse - concepts that are tools, and populate our gardens of bad imitations, objects suspected caricatures?

They are not, perhaps, things only mirrors the patterns that we project on them relentlessly, calling them concepts, tools or brushes?
What we see in those mirrors, crowded with toothbrushes?

Anybody Used A Lime Dip On Cat?

VANILLA AND WOOD GREEN INDEX



Yeah, it's summer. Not even summer summer, but that the spring board brazen.
In such moments I listen and hear clearly the sound of grinding of the earth, and you convince yourself unequivocally that the world is sixteen years old.
begin to blaze right now, so brilliant seasons in blue and impartially, the others. Those brand new. Flower girls, girls with soft curls at the nape, the navels round the ankles points, the smell of vanilla and green wood. Boys
rough and velvety, raw of adolescence, of recent energy, wonderful and very balanced.

Moves forgetfulness, in the air. Sometimes even shake the sheets of our old albums, where the scripts are cataloged minutely moves, intentions, screenplays. A strip that is seen in the hips, the shoulder line, a cheekbone do justice to any argument.

4 Hp Evinrude Outboard

here is full of writers and readers (not necessarily both things together, unfortunately). All write, write, collaborate, edit, publish, and everyone reads, quote, review.
I carve out a place for niche markets. I read the indexes.

Every time I open a book, run to see where and how the index. Who puts it on, I'll drill bit and you lift your arms, because there is no escape, you have to give up. Who puts it in the end, when you resume as a hard, sweaty and full of maps and maps that you have to do alone, crossing the desert.
E 'a vision of the world, for that matter. Index Index recto or verso. There are signs

skinny, mocking indices (those that read as follows: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 ...), that are raised against an average player, in fact.
There are signs that just those with the elegance of steel sleepers that sparkle under the skin of glass skyscrapers in sight.
There are indexes that are artworks apart - ah, those authors that give titles to the chapters endless, narration in the narrative. What is that, indeed, the real work?

Yesterday I read a book, or rather an index. It was perfect, I do not read much. I'll copy it here, so you can read you, and meditate. Readers Become an index to read the whole hand is lost time and take crabs.

SOCIAL HISTORY OF ODOR
Alain Corbin



Preface PART ONE
Revolution perceptual or smell suspect
Chapter I
air and a frightening threat putrid

The smells of corruption broth


Chapter II
poles supervision olfactory

Land and archeology of the miasma of the swamp The
Sanie

Chapter III
emanations social

The smell of bodies
management desire and repulsion
The bilge and smells of the city ill

Chapter IV
Redefining the unbearable

The lowering of the thresholds of tolerance
The old alibi therapeutic
The indictment
The depreciation of the aroma of musk
Chapter V

The recalculation of olfactory pleasure

Pleasure and rose water
The scent of Narcissus
PART TWO

Purify public space

Chapter I
strategies of deodorization

pavement. Drain. Ventilate
Thinning. Disinfect
Laboratories of new strategies

Chapter II
odors and physiology of social

dell'osmologia The brief golden age and the consequences of the revolution lavoiseriana
Utilitarianism and smells of the public space
The revolution of chlorides and control the flows

Chapter III
policy and harm

The formulation of the code and the primacy of smell
Apprenticeship tolerance

PART THREE
Odori, symbols e rappresentazioni sociali

Cabanis e il senso delle affinità

Capitolo I
Il puzzo del povero

Le secrezioni della miseria
La gabbia e la tana
Sgrommare il miserabile

Capitolo II
"Il fiato della classe"

La fobia dell'asfissia e l'odore ereditario
Le esigenze degli igienisti e la nuova sensibilità
I gesti e le norme

Capitolo III
I profumi dell'intimità

"La pulizia perseverante"
Il sapiente calcolo dei messaggi corporei
Le brevi oscillazioni della storia della profumeria

Capitolo IV
L'ebbrezza e il flacone

Il respiro del tempo
The censer dell'alcova
A new management of the rhythms of desire


Chapter V "Laughter in sweat"

The uphill battle against the excrement
Two conceptions
The air under the dirt
The licentiousness of the nose

Final
"The smells of Paris" The decline of myths

prepasteuriane
circuit hermetic or stream
The stagnation or dilution
Epilogue


not know about you, but I enjoy immensely the revolution of the chlorides, the indictment Moss and the licentiousness of the nose. And then tell me it is not literature, this?

Attach Mantle Shelf To Wall

My blog is committed suicide.
When I open it, it is a uniform white wall, and "completed operation" that mocks me from the edge of the page.
Yes, I know, I had overlooked. Yes, I know, not looking at him like they used to. Yes, I know, it gave him plenty to eat. Yes, I know, social workers m'avevano warned: the world is full of blogs abandoned in nursing homes or worse.
that time, then, I do not want to leave the motorway, it was an accident.
Believe me.

Did Deborah Sampson's Have A Quotable Quote

QUIET SUICIDE IN MIAMI FOR A NICE



So, I know not what evil astral situation forces me to do it, but hate a person who gave me a Ellroy (American Tabloid), and the forza dell'odio mi ci sono addentrata come se fosse il bosco di Pier delle Vigne e potessi pure dialogarci, con quell'anima stecchita.
E procedo anche se mi sembra, a volte, di avere la bocca piena di fango, e spesso non mi ricordo la trama, e fatico a seguire i personaggi, che sono come le facce multiple di Freddy Krueger, tutti in polivinile impastato col cianuro.

Credo che Ellroy sia un pazzo pericoloso, ma certe volte è un Tacito strafatto di acidi che scrive di quell'America a stelle strisce e vomito, l'America lercia e ovale che ha perso l'innocenza così presto da poter dire di non averla mai avuta, ma conservandone un mito così tenace e feroce da mettere terrore.
Non so se capirò nulla di quell'intrigo at many levels, not ever review the plots - as in life, I will let them pass right through, or bypass me - but no matter, I drink sips fast and slightly guilty of that broth hot coke and fresh blood, and sometimes m 'fixed in front of things like "Miami was like a huge, bright bleaching."

Ellroy says in the first page: "It 's time to embrace the history of some bad men and the price they paid to secretly define their time."
's time to look for the "ruthless verisimilitude" that cuts like razors.
There is no truth in these pages. A part of the world.

do not know if a reading is adapted to the times. I do not know if the readings, do the time. I do not know if they have time to do the readings. (I do not know if the readings and the time to really make us)

Maybe tomorrow I'll buy Harry Potter.