Saturday, February 26, 2011

Gretchen Rossi Rollers

The few things that is worth telling

The fact that we are not talking more of the bullshit Friday night does not mean that they cease.
What about one night, Friday, when asked to come at 11? Where then forced to remain in the presence of His Majesty the Brightest professor to be a witness to last on the list - despite the vote already pocketed - you end up with sleep? Just one thing: experience. The doors of the department are wide open, run to the middle of the streets of Careggi with smile on her lips, her voice makes her way alone through the larynx and then explode in a barrage of screams and noise to wake up half the peace of small department pazientini resting in their beds ... And then, in a car, friends, beer, vodka & gin and lemon soda, Negroni, dancing and screaming, fighting between sleep, cold and alcohol - and sometimes confounding monologue - is everything down (including eyelids).
Fighting, always. Against themselves if there is someone else. But now enough.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Would You Know If You Had A Brain Tumor

Ludwig Van


He had written without ever being able to listen to. The grumpy old
, finished browsing the score, turned around. He had finished conducting an orchestra mute and never once, that was on stage, had turned his gaze to the audience ... Cos'avrebbero thought of that music came from the heart and not from the ear, born within the silence of a exiled mind for years, almost twelve, from the world of Noise and words?
Legend has it that the theater in Vienna exploded in a huge applause, and five times the audience stood up on chairs to greet the old man and his creature, the last one.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Camila Rodriguez Canal 8

Medicine

Despite nearly three years since the delirium of this blog has opened my eyes on too crowded universe of network, I realized that the undersigned has never taken an official position on ... well ... nothing really.

sure this is not to change the good traditions, made mostly of harrowing monologues incomprehensible to the people, but here is that once in a while I would like to clarify a controversial character now defined my existence. Being

medical student son of doctors, is not an enviable thing. Being a medical student and son of doctors do not recommend is something quite annoying. We explore together the earlier rulings: 1 that at the table ever since I can remember none of them is that patients and other symptoms, clinical signs, memories and university training courses, I must say that has left a bitter taste in the mouth for every bite that came later ... especially when you find yourself chewing on the same boring phrases. 2 that there is never a mother, who runs away from the table to the first call, without rest, a cross between home and family and patient, especially without grandparents or relatives who can help, as well as a father you see sometimes in the morning if you get up early and then hang it at home after 9 at night too tired even to answer your infamy, you are slowly developing a total repudiation of that wonderful medical science that are more set on fire among the students of your course - willing to sacrifice diopters for one year and that right (for them) is a great passion. Being the son of three people who have already done the usual path that you take, brings troubling questions about whether your choice was not merely a convenience, a way to let someone else deal with - as the fate or down from there - the problem of what to do your twenty or thirty years ahead. Not to mention the risk of falling in parental relation unwise and unsustainable. 4 Given that the reason 90% of your problems baby / boy / boy / young man, involving blood, mainly old and sick, have developed quite a nuisance, who knows so much visceral hatred towards the above three things.

So the question arises: but why - fucking cazzu cazzu cazzu iu iu iu - you choose to study medicine? (Do not worry, I will be brief and concise, although not actually know the answer.) The truth is that I have not chosen , I just did a test and I came in, then I went forward, as it brings a Cross, now heavier, now lighter ... but still living it as a burden: my weight to endure, to expiate the sin and then do everything else, what is mine, that is my life and my fun ... But the real question is not why I did it, is that I chose to continue, and this because I know people really nice, bright, of which there is some for the first time in 20 years made me feel out of this world ... It 's a good reason for at least six years of mess study? Well for now I do.

There is another issue, far more long-standing, on which I want to take an official position: the nerdismo. I'm not a nerd nor a geek, nor chissacchè of bizarre ... I must say that I discovered that this thing has burned over the years much more than many other offenses, the famous infamone against my mother that I made a split eardrum like an idiot. In my heart I have always known, but until you are there to see him in the eyes of people who look at you and say "but what has this idiot here, but who the fuck says that he studied medicine?" or "Come on, tell it that you do the dams!" or "but you seem to make Thee simulate orgasms every street corner ??"... do not know how sweet the taste of recognition of the merits: they are a jerk, and choice.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Regal Movies In Westfeild

Filotto

My friends, many who do not feel for a lifetime, those who might wonder where that idiot is finished with goggles and the headphones from the questionable color ... I'm here to bring you news once again gray and colorless, perspectives and expectations of nostalgic silence.
When we were together at the same table for this game of cards admit I was lucky, a hand of those that are difficult to forget and on which no one would think 2 times before betting the house ^ ^. And so I do not know if I won or if I lost ... but at least we had fun, right? Even a boy is not particularly brilliant with people, as was I for so long, if he runs well, can really feel a bit 'flamboyant and burn at being the center of the puzzled gaze of strangers, some' idiots, a little ' playful, certainly share taste and virtue of living with little serious things of life, good and bad that (as well as the one undoubted passion for alcoholic drinks, especially if birrose and liqueur ghgh). But now that the cards run so and so, no longer seem to recognize that great player maybe a little 'I have to be deluded ... and then I ask you if you still find the pleasant company of this means cheating.

Apart from the color of the cards you have in hand, a good rule is to try to play the best in every event and win the limits of its capabilities: the ability to read opponents and hide their fortunes can attract more birds to your desktop . With this I am not giving way of the birds (even less if fowl) ... actually, I'm just assuming my recent lack of skill, and especially my inability to achieve the same results with a couple of cards less. I'm not where the latter is a matter of discussion at the moment ^ ^.
hand down then, and let's face it: this game recently that two balls!

But remember the auditions for the next movie (with an erotic scene simulated) made some unfortunate creature on a train? And what about the fines by the controlling officer in plain clothes? uff ... every memory makes me more gray in the afternoon of study. The fashion walk in Perugia, the bodyguard in the premises or on the streets of Florence, measurements of unlikely arches a bit late Gothic-inspired 'anywhere, any night of the Blues (which of memories - the beer mix cuba libre have not had time to clear - even today I can hardly give an order logical), and then the living mannequins, priests coll'esorcismo the fire and salt, the miracles of the blind man who sees the light, but also the recent Planers Fiat, and bullshit to be hard to keep in mind ... this just in 2010 alone. I feel
periphrastic, infrustolato on the right and a bit 'tasty ... Anyway, it is all because of 100 years of war and its repercussions on the financial market indocinonippoungherese, Francesco Ferrucci and his equestrian statue, which always un po' cumulonembica si ritrova non sul primo incrocio, il secondo, dopo aver la detto la parola d'ordine, arrivi fino al platano...