Saturday, October 18, 2008

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"Forty" - A-Zine October 2008 on the site of Asimov.

Well, apparently, sometimes miracles are repeated. I would not want that now people take me for a writer in the leg. Still are not.
At least not as I would like to be.
The story "Forty " is the A-Zine No October 4, 2008 on the site of Asimov.
Not bad, looking back! Hello


Piero

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Tale - Forty


so cold I had this morning, Alex. Only you can understand me. I went in the kitchen and looked out through the glass door. Pongo wagging his tail. He knows how to treat it, I will. Other than the bitch.
I looked on the table. This morning there was over a seventy-two, white and green in the jar. And then a eighty-two, in the glass, with a little 'coffee.
I closed my eyes. I saw only forty. Black, red background.
You know how I am. Just wake up are always pissed off. Mr. eighty-two seventy-two and her boyfriend flew in the toilet. As hard as marble, Ale!
Already I was in the bathroom, I did, Ale. Forty
. Shit. But you how did you get?
My mother had gone out. Today, meatballs, Ale. I play what I want. How do I? Will be eight hundred, at best.
'm back in the room. I put the heat on the ball. I nuzzling the heater under the blanket and turned on the hairdryer at the most. I made it, this system against the cold. What do you think, Al?
I turned on the TV. At that time there is nothing, just cartoons and advertising. But that program was on the spring-summer collection. What the fuck, Ale. But have you seen?
I had to change the channel. And there sweets, chocolate! My stomach was hurting.
But it happens to you, Alex? I think not. To thee not. Can not you ever plan to go to the kitchen. Should I drink a tablespoon of vinegar, as you do to make me go like this.
Indeed. I take a laxative. Here, good idea, I thought. I bought the other day, I still have it. I get a little 'sore tummy, but at least I do not think of anything else.
Nothing. I finished.
Quaranta.
At one point I woke up. You know when you look around and say where are they? My head was spinning. What the fuck am I doing in the kitchen, I wondered.
I looked at his fingers. Then on the table. Ale, if I was given a knife, they would not find even a little 'blood.
Before me there is only a jar of Nutella, empty.
Ale! But you saw what the hell have I done? Ale, you have to help me, not I can do it alone! You are my partner or not?
I ran into the bathroom and I slipped the brush in his mouth. That shit Hazelnut I have, I thought.
I saw the red spot. At first I was scared. Now I know that's a good sign. It means that everything came out. Think about that before you explain to me seemed to peel an apple. But I am stupid or not? Then
vomiting when I feel good. God I feel like I have control. I decide.
I throw under the rug with the hair dryer. I felt tired, Ale. I dozed off.
At one point, the voice of the bitch woke me up. Guess what '? I bought the meatballs!
Fuck. So even if they eat Pongo.
But like you used to get naked in front of you the mirror and to eat slowly? Were not you cold?
I wonder if when one dies it feels cold.
But what I'm thinking! In a few days I'll be fine. I will be beautiful! In fact, now I'm going to get up and running. At least one hour. I cover well and I make five times around the park. Twelve hundred. Twelve hundred fewer calories. Then this afternoon I come to find.
The bitch I hid the suit. It says that I have to stop going to the park every day, which is dangerous. How nice
slip without having to unbutton your pants, Alex, you were right. Then this afternoon I come to find. I come to see how can you not eat with all those doctors around. Only I know what you need, Ale. But why not leave us in peace?
Forty pounds. Cut eight. A few more days, Ale.

* winner of the A-Zine of the month of October 2008 on Asimov.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

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I wish you smile


Quiet time

thoughts cumbersome,

intrinsic revelations

pills new secrets, hidden behind the face

asleep,

in appearance.

Pupils cry for help;

unconscious of being seen,

look,

observed

set the sound of nothing,

envelops us in machines off,

circulation beats faster, from angry

feelings.

waiting for the light to illuminate the dark side,

the shadow of thought already chewed

in adipose past.

you would like to smile!

Like the sun after the storm, the lightning chased

that both are bad!

Now close your eyes and rest,

I'll be the last call before the morning!

dave-