Thursday, April 29, 2010

How To Seal A Concrete Bathtub

Book Fair [Original] Last breaths

Title: last breaths
Fandom: original
Rating: PG-13 for their subject matter (murder)
Word count (Fiumidiparole): 376
Notes : For the third week of Kinkos
WWF (Warning Fest Weeks) of Fiumidiparole ; prompt: breath

Breath your gift of love to me
(Midge Ure, "Breath")

I understood a couple of times a year, usually in spring and autumn.
When the sky is yellow and cloudy and gloomy day for many days in a row and simply leave the house charge me with anguish, then I know it's time.
I realize the things that my eye starts to set, independent of my will. Women's faces light makeup, breasts bullies who try to escape the clothes, long hair, thin necks that reach: beautiful things, wrong things. I should not so hard to fix people, but, I repeat, does not depend on my will. It is not madness. It is simply time.
not last long: a few days, a week at most. The time to do so. Then the sky in my eyes, he becomes an unlikely blue and white clouds, white and white.
The first time it happened, as if I did not realize it was as if an outside force had taken possession of my hands and guide me. I do not remember almost anything-a strangled groan, the pulse of the veins on my hands. I do not remember who he was, or what he looked like.
The second time, however, I was fully aware of what I was doing. Her name
Silvana, was one of my best friends.
simply embraced her. And then I began to tighten the arms, again and again: "Angela, you're doing wrong ...."
silenced her with a whisper, and went over my face to hers. I pushed her against the wall and ran my hands around his neck, pressing deeper and deeper.
He died in my arms, with a slight gasp. I loved her deeply.
The third, fourth, fifth ... I lost count of women and of the time. One of my neighbor. A girl at the park. A strange sight on the streets. The
I loved almost all of a painful love, when their last breath caressed my face.
The last breath una donna è il regalo più bello che si possa ricevere. Ogni respiro si assomiglia, ma l’ultimo porta dentro di sé qualcosa di speciale. Qualcosa di luminoso, che mi fa amare.
È questa la verità: io amo gli ultimi respiri, amo le donne che me lo regalano; in quell’istante, io amo.
Uccidere è un effetto collaterale.
E poi il cielo diventa di un azzurro improbabile. E le nuvole bianche. Come i respiri. 



Friday, April 23, 2010

Ver Foto De Juste Bibe

[RPF] Among the French who are angry and newspapers that

Titolo:  Tra i francesi che si incazzano e i giornali che svolazzano
Fandom:
RPF Pairing: Bartali / Coppi
Rating: R

Word count (Fiumidiparole): 1071
Notes: 1) p0rnosa For the third week of
WWF (Warning Weeks Fest) of Fiumidiparole ; prompt: RPF Cycling, Bartali / Coppi, after the race. * scatters flowers under the feet of anyone who has this wonderful thing to prompt P0rn Fest 2009 *

2) The whole human story is told of pure invention, to avoid complaints. Everything else, However, it is true: the stages, nicknames, miles. Everything, even the photograph


3) All other notes are at the bottom, otherwise you spoil the surprise. And break your soul who just wants to read without getting blowjobs mind, of course

this day and sunset orange
and swells of memories that you do not know
I like to stay here
dusty on the highway, if you want to go, go
[...]
Among the French are angry

and newspapers flying around there is some 'wind, barking
the campaign and there's a blue moon at the end of

("Bartali", Paolo Conte)

Then there

against blue sky with snow that you sing and then down around

no time to stop
to fall behind
(Coppi, Gino Paoli)

"A man only in command, his shirt is blue and white, his name is Fausto Coppi. The Campionissimo makes unforgettable the day today. Tenth stage of the thirty-ninth Tour de France: Lausanne - L'Alpe-d'Huez. Mileage: duecentosessantotto.
Coppi takes the yellow jersey after having transferred on loan for a day of team-mate Andrea Carrea. As we watch the images of the arrival and ceremony, in which ours is flooded with flowers, the photographer Carlo Martini tells us of a photograph, we are sure, will become history ... "
He moved quickly from item Ferretti still did not understand how it was possible that even in France, to take his television RAI. He did not want to hear a story that he had lived: the journalist was good, and it was also the photographer in question, but surely would have blown the thing up to make it to national proportions. Would address all once finished the Tour now, all he needed was a shower, followed by a light supper, and then a good sleep. He was tired, and the next day's stage was just as grueling, but even that was going to win: the arrival was at Sestrières, and could not disappoint the fans its region.
then slid beautifully out of the hall, where about fifty people staring mesmerized as the little television, and Corinth in his room.

had not even had time to undress, when they knocked on the door: three light taps, could announce that only one person. Went to open it, and, without looking, stepped aside, and entered Gino Bartali.
" Brava, Campionissimo," greeted him. Fausto
pulled up to force a corner of his mouth in a sort of smile: "Thanks."
"Do you think I will be talking about for a long time of that photo?" Said Gino.
"At least until you tell them which of us was to pass the bottle another, "said Fausto.
Gino became thoughtful, "So we will not say anything they think what they want. So never stop talking about it. " Fausto idea
smiled: "I do not think it will be a long story, however: in a few months if they do not remember any more."
"We'll see ..." was the reply of the oldest.
They were silent for a while ': Gino looked out the window, staring at who knows what, Fausto wandered around the room, moving the few ornaments the squares and straightening.
"So you are tired enough?" Gino asked suddenly, without looking at him.
Fausto, however, turned around, "What do you mean?" He asked, puzzled.
"I mean that I win the stage tomorrow," came the reply. Gino continued to stare through the glass.
"Are you sure?".
"More than safety. On this stage, you have won a fortune, but do not have the right to deal with two physical hard work of its kind in a row. Tomorrow, the stage is mine. " Gino's tone was very firm, Fausto but found it a little childish.
"What happened? Are you tired of always being behind me? "He asked, taking him around good-naturedly.
Then the other turned around: "You were born to annoy me, water carrier."
"I would not want you attributing too many merits, Ginettaccio, Fausto smiled.
Gino smiled, and stared for a long, intense moment, before approaching a little 'and kissing.
Nothing soft and romantic, of course: If Ferretti had witnessed the scene, he would have described as "one of many exchanges of liquids that true sportsmen do not deny the opponent in trouble. "
was right: you need to kiss. The hands on the shoulders of the other, half-closed eyes, their lips was a thin greed, like the one you take when you're in the middle of the Stelvio, pushing hard on the pedals of a bicycle that weighs fourteen pounds good . When you're on a climb like this, a sip of water makes you regain your breath, blood and legs. For them, at that time, was worth the same speech, and that kiss was to forget the tiredness, the bad and the muscles fatigue proved. And after a minute, they were both naked, tied to each other under the covers, always kissing with more enthusiasm, sucking each other off the sweat from the skin.
We would see nothing wrong even if had they pointed out: for them it was a way to release tension after the race. They did nothing wrong, after all.
Moreover, we liked each other, often to the contrary notwithstanding. Among them was estimated. And yes, even affection. Confidence unconditionally. If it were not, on the other hand, Fausto would have never given up so easily Gino, who, however, carried him over the edge of pleasure every time. Every so often, haste, urgency, and sometimes the irritation brought the oldest not to prepare the other properly. And this was one of those cases. But Fausto took no notice, too focused on Gino's chest pressed against his back: the skin was so hot that seemed to catch fire at any moment.
When my friend was all inside him, began to push steadily. The times when they ran directly toward the same goal could not be counted, but in these cases, they ran together, which is quite different.
"Come" Fausto whispered suddenly, "Come inside me, before me."
and Gino did not pray.

Later, washed, dried and coated, Fausto was preparing to go to dinner. Gino, who was to return to his room, he paused in the doorway and turns to look at each other, "Fausto", he called it.
"Yes?".
"I take away the curiosity?".
"If I can."
"Why do you have asked in that tone? Usually prefer to ... well, you usually want ... before, "Gino is embarrassed.
Fausto smiled, crooked, "Oh, it's simple: because you were behind me, as always, I thought I'd ask you a kindness, making you reach for first time for a change '...." Gino
stared at him open-mouthed, not wanting to believe his ears! Then he decided to resolve the issue as always: "water," he muttered between his teeth, "We'll see tomorrow." And he left slamming the door. The

next day, Fausto Coppi won the eleventh stage of the Tour de France 1952.
Ferretti made his usual commentary perfect, but he did not notice the exchange of glances between the two opponents if he had noticed, would certainly have seen the smile in the direction of Campionissimo Ginettaccio. E Bartali respond with a wink.
Probably, if he had realized all this would have translated all with: "Fausto Coppi routs his opponent on the road. But Gino Bartali not intimidate you, and his words are a challenge: the stage today is not over yet, Dipper. "
They finished the stage as always: under the sheets. Bartali won, but the yellow jersey remained in pairs.


Notes:
The sentence starting, "one man in command, his shirt is blue and white, his name is Fausto Coppi", Ferretti has really delivered, but the stage was the third last of the Tour of Italy in 1949. I do not know if he never repeated, nor in 1952 when he was still doing the commentary, but these are small that I have taken poetic license. Probably not a realistic thing in the 50s in France took the RAI, but in the end, there very little realistic in this story. So, take this as a poetic license.

Coppi Bartali called "water carrier" during a stage of the Tour of 1940: the Passo Rolle, Coppi was a crisis, could no longer ride. He stopped at the roadside and began to cry, decided to retire. Bartali, who was just ahead, given the scene, turned back, and using all kind of ways, urged him to resume the race. "Water" as far as I know, is a term used in Tuscany with derogatory tone towards those who do not drink wine, as if to say "you're just a man." Since Coppi was Piedmontese (and therefore highly likely did not know the double meaning of the word took on the lips of Bartali) and has always been a teetotaler, did not hear anything that might offend him. In fact he did not take offense: harassed by his contrary, also won the Tour of Italy that year.



Monday, April 19, 2010

Cbc Show Signs Of Hiv

flutter on the Seventh Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[...... seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme
#1 • a song
#2 • a picture

#3 • a book/ebook/fanfic
                               #4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                               #6 • a quote
                               #7 • whatever tickles your fancy



girasoli *_____*
amo *______*

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Hard And Bloated Stomach After Ovulation

on the Sixth Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[...six geese a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme
#1 • a song
#2 • a picture

#3 • a book/ebook/fanfic
                               #4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                               #6 • a quote
                               #7 • whatever tickles your fancy


" La Luce not remove the 'Shadow ,
' s
Shadow remove the Light . The
Day play with you, then t'abbandona:
will
Night your mistress "

(" The bar under the sea " ;, Stefano Benni)

because lately I feel so, my pessimism has returned to the big town.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Opening Prayer For A Debut

[Original] This is the love in my

Title: This is the love in my
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
Word count ( FiumiDiParole): 318
Notes: 1)
fluffosa for the second week of WWF (Warning Fest Weeks) of FiumiDiParole .
2) title cheerfully stolen from one of the songs on "Add a seat at the table."


That elderly couple sitting on a bench in Piazza Castello, is exactly the model of my future life. They
chatting up, perhaps their children or grandchildren, or maybe the neighbor's cat continues to eat the leaves hydrangea ("For it would be to be diluted by the kilo here, from the nen Téne Duert fnesta by d'noite. "" Ah, but t'lu sas cum'alé Faita, CULA there: in the à nen tut to the bosc sust). * 1 *
I do not know exactly what the topic they are talking about: they are too distant to hear. But I can watch them and imagine their conversation, the tone they use, the light laughter.
He has his hands clasped and resting on the knob of the walking stick, she fiddles with his glasses: puts, removes them, cleans them with a corner of the handkerchief, forgave them.
densely chatting, completely ignoring any noise: honking, braking, tram. They seem to be under a glass bell. The heads together, hands that sometimes are very close. He holds his head slightly turned to his wife, she sometimes removes a hair from the lapel of his jacket.
smile often. They smile when they pass a couple hand in hand when approaching a bird pecking at the crumbs, when a child runs a bit 'sprawling to the ice, dragging his mother ("What a beautiful cit, t'las vist?". "Yes, and cur prudent to bin!"). * 2 *
Now they are going. He settles down his hat, move the stick in his right hand and extends his arm to his wife. She finally bestrides glasses, gets up and takes him under his arm. Exude love in every gesture, even the simplest.
They walk calmly towards Via Garibaldi. He is waving the stick to give something to a window of the Palazzo della Regione. I hear her laugh a little and hit him up on his arm (Lasu Tlas vist? Fin'na the Culumba to the nen to an pì Curago of shit there 'nsima. "" Oh, Giuan! Piantla there! "). * 3 *
then disappear around the corner.



* 1 * "We should tell him, that there, not to keep the window open at night." "Ah, but you know how it is made, that there: is not right with his head" (Read: not all the wood dry)

* 2 * "What a beautiful child, did you see?". "Yes, and it runs just fine!"

* 3 * "Did you see there? Even the pigeons have the nerve to shit up there. " "Oh, John! Stop!"

Whipple Procedure Images

on the Fifth Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[... five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Even
• # 1 song was
# 2 • a picture

# 3 • a book / ebook / fanfic
# 4 • a site
  #5 • a youtube clip
                               #6 • a quote
                            # 7 • Whatever Tickles your fancy

Why is brilliant (and also because I find that it is one of the nicest guys I've ever seen).

Thursday, April 15, 2010

2008 Honda Pilot License Plate Holder

on the Fourth Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[... four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme
• # 1 song in
• # 2 in picture

# 3 • a book / ebook / fanfic
# 4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                             # 6 • straight
; # 7 • Whatever Tickles your fancy


Spinster Ink is a cartoonist BRILLIANT.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Kmbd Bus Stop Chennai

on the THIRD Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[...three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme

#1 • a song
#2 • a picture

#3 • a book/ebook/fanfic
                               #4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                             # 6 • straight
; # 7 • Whatever Tickles your fancy



" In the eighteenth century lived in France a man, between the figures most brilliant and wicked of that brilliant and wicked non-poor figures. Here is his story.
His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille , and if his name, contrary to the name of other brilliant shows such as de Sade, Saint-Just, Fouché, Bonaparte, and so on. Today has been forgotten. is certainly not because Grenouille them back to these most famous sons of darkness for arrogance, contempt for others, immorality, wickedness short, but because his genius and only ambition was in an area that does not leave in history Track: in the fleeting realm of odors.

At the time of which we speak, in the city ruled a stench barely conceivable to us modern.
The streets stank of manure, the courtyards of urine, the stairwells of rotten wood and rat droppings, the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat, non-ventilated rooms stank of stale dust, the rooms bedrooms of greasy sheets, duvets and the damp smell of pungent and sweet pots.
the chimneys was the stench of sulfur from the tanneries was the smell of solvents, the stench of dried blood from slaughterhouses.
People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes, from the mouths came the stench of rotting teeth, from stomachs and a smell of onions from the bodies, when they were no longer so young, was a smell of old cheese and sour milk and cancer.
rivers stank, stank squares, the churches stank, stench was under bridges and palaces.
The peasant stank as the priest, the apprentice as the wife of the master, all the aristocracy stank, even the king stank, stank like a wild animal, and the Queen like an old goat, summer and winter . In fact, in the eighteenth century there was still no limits on disruptive action of bacteria ie so there was no human activity, either constructive or destructive, or event living on the rise or decline, which was not accompanied by stench.

And of course the biggest stink was in Paris, because Paris was the largest city in France.
And in Paris there was also a place where the stench reigned more than ever, hell, between Rue de la Rue aux Fers and Ferronnerie, namely the Cimetière des Innocents.
For eight hundred years had brought here the Hôtel-Dieu hospital deaths and the surrounding parishes, for eight hundred years, day after day, dozens of corpses had been brought here with carts and overturned into long it was, for eight hundred years crypts and charnel houses were built up, layer by layer, bone and bones. And only later, on the eve of the French Revolution, when some were dangerously landslide of corpses and the stench of overflowing cemetery led the neighbors no longer a simple protest, but to actual insurrection, the cemetery was finally closed and abandoned and millions of bones and skulls were cast in spades in the catacombs of Montmartre, and was replaced by a square with a food market.

Here, then, in the most foul of all the kingdom, was born July 17, 1738 Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.
"


Monday, April 12, 2010

Nico Robin & Nami Hot

on the Second Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[...two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme

#1 • a song
#2 • a picture
#3 • a book/ebook/fanfic
                               #4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                               #6 • a quote
                               #7 • whatever tickles your fancy



I Valar benedicano Leo Ortolani.
Amen.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Building Checklist Template

on The First Day of Xmas my true love sent to me ...

[...a partridge in a pear tree.]

The Seven Days Meme

#1 • a song
#2 • a picture
#3 • a book/ebook/fanfic
                               #4 • a site
                               #5 • a youtube clip
                               #6 • a quote
                               #7 • whatever tickles your fancy


We are not together here
though we lie entwined
to make room for the other presence
we both draw back in our minds
I have a prophecy
threatening to spill into words
this growing certainty
of over

There once was a time I was sure of the bond
when my hands and my tongue and my thoughts were enough

we are the same but our lives move along
and the third one between replaces what once was love

Freedom is being alone
I fear liberation
but something more alive than silence
swallows conversation
no pleasing drama
in subtle averted eyes
the swelling fermata
as the chord dies
There's No Denying
we feel the third one we do

I'm tired of hiding and so are you


"Between", Vienna Teng

Friday, April 9, 2010

How To Make Letter Of Disconnection

[Scrubs] Look but do not touch

Title: look but not touch
Fandom: Scrubs
Rating: G
Word count ( FiumiDiParole): 303
Spoiler (s): none , inserted at will in any season, provided that Kelso has already won the supply of muffins for life ... XD
Notes:
for the first week of WWF (Warning Fest Weeks) of FiumiDiParole , prompt: voyeur.

"... and so, once in college, I made a bet with some players from the football team, and I determined that if I lost, I would have filled with honey. I lost the bet. But the same was very funny because the next day, leaves a giant monster frightened the entire campus. It was a glorious moment. Of course, when the boys realized that the monster was me, since the leaves were stuck because of the honey ... Dr. Cox? Where did he go? "

Even this time I was able to tell one of my anecdotes, Dr. Cox, but now I could not waste time chasing him all over the hospital: My sixth sense told me that Turk he needed my help.
There it is. Hey, it's serious this time: staring, glassy eyes, abundant salivation. He can not stop watching. I have to do something, before Carla realizes what is happening, or things got even worse.


"Hey, Turk! What are you doing? ".
"Not now, JD."
"But ...".
"Do not now! Can not you see that show? ".
I follow the pointing finger with the eyes of Turk: "It is indeed a show, man, but what if Carla will find in this condition?".
"Come on, dude: Carla knows that the only way for me to vent! And then, look at the scene: it is biting, you know? Before he left on that side there, slowly. Then she licked a bit 'over the top. And now? Oh, my God, JD! You see? He broke in half! Look, the luxurious chocolate is leaking! A heart of soft cream. "

Dr. Kelso looks up: "Turkelton, if not immediately end up spying on me and my muffin, I'll have to call the police."
Turk Poor, wounded soul to a muffin: "Come on, Bear. I am sure I still have a snack sugar free chocolate. "
"Thank you, JD: yes you know you save me from perdition."



Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Apollo 13 And Newton's Law Of Motion

linen fiber hemp! (Random title)

* Attempt to kill herself with a pin *

                 
 
 
 


WWF @ FiumiDiParole

First week (that is, until Friday. NINE Friday in April, the day when I take the exam in architecture so that my mother's eyes cables, and the examination for which I still have to study half of the program. But this is a PANDA, understand? How could I leave it there? * _ *) Theme January.
I'll go for "Voyeur", but I'm not sure yet.