How To Lace Up Converse Doubles

To keep your brain trained, and above all not to lose familiarity with the words and the music that comes out, often compose in a language that is not mine. The choice is not so difficult: English, Latin, greek because I rarely vocabulary, and German at the elementary level. The effort to put together words that not know by heart all the meanings and context, compels me to be brief, precise, to re-check many times to do it all over again if it does not satisfy me, and trying a myriad of meanings in the dictionary to be truly sure I'm saying what I mean (and do not reduce me to use a word correctly, but inappropriate for the context). Contact with the words - not phrases or periods, but with the minimum words, there, present in their physicality - reminds me of what I deal with every time I take the pen in hand.

Those of you who read Journey to the Center of the Earth perhaps not remember the lines Latin Verne to write his Icelandic Renaissance, Arne Saknussem:

In Sneffels Yokulis craterem kem delibat Umbrian Scartaris Iulii intra calendas descends, audas viator, et centrum attinges land. Kod feces. Arne Saknussem.

A point in Verne simulated well for the Latin 'service' and dall'ortografia phonetic probably had to have a Nordic scholar of that time. I said to myself, rereading: how it would be in Latin hexameters, maybe inscribed on a stone, right on the path that leads to the Sneffels?

And after three hours, two dictionaries consulted, and a dozen consumed by the ink sheet, here's a first version of the message Saknussem:

In Sneffels Yokulis craterem, non tibi notum

Ni tetigisset eum Scartaris uerticis umbra,

Planitierum cum tepefecit Iulius aequor,

Inque suis descende, audax peregrine, calendis:

Attingesque, diu tenebra uolitatus in atra,

Centrum terrarum: ted adloquitur qui fecit,

Arne Saknussem, glacie spatians Islandae.

Mi si perdonerà la costruzione non correttissima di spatior with the simple ablative, the genitive plural not attested to Planities, the striking archaism ted the the of tepefecit short, and the casual use of the prosody of non-Latin words, but I could while taking some license. Moreover, this is only a first version.

Blob Like Cervical Mucus

Training Bodies (2)

You have no idea of \u200b\u200bhow trickle stories with music, the dark and alone. The music gives the font to the characters: it gives generic cut with a hatchet, so I can take action through imagination knows no sophistry and persuasion, but the violence and calm, strong colors and the harmonious, the complicated plots and the obvious. With ears surrounded by an air of Gluck I wrote my best stuff, because it was within reason, and the reason he was there, bright, laid flat into the top of the air, reinforced by the vocal line, and shoved in the end, because where we started, it ends there. Writing, I knew the same things music. I would have never written to the dead, devils, hands that strangle and blood, if you died in my time with Electra in 'Idomeneo .

The ears have written my work. They saw the plots lie in the counterpoint, gave words and thoughts insolence of a violin in a concert for strings, they wanted to talk about the apocalypse that the music left bare logic flew with wings spread, as far as the cage ' eye was a bullet away.

Insulin Needle Stabbed

Organs (1)

Some people see things with his eyes unthinkable. Someone drowned in bblù. Someone looking through the walls. Some people see with your mind and do not see anything that does not like it.

But I have my eyes slave. I can not see any more than it actually is. I am a prisoner of real : my eyes do not know that deal with that, and evil can not fail to see, and when they see, often hated, and always remember, even years after, insults, teasing, humiliation. I am often asked how do I get the memory I have: easy: look at one thing, the bare, the atomized, sucking away all I can take - and mind you, is not necessarily a deep look Often is simply hungry for every detail, especially if those I give special anxiety or fear, or anger. And then, inevitably remember: everything I see, if the conditions are conducive, I will affect the brain like a hot groove.

do not know who said that the eyes are the instrument of envy, and it is true: if a careless God will one day save me, I'm afraid I'll have quite a few centuries the mountain real saving, with a two blades of lead nailed over his eyes.

I am often seen as he lowered his head, and seem not to notice what is around me. And 'I do not see why : I disconnected the optic nerve from his body, and I am suggesting two things with which it could have fun. But to imagine the worlds, I must be blind . I can not invent with reality before his eyes. I must have seen and stored before and if I try to make it when I have before, is not a good result.

And the real work, I do it with ears.

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