Yellow Confermation Dress

Apocrypha, Part I

diane,

began to find other ancient texts, not dated (except for files that carry them). in the absence of more to say, hey you.

senhornumeroseis the apocryphal gospels (1/muitos):

my biggest fear the loss is how easy I just got used to them. this fear develops into a nuisance to the interior face a certain coldness, a selfish detachment from what is around me, and the glimpse that maybe all I have in my relationships with the world is a superficial connection, puerile.

sometimes I think that fear is something older half-forgotten remnant of a persona that I've been and am no more. I feel as if, realizing the floor of the unspeakable things with their cycles start and end, and accept that losses and gains part of these cycles, I was betraying the devotion that supposedly I should have things that are important for me. just being an idiot double trouble: the trouble with the attachment to things and a certain guilt by noting that this attachment, however strong it may seem, is as fragile as sand.

good, I never said it was not complicated.

my sense of satisfaction has different facets, but some of them become applicants. the pleasure of discovery is one, and the search for comfort each other. not necessarily physical comfort (although this also manifests itself in-between), but above all psychological comfort. details ranging from how furniture is configured as a protective environment where I want to take refuge Small smells, tastes, sounds, and thermal sensations across the room at certain times, impervious to the sight of everyone except my (pretend). little things that Cayce pollard understand. Cayce Pollard is to be someone really, pragmatically speaking.

the integrity of my memories is one of those havens of comfort. happens fear in the transition between routine and memory. "Death does not bother me, but rather die," they say. is a bit of it: the distance between drop a comfortable routine and get to establish it as a souvenir haven, this time of burial, it is that makes me anxious.

distress, like the devil is in the details.

there are days when I am far from myself that these thoughts volatilize; come and go between a traffic signal and a return, and vanish in the dust, leaving a taste of unconsciousness (in the sense of the word psychotherapy) and abandonment. My thoughts have rarely lasted long enough to turn words, do not fix themselves in time to manifest. Reference to Bjork is immediate: "Today is the last day that use words, they are gone, lost their meaning - do not work anymore."

one of the few things I learned watching this for years and years is the need to give time to things, expected that the crust of spoilage know the right time, the turning point. until that happens, I continue to surrounding sounds, smells and psychological comforts that I can.

things are as they are now more than ever been before.

" How much of the day can you sit around Letting all your feelings
drag underground?
I do not care and the care I
Because I want it
If I Know That it's out there everywhere.

I'm on the dark side of the street,
Not the light side of the street.

It's packed at 2am.
've got no coat, Are you on
your own?
I'm into you. When are you going
home?
Get into me. "

EBTG," Lullaby of Clubland "(Moody - 1999)

Dear Aunt Agony

3rd Birthday Park Invitation Wording

: The Ego Has Landed:

, Mr.

Number 6, aka Claudio Delamare, circa 2005.

Girbaud Outlet Online

: the invisible fat:

Dear Diane,

The post is about an old subject, but that was deliberate. I thought it best to call attention to the matter outside the heat of the discussion (which was not well heated and air took more offense to the association to an image that obese the 'belly' of the NYT itself). interessandte I found the placement Arnaldo Bloch on the subject, since ese is a view long championed by many groups that discuss the image of the obese in the media and the psychological impression generated by this image, which changes almost complete mockery of the social invisibility.

Note on the repercussion is only for first place.

"Czech is portrayed as obese by the Brazilian 'NYT' , copyright O Estado de S. Paul, 01/28/2005
Clarissa Thome and Paul Soter

"The Czech naturalized Italian Suchopárková Milena says he intends to sue the New York Times for publishing photo of her and two girlfriends in bikinis at beach Ipanema without permission. The image of the three foreign illustrated a matter of controversial reporter Larry Rohter from Brazil on obesity, published in 13 days.

Of the three, the only one who remains in Brazil is Milena, 58. Located by the newspaper O Globo in Foz do Iguacu, she said she became a target of ridicule from friends. Milena landed in Rio yesterday and was amazed at the amount of reporters. 'For a little meat was splashed across newspapers. Seems a bit of an exaggeration, "reacted with good humor.

Rohter's story 'slender beaches, where the calories are on display' was based on the IBGE survey, that 40% of Brazilian adults are overweight. Rohter, however, did not interview the women photographed.

Miles said he was not offended by having appeared in a report on obesity, but because the picture is taken without your knowledge. 'I consider myself a simple person, talkative, I am not racist. But I hate rude people. To me, they (Rohter and photographer John Maier) were rude because they published my photo without permission. "

She said that once he returns to Prague will seek a lawyer, has sent a letter to the New York Times and still received no response. A Brazilian friend Claudia Milena Parsans suggested that require tickets as a reward spa and a month in Brazil. Milena smiled, recognizing that is overweight. 'But do not consider myself obese, "she said, which is 1.75 meters and 90 kilos. "It is my strong constitution." The Czech

said his intention was to arrive in Brazil a little slimmer, but succumbed to barbecues and caipirinhas. 'I like everything. "

Milena come to Rio three years ago on holiday. This time I brought two friends, Ludmila Kamberskaed Seidlerova and Hanna, also photographed on the beach. Hanna gained over the past five years after suffering a hormonal dysfunction and was shaken by the report. 'Everyone knows that here there are beautiful girls. Let him go get the girl from Ipanema, and not me, a poor old woman. "

Last year, Larry Rohter wrote a story about the alleged alcoholism of President Lula, who came to ask for the cancellation of the relevant work visa, but was reviewing the decision.

The Times publishes in today's edition a note in which he regrets the mistake of having Brazilian identified as European women. The newspaper reporter her disclaims any liability in the incident. Rohter was in Chile when the photographs were made. The Director of Public Relations for The Times, Toby Usnik, reiterated to the State 'full confidence' in his journal accordingly. "



... then comment on Arnaldo Bloch:

" Fat is beautiful ", copyright O Globo, 28/01/2005
Arnaldo Bloch

" One of the most interesting repercussions of the case Czech Girls of Ipanema is the realization of absolute horror that most of the people of Rio, especially the South Zone, has the female obesity.

First there was the outrage provoked by the publication of the photos in the 'New York Times. Those horrific images (obese human females) in Brazilian newspapers and on the website of the NYT scratched gloss of our great symbol of the Girl Ipanema Corpitcho ultimate expression of the beautiful city. For Rio de Ipanema, the beach is an Apollonian hanging garden, where the appearance of an obese woman is spectral.

Now that the mistake of taunting New York Times' was discovered by photographer Marco Antonio Cavalcanti, GLOBE, a cloud of relief seems to refresh the city along with the rains of the week.

We all know that fat in Rio golden sun and salt. Those who have courage to go to the beach looking for points that are less exposed points of Ipanema.

But deep down, deep down, is like an illusion, as if the essence of Rio was curvaceous and fat-free, guitar perfect dark and resonating and making the waves break with more grace.

happens to be there in the background are the fat of the Deep River corridor in their rooms, afraid to face the revulsion they cause in the frigid Betties in macho steroids and paintbrushes in liposuction deformed.

Let's imagine that all fat locals solve their problems with the city's soul (and his soul) and they were the sun of Ipanema on Sunday, play attention (and the already cramped space) with hot, the healed and bulimics spew out of chocolate? Would make a beautiful photo essay.

'Fat woman' has become, for many and many, synonymous with ugly, problematic, boring, uninteresting. Think of fat as a multiple, rich universe is always out of fashion, despite the efforts of specialty shops. But on a scale that starts in the false-thin, passes through the bigger women and chubby, and ends in Gordon, there are a whole range of shapes, styles and psyches.

quasi-chubby and plump women are often sensational, sensuality and intense fire, and a beauty to the party for those who appreciate more skin than bones. The gordon, is less palatable to most tastes in force, have their captives when they know it affects sex.

And here we talk of aesthetics and sensuality. But we can mention those that turn into fat divas, with their long dresses and their fans, sweating charm in the halls, while clueless dumbed can not count one to ten.

But who are wondering about the conversation? Who is in search of irony, charm, content? Try to call a dumb blonde of dumb. Sometimes it does not need: it is common, lately, to anticipate and go Antinha warning:

- Look, I'm completely dumb blonde, you know?

Now try saying that in recent weeks his donkey won a tired love handles at the edges. The beatings will eat your joe.

This is not about to apologize obesity, because for many people it is a health problem that interferes with the quality and quantity of life.

Still, even when obesity is a disease, who are there are people with personality, voice, humor, gist. And when a fat or a fat kick the bucket, any celebration becomes more lively.

Long live the fat. Gordotas including Ipanema, so humiliated and insulted throughout history. Put on your bikini or swimsuit, women's weight. Come out to the streets. Mix It Up on Tour Nine girls, and the other, the hill, Ceara, Bahia, Brazil and even the Czech Republic. "

Halloween Sayings Invitations

BOTH sides

Dear Diane,

sifted my room the other day, looking for aa "class", a booklet published by the Roland Barthes Cultrix with their initial class at the College de France. was an indication of (Marcello) Larcher, when I expressed a desire to read "mythology," it also. this "lesson", Barthes cites in that language sometime eh defined not by what it allows you to do, but by the action of speech she confines. other day I was thinking about focusing on how I manifest in relation to various Cóias - how do I set my path and purpose diverting me from what I discover not be my focus, or as the force behind most of the things I write this exactly in that cannot or not say.

thought about it, so flippant way, ateh, and perceived my limitations in the ways that could actually be traced, whether those who planned to go. Today I had an uncomfortably realistic perception that I may never actually be able to read or all the books I have, the more all I want. it would take me too oiled a combination of time and discipline, and I see no surface of the two I have left today. the irony is that last week I complained about the stress of information overload, and here I am eager to consume the world in words.

eh my room a shrine to lost histories. sometimes, just a leaf found by chance, or a specific playlist to activate a facet Piscean lost on me (provavellmente thing from my lunar sign, or whatever) and make me go to a specific time, years ago, so vividly and enhance further I would almost swear that I'm even lah, living all over again. to worsen when eh a lover of books, movies and music as I am (and I speak not in a pretentious gourmet level of a junkie but even if) such absences of dreams can be very, very common. but do not deny that not infrequently turn leaves a strange feeling of abandonment and incompleteness, especially when it feeds the dreamer realizes that although plans for the expectation of living them is delicious, no one lives through self expectations and promises, only.

Hah moments when, after so many missteps and promises you make yourself for change and self-correction, the only sensible thing and just distantly expected to happen eh a punishment - or, to be lighter, an effective result, inevitably facing many relapses error followed before that we can once again take the first step toward corrections aas. Today I feel this unspeakable consequence on my heels, and divide my heart between ehtica sure that she would need to happen and my Jungian plot twists that never happen to qu.

always thought that if I were one of vihtimas John Doe, I would be through laziness, greed and not by ohbvia.

and with each passing hour, these and other worries will have themselves to be sublimated before the full week and poucs hours of sleep I still need to wait. I have only heard a little more request, somewhat more than damien rice, and remember that among the dead and injured are still more things to evil than to good, more for me than against me.

for now.

Riddle Football Helmets

dear diane,

was something I thought as I stared at the bathroom mirror at the exit of the cinema.

is much talk about "sharing experiences" but seldom stop to realize that this is a great nonsense. do not share experiences, because their perception is always unique, and often transferable. it's like virtual reality: you are there, but not really, because deep down what you hear, feel or sense is not really lived. so what you have, "real" is a euphemism of experience, an unrealistic figure that has little to do with whatever is being said or told by those who wished to share.

felt it in the output of the hours. there was nothing there to be shared, not only for myself but for others. what happened to a greater or lesser extent, was a mutual comfort, an attempt to try to stifle the good will of a spirit of deep silence that seemed to all.

was well with the hours, and has thus been closer.

looking in the bathroom mirror, watching the wires gray gaining more space, I noticed small changes in facial features, beard, glasses, the look, and I seemed to be riding with this stranger for too long.

the person who helped shape the past few years now seemed to me an old unknown, a incognita, another life, like one of those small urban dramas of the early '80s.

even looked into the eyes, and seemed unable to understand what this stranger had me add, or if I really wanted in my life. behind each eye there is a quiet story that does not come back, only sediments: the colder water, the blower's daughter, the pupil in denial. you can not trust that easy confidence of a smile or the way they say okay with teeth clenched and eyes closed, looking for something that is not known.
an
so it is. Dear Agony Aunt