Here tonight is one of those nights that you feel far enough away that we can do whatever you want. Can you rape, filling, shaping, hate, love, and you can open the cut, spit in it, piss on it. I needed a night like that, one evening, but no warning and never part with your plans .. only in her.
you can not call to the phone, you can not hear you but you can only feel like something is there and living out of your subconscious. Unconscious. Dissociated and expanded. Hot, sultry, stifling, counterproductive (I'll tell you tomorrow), agitated and emotional, reflective of a whole series of experiences that have filled spaces left on an old network.
That's what this evening. Tonight is like an old blog that go reread years later (four), who thought he was dead and buried, finished in the archives of some American cyberarachide, used by pirates of the free world to create holes in space and time .. and yet everything is there. Are there any words that you wrote when everything was different and everything seems, frankly, more real. Maybe you were still pure, maybe you were beautiful silverware ready for Gross ordinary people, peasants, cyberpunk who seek to break the bank a living through those letters that just fucking filthy British could place them.
I do not like snapshots, they are useless and sterile. The pictures do not remember the most was an event of fact. There are MILLIONS archives of photographic archives on the cloud that envelops us perennial (and shocks) to make us remember something. Remember? It is not that the photos will ensure that participative act that we like so much to us hardcore fans of public ridicule? Well known and hunger. Let's see who will win the day doing these first two words. Fame or famine. What do Italians think in 5 years?
said, it is always a pleasure to see what I was (and was) four years ago. The world has changed, Prodi is no more, the purple and green dots are not as fashionable and even with the Truzzi paiettes. However, there are the FAKE from MILAN AND ALTERNATIVE BOYZ BOLONGNA, probably the worst of the worst ... if only they are not as cacovisivi but would love to do it to him shit in his mouth.
Then, returning to the blog, that blog was that closed its doors with an epic disaster, a period that inhuman probably had its illustrious precedent on that fateful day of the Hiroshima bomb, perhaps the day Nagasaki . Then there was actually a period of relaxation, such drole de guerre, but ridiculous ... And just because I was in the car I was looking for some wild boars from skinning ...
Then nothing.
final consideration, or rather two. I'm not drunk is the first and the second is that if we valutare il successo di un blog dal numero di visitatori e di commenti allora
Museelife 1 Blog ecocompatibile 0
La terza, e davvero ultima, considerazione è che museelife aveva più visitatori ed era l'allegoria della mia vita precedente, preHIRO o preNAGA. Ora che il mio blog è questo, spazio bianco per riempire di mia merda tutto quello che rimane fuori dal layout, il risultato non cambia.
Nessuno commenta.
Nessuno visita.
La mia vita finì quel giorno, Lunedì 2 Ottobre 2006. Ore 8.18
Saluti
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