Late Nigt Stomach Ache

AGORA XVII. Travel

While the route passes over the side, the child C look at the pictures of the Andes, Buenos Aires immense night of a sunset with storm while descending in Ezeiza, remembers the kind of travel that Van lost at the airport one hour forty-five minutes, then do not feed the manual toll near Campana, puteaba like crazy, as he tried to put the belt F was asleep. Then close the notebook and look at the pens. This is not James, and Valpo. Not in the 612 to Sebastiana looked like a roller coaster, but Chile, between the houses. The voice of the guy who said: Sometimes, the groups end up living in houses, not hear more. Went out. But no pictures. A huge banner, a beacon to advertisements on outdoor screens, high, a library without material, lift the edge of a bay, pelicans and gulls paralyzed by a flash. The entrance by Orono in the night. The open suitcases on the floor of his house. The brothel's back. And the morning. Uploaded to the car and on the road again and now, far away in a gloom, showing the two buildings, but this is not Rosario's Lions and not see how it goes through just like space, geography. A Lucio Mansilla led the tour to gather volumes, journals and newspapers publish their dreams on the Pampa, explain that it was a journey. We dream and we were somewhere else. Neither account gave us the alteration of the landscape. And over there were no Indians with which to learn a little more civilization.

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XVI. The other house

I'm tired of Neruda. It not only his face and his name is, spectral, in every corner of Valpo, but today, well after mearle beach house in Isla Negra and after fighting with boaters because we saw the faces of jerks and wanted to charge us ten times more for a boat ride across the bay. Yes, after fighting until satiety, F with them, Child C running from actual violence, there, next to water turbulence hitting the dock. When one shouted that denounce Lola for taking advantage of their pockets, not to let out the collective boat cheap. After all these circumstances, we ended up in the other house of Pablito in La Sebastiana. They say it is twenty-five houses in Chile. For me it is an exaggeration. But I shut my mouth. It pays to win laureates, che, no case. Luckily, oh, to die gloriously coincidence!, Despite the sharp turns through the hills, between the heads poking your gums decayed, fortunately, yes, we ended up in the place where we had to meet Nadia and already , in both sickness and go from one side to another, could not remember where it was. Child C said that, at least not in vain, while the courtyard you pees Pablito Foundation as the afternoon the beach in Isla Negra, built and expanded tourist alongside, above and below the original home has almost disappeared. He came not to fart. No. And especially, because Nadia is not Neruda, and thanks to Chile.lé.lé.lé.

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XV. Pablito values \u200b\u200b

El Niño C enters the house of Neruda. As her poetry: beautiful. But it is understood here that the adejtivo is only preaching, never a positive value in itself. Of course. All tourist. Very. Mr. Ambassador, almost president and Nobel Prize or noticed surrounded by breathtaking scenery could be said also and impressionist-belle-lyricist. Island not an island nor black, but beach turquoise, white, blue, pink, green and dark blue only. Every once more confirm the theory. Child C is confirmed. That's pretty easy to write poetry. Mr. no se rodeó de lo que Baudelaire, o Cucurto o Hamsun. Arlt tenía razón: para hacer estilo pulcro y perfecto, hay que tener rentas. Para ser un “gran escritor”, un premio, hay que tener una cuenta bancaria. De lo que se deducen varias consecuencias. Por ejemplo, que quienes siguen buscando o leyendo la literatura por el valor de lo bello, de lo perfecto, de lo lindo o lo ¡ay, qué bien escribe! sostienen una hegemonía axiológica y una división social concreta. De seguir leyendo y escribiendo así, bajo esos valores, sólo podrán escribir literatura los que tengan fortuna y los demás, quedaremos afuera. Por brutos. Por Bestias. Por pobres. Quieran o no reconocerlo, señores, las cosas parece they are true. I can be wrong. Always. But on the surface and bottom, the economic distribution also creates literary value. And here we are. The piece of Neruda's house.

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XIV. "Isla Negra?

After almost desperately seeking an adequate budget to get to Isla Negra, yes, Neruda's house, here we are. At full travel, climbing ever higher. Child C began to feel the persistence in the body of the first pain. Perhaps the height or up and down all the time in the foothills. I do not know. Maybe something will be splitting the bones, head, tongue. Yesterday. For example. Yes ended up in bed. Almost fainted. Before. In Viña. Felt the world was torn. And the headache. And stupidity. That slowed movements. It looked like a death. He had to return. And today. While progress. On the slopes of pine trees. And eucalyptus. He realizes that these pains seem installed in the landscape. It has to be food. The lack of good food during the week. Pure empanadas. There was no need, no, buy a steak to the poor, as they say the menus, for being poor. The body. Now it returns those. For all the crap stuck. Malalimentación called lack of money. Hunger. Food poor. As there in the field. Face and pain of the poor. And I want to go. Back. Do not take it anymore. Rosario needs to be in again.

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XIII. On poverty (or escape)

the bus in Playa Ancha and Viña del Mar. Julia just listen to a presentation on Vallejo hairs raised him arms like a chicken. Now look at the bay with calm waves ranging and broken on the rocks. Gull flock through the air and the collective is at full speed. As in Rio, who traveled from one end to the other along the coast to ninety or a hundred km / h. But now go up and down hills, streets that rise and fall in and out of port cities. They come and walk. This city has something that fascinates him. It must be the apparent absence of poverty and tourism order and prices of their balconies and streets. If there is even Masetos with flowers on the lights and traffic lights! Is the absence of poverty. That has always fled and contrasts clearly with Valparaiso. Child C is not a god who make or carry securities auratic to what does not. There must have been poor to realize what living in these conditions, pure need, pure every day trying to get the leftover money to buy food. Yes, we must be poor to understand that there is nothing wonderful in that kind of living death and take the necessary dimension of which is to eliminate once and for all that horror movie where you are tucked unwittingly force and will millions of children who can not sleep at night because the bogeyman will scratch stomachs or sides. This is obviously something you love to have. It is the consciousness of the poor Marxist Beast, brought to an expression of desire for the life of another. Possible. It is sheer necessity, baba who falls, never sated, I would say. And may all live in this comfort. But as long as we have been poor before. Because if there is something that can never be as Viña Valparaiso is the obvious quality and people's cultural, human ties of the poor can become rich like the only thing that can access and be able to accumulate. Weak links at all, such as liquid modernity of a wealthy social sector described by some sociologists. The poor have other links, is other people, no doubt. Although it is not convenient to live in the midst of horror, amid the fear that game, because sooner or later those links become ghetto and consciousness becomes a wasteland poorer than that of life. So you have to flee, although it may seem contradictory. And here we are. In the sample photo of Valparaiso, while people are gathered in the Plaza Sotomayor because he has started another free concert. We in this labyrinth of glances, a sample of global photographers captured motion, friction and collective experiences of photography in Latin America. And best of all, it's on the walls of the subway station of the port. No stadium, no park, beach or set of pelicans Viña, despite all its beauty and comfort that can be compared with this.

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XII. Pisco Sour to Congress

While walking along the side of the bay, it does recall that F was left with swollen throat in the room. From below, Valparaiso breathe without fatigue. Is it ok? What if you have the swine flu virus or some shit for which our immunology Argentina is not ready? What do we do? I do not know. At least, he sent two messages now. Signal is still alive. Below, are some rocks scattered in the small beach. Botafogo Is the other side? A girl throws some against the wave of calm. And there is some pelicans and a week ago he read Baudelaire, feels that it is the first time you actually see. Or is that shit pisco with lemon (pisco sour) and just take her to lose perspective. I do not know. The fact is that burns the tongue and blood wearing something hot, perhaps, from the inside out, as it moves down the side, sweaty, but happy with this bag of Congress who have just given him. Rosario something that is inconceivable. And so, alcohol and raw salmon, torazodos, whole, cooked, pinched, he had finished eating, stomach Perida intensify the meaning. And now the pelicans on the rocks rise and release clouds of fish on the sand. As if drunken vomit crooked words that do not find where to go or how to breathe and jump on the sand trying to catch the stream of water to survive a little longer. But no. There are pelicans. Whales appear drunk marching with tutus and umbrellas blinds oysters. Neither. And can no longer bear the heat and humidity so that taste in the mouth and, therefore, asked a sailor himself, THE SAILOR-how much I need for wide beach. It gives me two possibilities: either climb stairs or get to the light. I think a third: that he take me down the stairs, dragged, if you want, but I know it will not be possible or crazy I climb the stairs alone and walking again. I'm going to light. Thank you, I say and watch the pelicans pecking loose fish, such as Child C pecked just some, asking for books with a desperation that is symptomatic of the book is rare in this country, so very expensive that the fact that someone would regale I must seem a nonsense and were pounced all over it blatantly asking you. I know that's not it, is pure drunkenness, nothing more, I left with the gift itself loose and books galore. And then I see the light, but not crazy climb the steep street to the University, or crazy. And the Child C tadpole little hands stretched dwarf and begins to ask, because can not read the little signs, each of the bus drivers if they leave or not in the LAUP. One says yes and goes. Now going to have to read. At most, wait no burp fish as pelicans.

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UPLA XI. The indelible

We spent the afternoon in the maze of ruins. Crossing streets, churches, viewpoints, up and down the few remaining elevators in the world this neoliberal Chile privatized. We're sick of seeing so many police come and go and people shouting that we do not have the camera in hand, it does not take money on the street, we are careful with backpacks. Child C paranoia begins to grow and where there was a port city, is now at its peak Rosinha. Is stabbed, shot, beaten, broken by some asshole boyfriend. But no. So far, the most that happened to us was that we cried if we wanted crack or ecstasy, love drug, one of the squares. Obviously we are the jerks. Child C while eating another puff with caramel, F a chocolate cake. And then, as we do not give ball, we want to speak English and we suggest things. I'm still in the mine and stop screwing around. Soon, an old beckons to go. By the look I know with what intention. Minga, old, Minga, as we say in Argentina. Child C and leaves him with the dribble. Hanged.
Suddenly it is night and again at the Plaza Sotomayor. Only now, a huge stage, he sings Pedro Aznar. Just left the French. Aznar began the concert. At first he seemed drowsy, monotonous, and with lyrics vapid and full of rhymes without meaning or rhyme or reason, the style Belén Francese. Child C began to throw their poison away, but suddenly, things changed and some Aznar took over the stage. And then I understood everything, sooner or later, the true artist, it assaults him that some have called the silence, other hallucination, some genius, some magic and I prefer to call the Beast. And when it appears and makes the artist, his toy, when you agree to the point that the body seems to disintegrate or late life and staged a tense vibration, nothing can stop it and that makes this happens, at least one or two or three songs, or a poem or a verse or a story or a novel or a stroke in one box, and we can not forget. We come into contact with indelible. Aznar and Valparaiso and the moon above and will not leave my head.

Having Pain Both Sides

X. Valparaiso

is Tuesday. So we're going to Valparaiso. We took the bus in Pajaritos station and you see us, across the foothills to the ocean. What was not visible before, now seems out between the crossing of the country: poverty. I see the first camps piled on mountains; others, on the side of the road. But inevitably, there seems villas or not. Are a few houses clustered here and there. Poverty is widespread within just pockets. The landscape is similar to that of Salta, only the other side of the ridge. Most mountains are dry and just a couple of pimples cover some. Later, the vegetation thickens amid black clouds pass us by, really, do not you see? But suddenly, everything is cut and what was not, is. Poverty spreads its porteñas boxes stacked on each other, with the typical colors of the sea: blue, yellow, green water, red. Next to each other, blinking. And peeling walls and sunken or folded sheets and the facades of the few colonial buildings of concrete or more resistant materials fall old. Valparaíso their poverty shows mixed with an architectural anachronism that time has worn aged. And that seems to be the architectural appeal of this heritage of humanity. In the end, we asked if we took a collective or a taxi. The car, we will head off, we will leave bare, says the lady. We take a bus at the stop, ahisito ask, just, "iá? And we do. We are so confused that a woman approaches and begins to stop the buses and target and ask questions until they give us one wide left by beach where the Hostel Casaclub we go. Child C up his bags, heavy, even more than his body and sits back. Two idiots are set aside their cell phones at full speed. Looks like a mix of reggae with cumbia and quartet what they hear. Unbearable and pelotudeces letter says all the time. The city will go up and us down, we tour churches and colonial houses chipped paint or covered. Piping in the walls and friezes of all types. Angels, palm trees, braids. And stone walls and cement. And the sea that sticks every now and yonder, in some passages. It's cloudy and cold thyroid makes a standstill. We passed a bridge and the bus leaves us isolated in the harbor entrance. On the other hand, the hill. Gigantic. You have to upload it, with backpacks and shoulder bags. The elevators are broken. No, actually, at night, in the Plaza Sotomayor, we learned that no. It appeared that a French coup in the crowd and gave us a leaflet calling for people to join the State expropriate the elevators. He explained that five years ago who lived in Valparaiso. And from one year to another, began to shut down all elevators in the hills because the owners want to charge twice and the state will not let them or people are not paid directly. Then, began to close, the last year to this, closed fifteen and now there are only four functions. And people, well, can not climb. Imagine the old, are confined to the hill, not down, because if you do not have money for a taxi, after whom the rise. Or say you're right, when we went up the street with suitcases in tow, if it appeared the French made him a picket line as long as the elevator Villaseca expropriated and put it in motion. Tongue out. It's one afternoon and went up the mountain road to the hostel. Do not give more. Not give anymore. And every so often stop and watch the sea of \u200b\u200bruins of the city to lay the blue sea. We would say that is a Buenos Aires slum, tourism. Yes, that. Poverty, destruction, trade and tourism. But no sign of violence accumulated. Visible. Only a graffitis they paint the walls with lyrics that I can not I have the ability to decipher and less at this juncture. We arrived at the hostel. F with a sore throat, ready to sprout through the mouth. Since yesterday it hurts and you cough and cough and do not let you sleep. It feels very, very wrong, I can tell by his face, but is stubborn and refused to take a taxi. Now we are here. The hostel is a two-story blue box. Our room overlooking the bay from which to see the city and the ocean in a panoramic view does heal and recover all the effort.

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IX. Bella-Vista

walked for hours through the city embroiled in the Valley of the Andes. We went and came down the side of Mapocho until they found Bellavista, the district Santiago's bohemian. I find Off the record, the restaurant where artists such as César Aira, Carlos Monsivais, Jose Emilio Pacheco, and many more notables were interviewed for a program director Rodrigo Gonçalves since 1996. It appears, according to the sign of the MAC, each respondent made a picture with his signature on the walls. I recognize some faces in the exhibition of 300 photos of the MAC. But I want to get there, take something in the chair, for example, where he sat Pacheco. However, it is so nice the place the child C is lost between the houses and vegetation and ends at the Cerro Santa Lucia del Carmen, where there is a funicular that allows a panoramic view all the city and a zoo and lift chairs that are for walking around. And there they go. F takes the tickets and get on the funicular. It is a kind of improvised elevator as you see in Valparaíso. For a set of wires trailing four or five cars in rows to the top of Mt. And that confirms the suspicions: in Santi seems to have villas. The city enters and exits through the mountains, but does not look good for the smog, however, is enough to imagine or guess that there are no towns or favelas. Although maybe, just around that hill ...

Dual Camera/binoculars

Chile VII. Two conclusions

Two conclusions about the Book Fair
1-The prices are expensive: The Bookseller of Ocean adds us to be VAT in the Argentine market there for books as they lack central offices or houses multinationals in Chile where they can edit and print the texts. Multinationals here edited and printed outside the country and, therefore, the books pay import taxes, including those of Chilean literature.
2-Readers, therefore, are few and with great purchasing power. Consider: a single book represents about 5 or 10 % Of salary. So the fair is small and there are so few people in the middle of Sunday (this is part of the model that some sectors claim to Argentina).

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Chile VIII. Beasts at the Museum

marks left by the earthquake do not persist. The cultural center front Mapocho extends a park we got and we ended up here in the School of Fine Arts. The facade is cracked and there are huge landslides masonry. If you enter the MAC (Museum of Contemporary Art) you're faced with the display of a hanging wall at the entrance. But the most interesting of the MAC are the exposures which, although small, trapped in a kind of attraction that leaves you wanting more. And one of them, not coincidentally, plays the video of how some artists symbolically the facade repaired after the earthquake. And is there behind the wall: a wall of A4 sheets that assemble the various parts of the front, next to each other, with minotaurs and deformed creatures. And the wall cracks and cracks and detachment of plaster that looks like the map of chile, in fact, I do not know whether or not a sham, because it is so similar to the map, I mistook what he just went in and only after a long time, I I realized that was not a map but detachment.
But that building, on the other end, is the Museo de Bellas Artes. Samples also modest and a large building complex disorder for parts. An exhibition left me dumbfounded. It is the collective display of the present Chilean artists: Carlos Altamirano and Gonzalo Díaz. There are two pictures that have something that brings out the beast itself and feeds.
One of Carlos Altamirano. A dove, maybe of peace-but not white, "or pigeon that abounds in Chile or that other blue bandadosa played ad nauseam in the poetic production and bourgeois landscaping. But neither can nor wants to be read from any of these coordinates. And the dove is open to a perfect dissection and various hooks will stretch the skin to the sides so we can see their organs. One of those hooks, pulls the intestine outside the body and lifts it above the neck. The look of the Dove conveys all the peace and beauty you can imagine, but his physicality reminds us that there is nothing there in spirit, but matter alone, rather, pure violence on the subject of a surgeon has decided not to hide more bodies and the body behind the beatific gaze, and who knows what purpose. The work is supported by the contrast and the suggestion that any moral is to hide the internal body after the petrification of a surgeon-absent but always present-of the scene. And that tension is correlative to the print and mixed media from painting that has been used, as if the surgeon wanted to hide the pictorial quality of his work and that, like the dove, but did not show a device made of pure body and pure intent.
The other, belonging to Gonzalo Díaz. This is a mixed media piece, half printing half plant and, in fact, is composed of two opposing pieces. In one, the artist draws a conventional landscape and looks embarrassed, but as a pure gesture-out parody. It is framed in a kind of poster, which reads as follows: "PAINTING ON REQUEST. We do not recommend more than one year. " And above that: "Violence, action, intrigue and performance in the last play of the author of 104 Km. It is a painting off the charts! ". Outside, on the wall, the performance is defined as that which occurs when the artist emerges as a support for the work. And then, one serving the second part of this work of Diaz. This is a giant of himself photographing the poster where he also paints a landscape on request. The commodification of the work appears as well, coagulated in a frameset: a poster advertising holds within the privacy of the workshop and, in turn, both are locked into the mechanical reproduction of the photograph that clearly, refers to this definition of performance in a museum in which an artist does nothing but show itself in every line of execution of his work. And there, in that game fetish of mirrors and frames, desecrates the artist himself, parodying its own conditions of survival and relapse in commissioned work to which need to avoid doing more than once a year. Performative force arises where the support is the artist-in vain attempts to ruin himself and that is, after all, the only safeguard you have against the deification that the market seeks the artist as a consumer brand or mere advertising poster that should sell a perfection and an aura where there's only attempt at survival.
These two works have a power that can not be defined simply and must see to understand. For the Beast approach defies or translation and forces, always, use and personal experience as the only means of contact with her, even though we never touch, given our insignificance, our nothingness, our frailty hooks supported by cold weather.

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Chile VI. Fair

was not a book about the Mapocho. I understood it all wrong, as usual. And luckily, since the error-as-Aira teaches not only can get a style, but always the best, authentic experience. The place was the International Book Fair of Santiago. And close today. 2000 pesos Chilean input-I say almost more expensive than the bus fare to Valparaiso, similar to the cable car to the Virgen del Cerro, like a plate of junk food and lower in the middle third of the stay in the hostel. But we are here and pay.
is a warehouse on the banks of the Mapocho brown running from the mountain under bridges and streets and on a bed of stones and rocks. Activity
. Sign. Entered. The stands in excess of fifty, but not more than one hundred. The first part consists of a gallery of regional editorials Chile. Then follow two sections of libraries and national and multinational publishers, plus a room E on its side with editors from different countries. For some reason, the small stand of Argentina is in the door, out of other countries. The books displayed are few, most, author unknown. It is as if they had caught books they had at hand and IA, "Cachai?
The space is structured around a central point where the big publishers are located, usually multinationals. Blended with bookstores and peripheral areas emerging labels such as LOM, RIL, Fourth animitas cartonera-owned and the latter in the booth of a library in which only displays three copies and print Excel sheet with all the titles published, unlike Alfaguara or Metro or Ocean that were assembled a library of shopping in the middle Fair. But the little girls are the ones I atren. However, I have to go through Alfaguara, as I need material for the thesis, these Latin American writers not repaired three seconds on the channels you published, but is understandable, need to eat and the bank. So the Child C gets. Find the superstars of Chilean literature past and present: Donoso and Fuguet. Do not know if I really wanted to find them or lose them because they spend so many good things can be terrible. A Donoso, as tolerated. But Fuguet! Except the first books, other ... What plunger! He does not understand what he found, though Fogwill Overdose is one of the best books of short stories of the '90s, yes must admit. Was it the pose of destabilizing of artistic-intellectual? Maybe. But with the performance that was sent a fortnight ago in Rosario, rather than provocative or destabilizing, became one of those guys who do not know how or why they have fallen in the literature. And this even though he says it is not a character. It's the most real of the drill writer. Virtual realism is not enough to believe that forms an image of a journalist who falls in the tradition of chance. No. Actually it shows that it is. There is something, except in overdose, insist that the overflow from behind, but pure writing to be consumed in a market for urban readers.
top prices for these books! But hey, it's working, and assumes that the material is needed to earn some money to feed the beast. And the purchase. Luckily, got a Diamela Eltit and Nadia in the Chilean combo, but would be painful, unbearable. In addition, Fuguet serves for that: to show a market-led joint.
Now the bookseller tells me that evening, Alfonso Fernández-Albert Fuguet will be signing copies, I can come, if I want. F says he will bring the books. I urge you that if you think of this atrocity, the pay for it, so I immediately destabilizing that wonderful idea. Nothing more pathetic than the dealers of firms in each stand. Multinationals, for example. There, yeah, look under his gigantografía, we see the Chilean Alfaguara Novel Prize 2010, posing for a picture with a child on his knees, as he signs a copy to her mother. Exotic native traits in her face, smile, pose for intellectual and arms crossed in the photo, Tinelli identical to that carried on his TV program. Remember that Tito, the bodyguard of impresentable Fort, which clung to the pineapples on the air, pretending that he could with a bodyguard? I want to be Tinelli and get kicked out all those hideous billboards. But it is to fart, I can not ever be able to these retailers of signatures. Luckily I'll never be in their shoes.
Borges said that a book, once published, was no longer of the author and passed to the memory of readers, its variations and its evils. These should not be read or, perhaps, boast similar challenges and create provoke axiom insisting his signature mark of membership that no longer belongs to them. Therefore, the Child C preferred peripherals such as Nadia and Clement, whose books are hidden in the stack LOM chaotically poetic, but that force the reader to deal with a verse, even, to see if they are and undertake or not spending to play the game of the evils.

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Chile V.

I get a mail from Nadia. To go to metro Mapocho the Fine Arts. There should be a bookstore to find some criticism and Chilean literature contemporary.
But before leaving, Child C has to have breakfast. No doubt. Since yesterday just eat cookies and sandwiches for our economy devalued. Is that Chile is very expensive, then I find out that it is for them Chileans earn between 160,000 (the majority) to 300,000 Chilean pesos (at least), a passage by bus costs 300 (therefore, are 4200 pesos per week or 17000 per month, taking two trips a day which is 10% of first salary and 5% in the second), the descent of an elevator and back 100 pesos, 10,000 pesos a book, three lemons 500 pesos a share 13,000 pesos a public university, 900 pesos a pie, a dish of food in a restaurant 5000 pesos, a soft drink pints 1000 pesos and the food is incomparable, worse than in Argentina, much worse.
But now we must seize. The Hostel is expensive and not let him breakfast or crazy. Go down to the dining room. The morning air passes through a current of hedges and there, at bottom, circular tables display ceramic colorinches wells and huge slices of sliced \u200b\u200bbread wrapped in napkins. Now, look at the red jam. Berries "or strawberries? Do not know. Neither wants to know, because if something known is that all red candies make you vomit or nearly vomiting. Like thick blood directly into the stomach. And I'm anything but a vampire. Although this critically profession under-literary writing is sort of vampirism, as Rafael said once. But this has nothing to do with literature. Is one breakfast. And he sits with suspicion.
Take a bag of tea and toast with butter smeared three-hundred percent calories your body thin and thyroid. Knows he can not, but will eat the same thing. After no time to lose weight. So far, no allergic smell or slimy gelatin could curb hunger. Until that happens. On the doorway, a man asked the lady cleaning something. The woman is uncomfortable. It seems because he lowers his head, scratching or nose cap, takes a hand to mouth. Now listen. Prompts for a pharmacy and the woman answers something that I can not hear. But enough. The guy goes through, cuts, breaks the air of the room. I can not believe it! You shit stains marble face, belly, dirty clothes and the smell unbearable mess with butter and sliced \u200b\u200bbread to the mouth by the nose.
the stomach. More disgust. Hardly get tea. I see the specks of butter floating in the liquid and I remember the others are still in the perception, beaten to perception. Will we came to stop a home for men in the street? Maybe. I said from the beginning. The blood throws (naturalist). F did not even notice, never gives accounts of disasters that happen around us. Until we wake up and just when we were in the hall, we were locked up there with the guy back in hand bag from the pharmacy. In passing, the woman who comes to close the front door was a desperate gesture contained arcade. YF ran off the laughter and Child C could not do more than imitate the geta puckered.

Ontario Colour Plates

By the beginning of the year, our company is called in union elections to elect representatives of workers in the Works.

In UGT trade union branch has decided that hold a primary, in which each group if you want this in your application and compete against others. A group of colleagues, we do not like this system because we believe in full democracy, with a clear and transparent system in which members choose among candidates for volunteers who would go on the list for UGT, the order they chose the members.

The way in which it is democratic but excluding, as they create new groups and enemiguismos cronyism, which will lead to division among the electorate and finally to the vote to be diverted to other union forces or mass abstention, for such is the effect of boredom that produce these situations of confrontation between the housemates. In the end the most benefit from this waste of energy is the company, which has split the work among peers made by the same partners, thereby achieving the group is not involved in a global task of achieving objectives.

As you do so, a group of workers have decided to create an alternative to the official list, which we invite all those who want to be part of it, with the intention that it be fully democratic without or list number one last fill, in which the order will be decided in a secret ballot, democratic by members of the same.

In short what is sought is to form a group that builds trust and willingness to work away from the limelight and seek personal benefits everyone always so willing to dialogue and negotiation.

Those interested can get in touch with Dagger, or Candamo.

cheer up!!

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breakfast impossibilities Chile IV convention

After resting, we went by O'Higgins. Child C has always been those who argue that a city walk or do not know, only through it. And put first. We were close to La Moneda and when the music began to arrive. In electro-techno beats. Bowling. F

entered a super to buy a sandwich. Child C leaned against the brick wall waiting the subway. And they began to appear. Entire flocks were entering and exiting the subway, supermarket, corner, who doubled and from the square in front of La Moneda, or to La Moneda. Children were-Girls-Girls and Boys of all styles, colors, hairstyles, beauty, sensuality, provocation, heights and gestures. And watched. They looked. As looking at not given. Hysterical. F

viewed from the box with the big eyes and the smile of Monalisa. Sale. He says, in short: "I found one sandwich, but the dragonflies emerge from the tiles.

- How much! There must be something "I say.

Then the groups scattered Child C is shown brandishing a flag with rainbow colors and the white star on a blue square flag Chile replicating giant rolls in the air in front of La Moneda. But this is gay!

walked to where the groups become hordes and as soon as we arrived at the Plaza, you see, under a building arch spanning the street, yes, there, where would the cars and the building (huge military squarely) is a framework, Child C and F are a stage on the dance like stitching, one at each end, two winged children, almost naked girls. In the middle of the stage giant, a quick change harangue Horde dances metal bouncing off their flags in the wind. And the music fills the walls of buildings, and bounces through the mountains of Valle.

"Gay Parade" says the sign of the stage. And they get, the Child C and F in the middle of the crowd. F looks at me and adds: - But what a piece of convention! And these conventions came in droves to participate in the debate! Will they certified? Where will they sign?

I laugh by the occurrence. And I think that would be a good idea: a convention G where, rather than seek agreement on an issue, involving dancing, drinking beer or pisco sours, kissing, rolling around on the beds of the street. Things that would be solved! The end of all wars! After all, what better way rather than agreeing with the body.

If even the social body can not avoid the party: the ladies, wives of military or administrative, they spend with their dogs and watch with horror the spectacle or the gentlemen who take the opportunity to laugh at themselves than they would if they were not so repressed. From now on, we're at the convention and the participants saturate the landscape of the falls, fast motion and robotic, blocks and blocks of music in which the scenarios multiply around a crowd would seem freed, but no.

El Niño C

remember that time in Copacabana close to this date, which became a Gay Parade, which he mistook for the gay pride march, either: why not military, and never believe a more a minority ghetto. And they were, this time with Marianne, after the beach. This is the same, but in front of Santiago and the Chilean power emblems par excellence: The Money and the flag. Hordes are the same, only now with a star Chilean altered by rainbow and surrounded by police. Yes, surrounding on all sides, to saturate multiple colors of green. Stiff with their guns and derogatory gestures. Nor scenarios as there are trucks that time, but the police trucks that seem to be out of a horror movie. Better or closer, to see if they lock you up inside. No way!

But people are, even the same and different. Identical styles, costumes, dresses, skirt, pigtails schoolgirl, horns of devils-devils, forms of dance, gestures and obscenities. But the features, skins, tunes, tongues, eyes (slanted), flags, places, are different. Is that in this world, everything looks the same and different at every step, and the gay style, previously marginal, now has joined neocivilizatoria wave of globalization. From the style imposes perisferia global and here we are, staring faces, walking blocks and blocks and recibendo innuendo, babas of desire, at home, but no.

At the end, Child C hear from transformed the stage to thank and blame the police. For having performed well this round, though, he says, in the past have done so much evil. And the crowd of children-girls and girls to boys shouting wildly, while Chile's recent past was updated to purified (democratically) Gay Parade in a more global, but still able to destabilize and vibrant, despite its remarkable alignment with neocivilizatoria wave.

Find The Dangers Worksheet

G III

now is in the hostel. Lying in bed with springs noticeable. Look at the ceiling and walls cracked and induced patches. As if to hide what is not. For him, the terremonto; are cracking, no detachment of plaster. And look at F in the other bed. He says what he thinks. The hypothesis is less melodramatic: it is an old house, it has nothing to do with the earthquake. Just now, while they got to the bus to the center before, yes, just before going down and walk over here O'Higgins, F also had altered their assumptions: - villas No, I said Child C and F would answer: - Here, we must look elsewhere . The reality is so complex that no hesitation in doubt. After all, everything is possible and, perhaps, Chile is not the paradise that we paint from TN. As Brazil . Like Brazil. models certain sectors.

Australian Equivilent To Kashi Cereal

Chile Chile Chile II

Down the Andes. Since leaving deep grooves and the plane over here from time to time enters the empty patches suck. Oblique wings to the side, so we can see the Aconcagua and just end up passing, there in front of the airport. No end to cross the lava, earth, green and snow, we are already descending on the slopes of Santiago. The ears, as always, make a sound tight and compressed as the head seems to support, to limit pressure to explode. F spoke with a Chilean who draws the first map and it points out the bus we have to take. Puerto Center. Transportation undervalued according to our pockets, for under four dollars. It's hot. A lot. And we're all on a highway that gets us, slowly, in the city.

White Cotton Gloves Toronto

I LOVE AND POLITICS

only say one thing, airlines us dizzy. This is the beginning of this journey. First, the company, we canceled the flight from Rosario and told us not to pay us anything, after Travel Vans hired, but gave the wrong address, then told us we returned insignificant 58 pesos, but five hours of travel and no sleep. And today, recently, the big news: We arrived and did not appear on the flight, we had canceled the payment and returned-to sixty days, the money via credit card.

We returned to zero, although the reserve was preserved and had to pay again. It is the fate of the Child C. Be used by the system, crumpled, like his father in the field, while his hands cut soy cayadas salary in half, from 5 am to 7 pm, because his boss told him, from its four by four, she was in trouble economic, or like my mom, with varicose veins swollen and hurt to clean the school hallways. Class is destiny. He, forgiveness, has begun to believe that indeed there is something in the blood or inheritance or by Moira default, because they always pass these contingencies in full trip. In Rio lost boarding passes and Lula deports him to confess about entering the country to study and without a visa. Dementia. Although also called incorporation of a habit outside his class. That is in the background. And look at the Boeing, which never traveled, translucent tubes connected by the mass of cement under your feet and moving up the sky and know you will be there and not care about the problems: fly, fly, as the song goes.

Review Pain Neutralization Technique Dvd

Youth and Culture 2010 (Presentation of work until November 30, 2010)

This edition includes the call for various forms: Young Music - Photography - Comics , Illustration and Comics - Literature - Graphic Design.

And new contest the notice of Intercultural Canario-Moroccan Youth, which aims to connect young artists from both regions to share their artistic, cultural exchange and create opportunities for joint creations.

CONTEST RULES

Slow Steam South Park

Connect: 131 centers, free internet access (Cabildo de Tenerife)

When leaving the Institute does not have internet access from home, the Cabildo of Tenerife is provided through the Red Island Public Access Centers Internet (RICAPI).

Telecentres are public areas with Internet-connected computers and other information technologies and communication, such as scanners, printers or headsets.

Discover the location of the centers in the following LINK

Cool Wedding Welcome Messagees

Week of Science and Innovation in the Canaries 2010

5 th edition of the Week of Science and Innovation in the Canaries 2010 that held on all islands between 9 and 21 November and on this occasion plagued interesting events, with special attention to current issues such as the Social Networking and Biodiversity , using various formats to make affordable, attractive messages: science cafés, mini-fair, breakfast technological Pecha Kucha Ni ght, workshops, etc, etc. . Events for all ages and completely free.

Liaison Program