Install Toilet Seat Kohler Rialto

/ Norwegian Wood

- This is not the point - I said. - It's not a question of "what would." In the world there are people who like to know all about timetables, and spend whole days to compare them. Or people who like to do development with matches, capable of building vessels of all meters made of matches. So what's wrong in the world if there is one who is interested in understanding you?
- As a kind of hobby? - Naoko said, puzzled.
- If you want you can call it that. Less imaginative people would call it love, friendship . But if you want to call it a hobby, there's nothing wrong with that.

Haruki Murakami - Norwegian Wood

You know those books that do not just read once?
books that call to be read a second, third, fourth and then finish with the mold in the skull and soul and make you understand that there will be nothing that can replace them.
Well, for me one of these books is Norwegian Wood, got stuck between the skin and bones, just near the heart and, when I read it, makes the heart beat stronger. Lately it is becoming my life preserver to remain anchored the reality, not to lose, to find his way home.
pity that it is increasingly difficult.

Why Is My Kiddie Smoke Detector Beep

Novecento

" T Utta that city ... you could not see the end ...
The end, please, you could see the end?
It was all very nice, on that ladder ... and I was great with that nice coat, I did my look great, and I had no doubts that I would come down, there was no problem.
not what I saw stopped me, Max
is what I saw.
You understand? What I saw ... In all that vast city There was everything except the end.
There was everything.
But there was an end. What I did not see where it all ended. The end of the world.
You think of a piano. The keys begin. The keys end. You know who are 88, nobody could care about this. Are not infinite, they. You are infinite, and in those 88-key music that you can do is endless.
This I like. This I can live.
But if I climb up the ladder, and unfolds in front of me a keyboard of millions of keys, millions and billions of keys that never end, and this is the truth, that never end ... That keyboard is infinite. But
if that keyboard is infinite, then on that keyboard there is no music that you can play. You're sitting on the seat wrong: that is playing the piano on which God
Christ, but you saw on the streets? Even
only the streets, there were thousands! But tell me, how are you doing down there to pick one.
to choose a woman.
A house, a land that is yours, to look at a landscape, a way of dying.
All that world on which not even know where it ends, and how much there is.
You never fear, you end up in a thousand pieces only to think, that huge, just think of it? A live ...
I was born there on this ship. And see, here again the world has moved, but no more than two thousand people at a time. And there were wishes but no more than we could fit on a ship, between a bow and stern. You played your happiness on a keyboard that was not infinite.
I have learned to live this way.
Earth ... is a ship too big for me. She is too beautiful. It is a journey too long. It is a perfume too strong. It is music that does not know how to play.
not go by ship.
At most, I can get out of my life. I n early all, I do not even exist. "

Lucasville Flea Market 2010 Dates Oct 2010

the free raspberry aggratis

In the end, with only three hours late, our (?) Heroin has finally arrived in Turin.
To celebrate my return, my cat scratched me a plantation that continues to bleed Despite the tons of betadine and patches that I put in (which mysteriously seem to come off just because of the humidity). From the sickly
good woman got up with all the sorrows of the world, so I welcomed the universe and everything and I have stayed at home, virtually emptied the suitcase and make order: the case still stands in the entrance and I spent an hour chasing me with a kitten youngest to do a little 'play.

I was thinking to post today, just as I was running after the cat in fact, devoted mainly to technology: it is an idea born from the fact that I have to change my phone as one of the latest technology with touch screen and a thousand other innovations, including radiation, able to give superpowers, works a little 'shit. The messages I get twice, or do not arrive, the answering party alone, you hear the microphone etc ...
So I wanted to fall back on one of those phones with keys that may not come to cost as much as the first, but at least I will have a real communication and not its virtual absence. And maybe it will vibrate only when I call and do not jump when the woodpecker to do so.
And here I was reminded of my cousins, 10 and 13 years, who have the phone because "so parents always know where: in my age knew exactly where I was, or at home doing homework, to intoxicate me with the good old SuperNintendo and / or comb (read as "zero RAPI") my Barbie. Not now, now a plastic and silicon tracking us wherever we are and makes us discover if we try to do a trick on someone ('Ready?''' Hey, 'Mbecille PPPRRRRT! "). Or if the one who made us the joke kill him. Or if we kill in an attempt to do the trick. Or if we kill the joke. I mean, that stuff.

Yes, in the end my only thought is more about "because we can no longer fool the people say, so free". Or about not being able to make more jokes.
Actually I wanted to leave room for a disturbing reflection on how technology is no longer possible to be truly unreachable, which can sometimes be very helpful. But

hear Chet Baker sings in Italian that I blocked neurons and synapses. So now I have to fangirl and I have no time for seriousness.
I've already had enough.

Wedding Save The Date Quirky Sayings

the year of the cat

I'm stuck in the station in Viareggio. And yes, when you're stuck at the station, the mind begins to have no more thoughts "fresh", but all relate to one crucial question: "Why the hell we pay for a service of shit?" ;, harassing, annex.
But then I see that my train, intercity train direct to Turin, party from Salerno and hour and ten minutes late: anyone have the few poor bastards who make the whole trip from end to end, they deserve a little of my esteem. stations operated by dogs and exchanges dysfunctional no.
Everything here is giving me signs of dying down my back hurts, my pc marks remaining battery only for another two hours and forty minutes and I ardently hope to train more or less new, than those without compartments and with the sockets for those in career managers who need to view their PowerPoint presentations during the trip - just because you do not forget.
hour and ten minutes late, which is likely to increase, not counting to get a connection that the travel agent has masterminded a plot that involved my stay in Viareggio for an hour.
Sooner or later I hope to get there, otherwise I leave this post as a testament virtual memory that humanity sucks and that the pages of comics that I bought are never enough.
And fuck, I could bring something to read even more, that was not the Manual of Greek History, which right now has on me same attraction that could have a movie of Sylvester Steak Horse Mount (Sylv.Stallion goes there).
The waiting room is overflowing with suitcases behind which lurk travelers exhausted wet and somewhat resigned, looking on the monitor with a grimace that would be fun to bring to word for word in words - but I'll leave it to the imagination of the reader, but all this is taking a good thing or not, I will are drying shoes and jackets.
seems that in these places has not rained for years: the threat of river flooding, the newspapers titrated emergency evacuations and I think my calendar is actually two years back.

tragically I'm slipping into brainstorming.
And the i-Pod is leaving me, and if I leave even Cat Stevens, I just have to hate humanity passionately and having to put up with all the worst speeches of old ladies or the usual southern Marple.
Note that continued to raise his head to look at the damn monitor that continues to mark quell'1 .10. I will be a stiff neck for those who do not even allow it to rotate the pupils.

No ok, there was a change: 1 hour and 15 minutes late.
Holy shit.

I could spend time in this way, say, useful and maybe make a post in which I'm not complaining only of the trains, the fair, the world, this universe and the hamster, in the heat my skull, is chewing all the little gray matter I have left.
Actually I wanted to and I repeat, wanted to write something of some value, but also asking myself what is it that attracts me to a blog, I can not reproduce the formula beautifully.
Maybe I just have to work harder.
As I always do.
I like the term bind, shows some effort by one of the two sides, which can be considered positive for the sole reason "to exist", despite not having the desired results then led to: But sometimes, I I feel that all this effort is unnecessary and that the result be long to be seen. They are a small, damn pessimistic now is curled up on a chair aluminum, smashing up things too big for her.
continue to get all of my trains as possible and still nothing, in all senses, moreover, I feel like I'm standing on the platform of a station , looking endlessly, seeing nothing but fog.
Heavy, thick, dense, inscrutable.
fog, which conceals the train and the tracks that will not let me see a few inches from my nose and I can not decide which way to move or go on that train, but in my case, all the trains are late and I have a ticket for limited mileage.