Man and / or pork?
to XD Ok, the only way he can understand those who have read carefully (no, not worth the summaries of the English test in high school!) That little delight that is Animal Farm (ah, Orwell) then I apologize.
This place comes from a reflection of my 160 minutes by train (with about 40 and passes). Undecided about which book to bring to pass the time, I pulled out almost at random from my battery-read-before-or-later Fahrenheit 451. Relaxing reading, I think.
Wrong. Apart from the first, confusing introduction to the history pages, is passionate and deep. Basically there is a terrible reflection on the future of the human race, so prophetic that came near the end caught me a tremendous sense of nausea (exacerbated by the special that I can not hear their books burned XD It goes against everything they have based my life! )
I have read almost all books of fiction of the 'old school' by Verne, Orwell, Asimov ... although I've probably never as beloved genre (for me to remain on all the fantasy and history, not forgetting the thriller or horror, when he still wrote something really horror) I've never been disappointed. But I came to do a couple of considerations.
All authors from the beginning of the century until the '50s, aided by the historical period of transition, world wars, the collapse of Wall Street and so on. etc.. were affected by a deep mistrust of the human race. None of them, ever, give hope to a humanity destined to self-destruction now mental and material well-being. We are the product of a post-industrial revolution, where the object, the thing, the property is invaluable and that human life is rubbish. Brains harvested from 24h on 24 large screens that project 'images full of color' but devoid of content, where we are constantly monitored, analyzed, poisoned by a universal nothing against which we have not (and do not want to have) defenses. A general 'pull the plug, boys' and leaves a deep sense of depression, because although these authors have seen the beginning, we shall live with the consequences.
I live in a world where you have the latest fashion sweater Zara and just missed. Where to thirteen years you have to start breaking for the plate to the mother, the cosmetics, designer clothes, to sneak out on Saturday night to go clubbing. Learning to smoke, drink strong stuff, maybe try something more heavy once in a while to unpack, have fun. If you complete the slam into a car by just a pimply eighteen-cool but you're alright. You can spend the rest of your teenage years to repeat the same things and get bored.
There is no escape. You are constantly bombarded by advertising and ipercolorate absurd, inconsistent desires live following, and you're empty, empty, empty.
Fahrenheit 451 begins with the phrase " It was a joy to start the fire. "Putting aside the delusion of an accomplished arsonist safe, even if the context is different following this sentence, I completely understand what drove the author to write XD (Although I can generally be serene, if not happy, even amid the sea of shit that is the company U_U)
(I am the old lady if you must burn the books, it does so in person and at the same time by fire.)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
2001 Mustang Engine Diagram
The Pisan ...
Pisa is a strange city. It goes from hot to cold torrential storms in one day (but this is normal everywhere now). I hits the Tower of Pisa, so particular, and the surrounding area neat and clean in an almost manic, and you just a few feet away, explore the narrow alleys of the city, you have to do to jump to avoid garbage scattered around to mo 'trap.
Street vendors (and illegal) to every street corner, offering a wide range of tarot course, that change immediately umbrellas of various shapes as soon as the sky darkens (increasing the price by 50% when it starts raining really)
And people. People here do not know half-measures. As with any purely tourist town, or for students, meeting really nice people, those pamper you without being asked, you smile, give you free sandwiches, help you find your way or pay at the table, we just advise on purchases made or intends to do. Then, like a cold shower, you clash with the passer-by, the next seller. Rude, nervous, rude. Ask that they will end the work started and they answer wrong, the fact that you're a strong girl, young and alone, without the direct support of parents who are far away, you reproached not to call the phone number that they themselves have given you, you monologues about how to make them are poor and honest workers who only work their week and leave you without hot water because it is tiring care of this. You enter the house without even asking permission, stick their noses in the rooms and they tell you to paint the walls of a house you've rented for three days. They make you wait hours in line at the information service, with the application form filled out for the membership card in hand, disappear for hours hoping you will give up and you go, even the intercom call a colleague who is taking this membership card lying two feet from them on the same bench that the waste and gives you the cursing. People who are small, and when you, with a fake smile on his face but cheerful, thanking them for their kindly and thoroughly infinite patience, care to point out to him with small gestures clothes soaked with water, the broken umbrella, the three heavy shopping bags in hand, coughed slightly to emphasize the probable pneumonia that you took to wait for them comfortable. And then you look for the very first time, with those eyes that always elusive avoid cross your eyes or staring at you with arrogance, and perhaps feel the first signs of shame (the clerks of the PAM), and a bit of sound fear that it never hurts when you retire in a separate room, being careful not to close the door firmly and speaking loudly with the roommate who, of course, by today if not solve the problem of hot water called the friend lawyer, so Photos of the house as they gave us and the work we have done, that we remain quiet even without showers, but remain without underwear. And the infinite satisfaction of feeling devilish hurry to dial the number, and speak in whispers urgently oh these girls mean business, and now what? Calm now solve now you keep them calm
Patience is the most precious treasure that you can own. The kindness, even false, the second.
balls only the priceless treasure of these treasures. And it is better that they are of steel.
Pisa is a strange city. It goes from hot to cold torrential storms in one day (but this is normal everywhere now). I hits the Tower of Pisa, so particular, and the surrounding area neat and clean in an almost manic, and you just a few feet away, explore the narrow alleys of the city, you have to do to jump to avoid garbage scattered around to mo 'trap.
Street vendors (and illegal) to every street corner, offering a wide range of tarot course, that change immediately umbrellas of various shapes as soon as the sky darkens (increasing the price by 50% when it starts raining really)
And people. People here do not know half-measures. As with any purely tourist town, or for students, meeting really nice people, those pamper you without being asked, you smile, give you free sandwiches, help you find your way or pay at the table, we just advise on purchases made or intends to do. Then, like a cold shower, you clash with the passer-by, the next seller. Rude, nervous, rude. Ask that they will end the work started and they answer wrong, the fact that you're a strong girl, young and alone, without the direct support of parents who are far away, you reproached not to call the phone number that they themselves have given you, you monologues about how to make them are poor and honest workers who only work their week and leave you without hot water because it is tiring care of this. You enter the house without even asking permission, stick their noses in the rooms and they tell you to paint the walls of a house you've rented for three days. They make you wait hours in line at the information service, with the application form filled out for the membership card in hand, disappear for hours hoping you will give up and you go, even the intercom call a colleague who is taking this membership card lying two feet from them on the same bench that the waste and gives you the cursing. People who are small, and when you, with a fake smile on his face but cheerful, thanking them for their kindly and thoroughly infinite patience, care to point out to him with small gestures clothes soaked with water, the broken umbrella, the three heavy shopping bags in hand, coughed slightly to emphasize the probable pneumonia that you took to wait for them comfortable. And then you look for the very first time, with those eyes that always elusive avoid cross your eyes or staring at you with arrogance, and perhaps feel the first signs of shame (the clerks of the PAM), and a bit of sound fear that it never hurts when you retire in a separate room, being careful not to close the door firmly and speaking loudly with the roommate who, of course, by today if not solve the problem of hot water called the friend lawyer, so Photos of the house as they gave us and the work we have done, that we remain quiet even without showers, but remain without underwear. And the infinite satisfaction of feeling devilish hurry to dial the number, and speak in whispers urgently oh these girls mean business, and now what? Calm now solve now you keep them calm
Patience is the most precious treasure that you can own. The kindness, even false, the second.
balls only the priceless treasure of these treasures. And it is better that they are of steel.
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