Cheat For Planetary Pinball

The post that I can not write or post Last

Here comes the last weekend, Friday I greet all of my colleagues, "yanow, if happen to be here, etc.", then I fly to St. Mark's Place for me to make shoes more beautiful in the world from a Russian, I run after gifts, have dinner and then fast I go to Linda, took classic Budweiser, red wine and all the players in full, then leave Juerie Tuti and, inexplicably, and we find ourselves at Luke & Leroy, scene of many battles, such as theft IPOD Juerie of the night then became day and moved to Boston, and dancing, with more and more drunk Leardi lap after lap, with the Ark T-shirts that are being beaten in the face by a DJ, the Beautiful Pea goes to bribe to get a shirt, and then question turns out John Cameron Mitchell, too affectionate but does not surprise me the most, one that will go to Cannes for a film, say, then pizza from Joe's, and drag the Dapple, who has to sleep with me, before the windows of the tattoo still lit, the West 4th, Christopher Street, we sleep on the fly, but we wake up immediately to go to MOMA to see a documentary on Sonic Youth, it pours, and we are late and then take a taxi, but there is a traffic absurd and we decide to do it on the run, twenty blocks in the flood, on the Sixth street, along with the parade of Scots, who illegally crossed three or four times, getting nervous security, then get soaked at the end of the documentary, but no matter, there is barely time for a self-service Chinese before heading home to Brooklyn's aunt Pisello_Bello for a surprise farewell party, chock full of Italian-Americans, ceramic figurines, stuffed with food garlic, Italian music with the dance remix Toto Cutugno early 90s, terrible but sociologically interesting, but the reflections begin shrink, everyone, then drive us to a club where music comes out very reassuring, and then we deviate at the last minute in a bowling alley, I do not win with dignity but where I come behind Juerie, relentless in the strike, then back to Manhattan and go all'Annex, where they dance until the DJ is not forced to cut but gives us, against the will of the bouncer, a Finally, heroic, "Be My Baby" that closes the dance, the first Sunday of delirium, to catch up with the latest gifts with Dapple, and then Linda Juerie, with deviation to the Motor City, where Claudia is waiting for me to greet the Baby Shakes , give me drink up drink, and drink long after we go back to Brooklyn, home of Andrew, which prepares us macaroni with meat sauce, with wine, and the team is complete, missing only Tuti, the evening runs at breakneck speed as all these three months, and we find ourselves on the F subway, all down to 2nd Avenue, but me, I continue to West 4, and so on 2nd Avenue greeting everyone, one by one, until the train unexpectedly resumed speed starts to skid right and left, yet increases speed, I can reach out and take them on the fly, all of them, a human chain at the very time when the train goes off the rails and takes off, turn right and fly over the ' East River,

Getting Preagnet Games

Formed a band, we formed a band. Evincine that was not the last post.

and win it. Do not miss.

Art Brut live at Bowery Ballroom

That fat obese Connie and I finished both the Nutella chocolate Pop Tarts, a betrayal, and this morning I had to eat his bitter peanut butter in the fridge always . Would you like to do the fucking acupuncture, then changed kleptomaniac with anything that has a minimum content of sugar. Bitch.

Today is my penultimate day of internship and received specific death threat 'in the event that I were not able to finish my enthusiastic report. So I have to, listen, listen, work. At least I passed. And thanks to God is reached by the espresso.

time to laugh, I broke my fucking winter for a while 'and therefore I leave the house without a coat defiant. Type yesterday. When in mid morning it started snowing. Bad. Then he stopped, when the sun is.

The singer of Art Brut is doubled compared to last summer's concert in Turin, but homour is still intact ... All text is modified, adapted to New York to date. Emily Kane Type: it seems that just in the morning of Tuesday the lady in person has left a voicemail message to the new Buzzoni. In the photo, the fake fireplace Connie house (you'll pay for the Nutella, bitch).

Next to us a couple of gay rubs and so far so good. When one of them takes my hand, mistaking it for that of the boyfriend, things begin to fall.

Ponys that the Support Group for those who do not know, have a great record called "Celebration Castle". Just to accept, "Glass Conversation" . (service message: Ob1, put it in the compilation of links instead of a crap)

Should I finish the report right now

Also because yesterday the boss' shit the bucks and has also offered lunch by Alfredo, the one who invented the fettuccine Alfredo, for instance. Fettuccine, stir-fry to the Roman, huge T-bone steak, fennel cake (I find them everywhere) and chocolate. all very good, I guess, because this morning I had burned his tongue with yet another coffee (and still do not feel the bitter taste ... if we exclude the peanut butter ... bitch).

The photo I shot at the intersection of Essex and Houston. Anyway.

The head of the Chamber of Commerce is a type in their sixties, Romano, widely shared two passions: wine white break in the afternoon, and bullshit. Thus it was that one day a member of the House, a prominent exponent of quell'accozzaglia simpleton who is the Rotary, he wanted to give him a book on the abolition, and he has bounced back to me, saying he was preparing his thesis on the subject . I have not had the courage to deny, given the joy with which the Rotary gave me the book.

In any event, at Strand Bookstore gave me seven dollars to the brick on slavery. Reinvested, the more cash in abundance, in two volumes. To be precise this:

And this:

Last night I dragged the Leardi and Juerie to see "The Devil and Daniel Johnston, "the documentary about the artist's life outside of the rind of which key members of the new wave rock'n'roll have previously quibble here . The film, predictably, is cool. The Dapple `asleep after one minute and twenty-five. After the film, to dance at Sapphire, just around the corner. The hours are small, but then increased again, reassuring me.

As we said,` come and espresso. It benefits from again, right now, before you get to work. Why work today.

The Worst Horror Movie Ever Made The Remake

steals the fish

There must have pictures but do not work any more the USB cable. never reach the end of the post. But you'll miss the best part .

Richard Ashcroft live at Webster Hall

last Thursday after work, on the way to Columbus Circle (where I, Clare and Annie take the subway), a black guy, in white T-shirt (basic details), began to follow us. I was attached to the butt, literally. At first glance (it's three months I'm looking for a way to use this expression), I thought it would bugger his wallet, then I saw that if I stopped he stopped, crossed through and if so: ergo, he wanted to fuck the shit.

To which we entered a bar, and type ("and" not "e") is one sitting at the table with us. Is there to be specified that he was looking a little reassuring, flap in the mouth, scowl and a hand in his pocket. `To hold who knows what. Type, a CD of Super-Ok! for me to sign. There

fix.

long.

At that, or lemon, or clarify the situation.

"Are you Following us?"
"Yes."

"MMM ... why?"

At the type blabbering something and I understand that it is either a brain-damaged or such marks. The problem is that both categories in the U.S. can buy a gun. I tell him or rising from the dick, or will have to notify the head of the room. Not handle the fuck, I feel the type of local, who tells him that arises from or cock, or will have to call the police. Not rising from the cock, the police arrive.

And in a blaze of pussycat, the cagacazzo is taken away. End of story.

And this was my review of the concert of Richard Ashcroft.

Across the ocean, in the meantime, the Super-Ok! gave the show breaking down the walls of the `House of Blues in Milan slaps of rock and roll ... Go here and download if you have not already done so. Now.


The Spinto Band live at Mercury Lounge

Friday at lunch I can slip into a mega-party for the head of the Italian Post Office, stuff from $ 200 to the skull on the top of Rockefeller Center, with sensational views (I saw the first tower of the District Quadrifoglio). Menu-based Capri and Wiener schnitzel, spectacular ... Laughing and joking, is three months that I cook exclusively with Barilla pasta sauce Bertolli Tomato & Basil, with variations entrusted with salted butter and pepper ... Cretan olive oil bought in bulk from Connie, steak, sometimes a tomato. Swiss Pudding. Budweiser. Even a cappuccino, it makes my life different.

am receptionist and the representation of journalists of RAI Corporation is entrusted to none other than pea in person ... I can not help myself and laugh in the face. The cameraman is amego another mine in the middle of the service, broadcast worldwide by RAI International, there is one view that follows a young, elegant and charming manager, which crosses the room, pretending to greet everyone he meets, with a friendly but decisive step. That managers clearly songe ie. The wine is reloaded without even asking and in less than no time me and my tutor Ridarolo we encounter the more thrust in the middle of the intervention of Mr. Italian Post Office. My workday officially ends when we come nell'incustodito table of super-spirits.


Came the Leardi

Saturday night bouncing between a wine bar and the other, after being bounced from a party with free drinks to calls, just because we did not have the invitation and arrived after the end of the party ... Damn Yankees. Some wanted to get us into the Crobar but we managed to escape wisely.

And so comes the most beautiful Sunday in the history of Sundays and I find myself turning to the shirt in the city, looking for purchases ordered (just you, dear commenters) and with the clear intent to produce melatonin, for therapeutic purposes . By Linda Juerie and we embark on the journey of Manhattan, six-row starting from the Lower Side, going back to 2nd Avenue, stopping at St.Mark 's Place, before moving to Astor Place, come down' in University Place, crossing Broadway, to plunge to Sun in Washington Square Park. There is a frenzy of people playing, svaccati the lawn, and for the first time in three months, I relax, you I relax. For a few minutes. While I drink a coffee in the sun, in the Independent Republic of Washington Square .

And in the evening comes the Dapple, pal of the University which starts an internship at Equinox at Columbus Circle (where the gym so long ago I went to show off my athleticism `). And the week promises to be delusional.


Tonight

To conclude, I dreamed that Leardi was at my house and Connie approached me and asked "when she leaves the Leardi I have to fart? But much I care ... I already made silent. " I believe that a dream is just so sick due to extreme turbulence coming from the bed at night Connie. Or perhaps it is because of that moving speech that I heard yesterday on the Internet. No, really, the final ballet was a blast. When she finally told me, I was moved. I still believe in our dream. I'm not a jerk. Or at least, technically we could not be `. I'll be back on 11 morning.