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.
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