is not nine.
1x1
just returned from walking to the center. I went to get a half rack wide, where you can begin the first painting I want to do this summer. It is not, however, of a work of those who crave madly and hope for a long time. No. The painting I bought the chassis will be a beautiful vase that then try to offer pituca friends of my mother, with the sole purpose of taking a good bit of money. Paint
flowers from It is certainly not the issue that most excites me, but, having for half of my summer work to mere profit, then it's not like me cause unbearable tedium. Years ago I do not do a study on natural paint, as we shall see how that goes. 1x2
On Monday fell unexpectedly drunk until very late hours of the new Tuesday. It was a pleasant experience in the splendor of the moment. I shared the table, the glasses of rum, and a very long walk at dawn, people are very posh, with which however had not previously had the opportunity to go out partying so. Obviously, my connection with them and they was not instantaneous. I feel descomputado long and tense little something to get into the jaws of a new group (much more so, when to give the scope, they already have good time together). The comfort-sober-with new people, I rarely simple. I require to accept the passage of minutes and give me wholeheartedly swallow the sweet hypnosis. I've always wondered if others will feel uneasy with me that bare wire. Still, I never dared to ask. 1x3
Uncle Miki's mom makes yesterday, and one who wakes me in the prologue reasonable hour of my day. I open the door to my room feeling a severe sore throat. Burning, rather. The reason your presence in my dome is inexorable, he thought it was time to fix that old record player that gave me a few years ago, and I never had the willingness to take him to repair to work. The truth therefore is that if it was my Uncle Miki ... right now the gadget would still support the package of magazines and papers bastards who for some reason, still keep an old piece of furniture in my room Arequipa. I give the order, grateful, and I think that silence was a beautiful and unexpected way to start the day.
I swim, lunch with a meal from the inspiration of Mrs. Flora, and some remain dormant for a few minutes watching a new chapter of the long dead and ancient series "Behind the Crime" (yes, the behavior of the multifaceted Colonel Benedicto Jiménez). Back to my room to draw or attempt to compose something on the guitar, and suddenly the phone rings. Miki is the guy to tell me already repaired the turntable, which have put the needle was missing, and that 10 minutes is for me to pick it up. Apparently, he was very quick thing. 2x1
I get to the center, a little more hectic than normal. I have some difficulties breathing and I have the feeling of being watched by someone. Ideas of mine, nothing more, but equally I can not help feeling my figure among many unknown figures, such as an alien. In the art shop, presumably one of the only 2 available to Arequipa, the lady who served me indicates that it currently only has tiny racks. Ah yes! Also available in your fucking acrylic display case, are for use as a Lilliputian. For the eggs I came to the center, if there is what I ask, I'd rather not buy anything better. 2x2
The talks on Monday on "The Office" focused on sexual conflicts and social. In itself, one is already too talkative when in the bottom of the tide alcoholic. Speak, scream, stand, and goes on to detail fonomímicas unstable old stories. It goes to the bathroom and talks to the device as a friend. Returns to the table and continued talking. Gone are the vague beginning of the whole race. Nothing undermines the efficient high-fidelity in my audio player, where I am and are all around me, ethyl soaked. Alcohol gives pleasure, what we do! And more than that-perhaps-inevitable always the next day ... I think it is worth looking too hilación to what one feels like to move in 2 totally different states, such as sobriety and drunkenness. I can not against my body chemistry, and the pure torture when I have everything past, with the usual questions, in my role as incurable drunk, until today continued making me. Is it worth philosophize drunkenness, drunkenness after itself? Geez, I dunno, to me it seems, it just ends up making me feel like my own Cardinal Cipriani (kill that son of a bitch), looking for any defects in my personality, so horrified and then flogged. 2x3
The teacher left the player running of shit, now my uncle Miki wanted to know where we could buy some LP to prove it. The teacher mentioned a place called "The Grind", which is the avenue Goyeneche and not more than one row business of books, Victrola, and all kinds of artifacts in use, whose odd name is justified by the adjacent dental offices that are in the same block. There are, in the first place that welcomes us to "The Grind", a large pile of soiled vinyl, what nameless dead in a mass grave, waiting for who knows, crowded the arrival of a debtor to acknowledge with gratitude the enjoyed good they were as effective. My uncle is surprised. He certainly knows better than me using these discs, and I can tell, while selecting the units that together we'd get home, right back in their eyes for a past that was able to enjoy much.
3x1
Tired and walking and shopping in vain to enter, I realize that I was persuaded by chance by a sign advertising beer in the Ad Libitum. Was written in English and could not be more encouraging: "Cold beer S/7.oo."
being almost 5 pm, I was in an empty bar and no music, watching through the large window that opened onto my desk, trucks and people traveled down the street. Since then, everything had a dark hue. The emptiness and silence of the room, the big dirty glass window, and the manager, who seemed resigned to Ahués without really knowing what the hell do great bar supported in the antrum. Well, I brought the beer and thanked him because it was really cold. And so I drink it little by little, to take in some time back to my home. Watching beautiful young tourists arm looked a little loving hippie madeinperu showers. Thinking of nonsense. Making me the interesting with my draft beer and my outsider's eyes. In this, the administrator decides to turn on the music. Thank you, from my inside-the gesture, as I was still unthinkable to be in a bar without being accompanied by a theme. The guy achunta and go that way! Unplugged starts sounding the Rod Stewart "Maggie May", and I am happy. I feel that the type of Ad Libitum has committed my soul, knowing that with the unmistakable voice of the old Rod would give me a good time. Now I forget the scenes of the street and start to enjoy myself just me. Music continues with "Hot Legs" and revelry breaks out in my area. I enjoy every last drop and I feel like a lifelong parishioner at this tavern, which in my mind (because as the music) is not more on Calle San Francisco de Arequipa, but in some distant basement Glasgow. Follow "Hot Legs", and when I approached to pay the old beautiful, 'ta give me a horrible leg cramp. He died the song, Chau cold beer! Chau Hot Legs!
3x2
Before falling asleep, and now a little recovered from my total state of parking in the Trusca rum, turn on the TV to watch a movie that, if possible, to achieve stunning to think me out of both pig eggs flying. Meeting, just starting out, a well posh with Will Smith and his son, which Andruko my friend had told me once, en route to a New Year in Camaná. His name was "The Pursuit Of Happyness" (as with 'y'), and is a man who is at a crucial moment in his life, as the economy begins to fall precipitously. This gradually begins to wreak havoc on family life, and so one day his wife announces that long of a home as he is already fed up with the bastard fails to do anything to improve things. The type, though sad and seeing that there is nothing I can do to prevent the departure of its nori, accepts the decision, but asking only condition to the weak, that is not carried to their young child. So, he manages to keep the guaguita, though, that the living hell that would eventually take the most unimaginable poverty, new start. However, Chris Gardner (the name of the protagonist) has the most pugnacious and persistent spirit of humanity, and does pluck up the courage to keep her quiet when adversity and is a killer. Decides to play the last card left and begins to prepare in the midst of all the chaos of daily life, to yield a test that, if approved, will end up opening the doors of the great business, and, logically, changing the entire course of their destiny.
The story that is worth to note, is a real life case, managed to snag a very strong and the courage to face problems, do not drown in them, and seek in any way possible in the unfortunate fate that we of our merit, that wastes Cris Gardner. Additionally I was impressed to see how the fucking, and about to lose his sanity, never lost in any way the sensitivity and tact continue to treat your child as a child. Tried not to download them to the kid, but rather, take the innocence of their children's little questions like the best medicine to their great efforts and pressure from his unhappy reality.
made me think hard about how valuable it is to not shy away from a situation. That is, not giving turns to crying cuchumil by poverty, but a breath, wash your face with ice cold water, and immediately begin to act to reverse that slump. In the end, Chris Gardner gets the highest test score and is chosen to keep the job. Today commands an empire of bussiness in North America. And I could sleep after learning its history, with a pleasant and inspiring sense of hot chocolate in the soul. 3x3
15 are the LP's that my uncle Miki kindly give me. Luquitas were 2 each, so not to miss. True discoveries we find in "The Grind." A compiladaso of Bread, the Rock Of The Westies of Elton John, under the covers of Jimmy Santy eighties and very fascinating, the first part of the Life Master Ruben Blades, Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends, Esther Phillips, an obscure new wave band called mapocho half Pouch, Barry White, a former live-Moot And The Hoople Ian Hunter, the first We All Together ... among others. I thanked him greatly to my beloved uncle for both day offerings. We walked back to the parking lot and I recalled old moon to tell what "pendejitas" who were in their times, girls of the School Chaves de La Rosa. With great patience and enthusiasm, teaching, and knew of my cave tour on the modus operandi of the turntables, trying not to leave in the air any details that might spoil the ideal performance of my new toy musical. A great big my uncle Miguel Del Carpio Härter! And later, I had to be catatonic when the needle spun the disc side B under the covers of Jimmy Santy. Ni imagine, guys, for the delight that I speak. There will be opportunity to hear together.
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