Monday, January 31, 2011

Why Do Hot Cheetos Hurt Your Stomach

The


Gynecomastia can be caused by various causes including: hormonal or chromosomal disorders, obesity or an anomaly of the mammary glands, so the solution to this problem can be solved by surgery. The surgical intervention in question is of short duration and, as with any surgical procedure is done under local anesthesia as sedation, and immediately after surgery, the patient can return directly home after a couple of hours.
But, exactly, what is this intervention surgery? In practice, a remodeling of the chest is performed with the consequent elimination of the mammary glands in excess. The incision made on the skin is performed along a small stretch of the areolar perimeter, and this facilitates the healing process and, furthermore, the sign is almost imperceptible.
Once the excess has been taken of the glands, is made a seam appearance and its bandage. Both procedures have a duration of about 30 minutes and are inconclusive.

Why Do Hot Cheetos Hurt Your Stomach

The


Gynecomastia can be caused by various causes including: hormonal or chromosomal disorders, obesity or an anomaly of the mammary glands, so the solution to this problem can be solved by surgery. The surgical intervention in question is of short duration and, as with any surgical procedure is done under local anesthesia as sedation, and immediately after surgery, the patient can return directly home after a couple of hours.
But, exactly, what is this intervention surgery? In practice, a remodeling of the chest is performed with the consequent elimination of the mammary glands in excess. The incision made on the skin is performed along a small stretch of the areolar perimeter, and this facilitates the healing process and, furthermore, the sign is almost imperceptible.
Once the excess has been taken of the glands, is made a seam appearance and its bandage. Both procedures have a duration of about 30 minutes and are inconclusive.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Cubefield Unbounded Games

Tudor Arghezi


Arghezi Tudor (pen name of Ion Teodorescu) was born in Bucharest in 1880, a working-class family. He was a poet, novelist, journalist and is widely considered the greatest poet of Romania 900. Experienced the prison in the first world war, the Nazi concentration camp during and cultural ostracism of the second year in the so-called "socialist realism". Author refined, ranging from highly social, cultivated a difficult poem, but at the same time for immediate availability, which can be read and appreciated by all. He started his career in literature relatively late in 1927 with the collection of poems Agreements words, followed by other volumes of poetry: Flower mold (1931), Leaves (1961), New poems (1963), Night (1967), Rami (1970, posthumous). The central themes of his poetry, as well as those of a social nature as mentioned above, are passionate and contradictory relationship with the divine, the creator and man as a social being, household things and feelings.
Arghezi also wrote in prose. In particular we remember the stories he The black door (1930), and novels Icons on wood (1930), Annunciation Cemetery (1936), Lucky Planets (1946), Old World , a new world (1958), with the stick to Bucharest (1961).
Arghezi Tudor died in Bucharest in 1967.


Poetics.

Tudor's poetry can Arghezi be regarded as a milestone in the evolution of Romania's poetry, it has represented a wide range of topics, introducing new aesthetic universes and giving a status to lyrical words considered "unpoetic. The central theme in the poetry argheziana concern is the lucid consciousness, always intended to search for answers about the human questions about the meaning of life, death, as well as on knowledge, rapprto between man and God, etc..
In the verses of " Psalmi ," the poet is between two opposing attitudes, not knowing which path to choose.
The doubt arises continually in the struggle between faith and denial, between certainty and uncertainty, the rebellion and resignation, the strength and fragility. The suffering of the poet is caused by the absence of the divine, the human awareness of his loneliness in the universe, from prey to impotence and imperfection.
Arghezi knows he can not invoke the deity, knowing that you will not receive, however, no response. Hence the drama of the poet, causing a sense of futility and disappointment. Tudor Arghezi remains primarily a poet of the doubt. Its balance between prayer and the strong denial, certainly not defined as a "religious spirit", but neither makes him a "poet of faith." Arghezi not believe, but it stubbornly to search for the sacred, refusing to accept the prospect of nothing. Although the love of god it is clear, often acting with the spirit of the Christian poet and obedient.
Another aspect of the poem Arghezi the fate of the artist. He wonders if the artist must be committed to the creation or, instead, to live a normal life like any mortal. Arghezi in the conception of man and God have in common the ability to create. The poet, with his art, is detached in this way, the other his fellows, approaching the condition of (almost) deity.
Many poems focus on the theme of death: " Niciodata toamna ", " Duhovniceasca ", " De-a v-ati ascuns "," Tarana Intoarcere-n "and" Ceasul de apoio . "If the" Psalm "reflected in the oscillation of the attitude toward the divine, that is, in fact, by 'adulation to contestation, with regard to the death, his thought is united in not accepting it. In this sense he differs from those writers Romanians who see in death a natural predestination to ultimate peace. So death does not necessarily mean romantic reconciliation Arghezi with nothing but a sort of repeated blows to the waking consciousness. He sees life as a game whose ultimate purpose remains unknown.
Arghezi has a restless spirit, a problem that tends to look at everything with clarity: life, death, god. Trying to reach the transcendent, gives his poetry a tension only focused on the expression of worship and cry endlessly.
conclusion, the work argheziana has a very high value for the Rumanian literature and this has been translated into many languages \u200b\u200bfrom different personalities of world literature (Salvatore Quasimodo, Rafael Alberti, Ianis Ritsos, etc.).. His poetic production can be evaluated and compared in terms of value with that of famous poets such as Rilke RM, Garcia Lorca, Paul Claudel, Paul Eluard, and so on.



Arghezi Tudor Two poems translated by Salvatore Quasimodo.

TESTAMENT

At my death I'll let my verse:
nothing but a name, enclosed in a book. In the darkness
in revolt,
that my ancestors come up to you, my fathers
crawled like animals
along cliffs and precipices,
now await you, my young son
my book is a step up again. Put


head of the bed with devout piety is the oldest paper

you servants of the liberation from rough cloaks
full of bones spilled into me.

Now we can change for the first time
the hoe with pen and ink in the groove because
our ancestors, one of the oxen gilded,

sweat gathered the work of hundreds of years.
From their voices urging the cattle
I created measures, agreements
words and cots for the future masters: and for thousands of weeks,
working as a bread, I turned
in dreams and icons. From rags
sprouted buds and garlands.
I changed into honey got the poison, leaving entire
its gentle power. Spinning the offense slightly

I did persuade and blasphemy.
I got home from the ashes of the dead
to raise a god of stone, with its two worlds
high slopes
to Watch on top of your duty.

Our dull pain
bitter and I just picked up a violin master

danced to his notes like a goat being slaughtered.
from wounds from molds I made from mud
born beauty and new values.
The whiplash
change in slow words, punishment
forgiving children
the crime that was all.
This is justice made to branch out from the forest
obscure the sun, from which branch
bunch of moles
check as the result of punishment for all eternity.

lazy lying on the couch

suffer the little princess in my book.
The word of fire and that made art
to join the page as
the sealer covers the red-hot iron.
The servant has written, the law lord
and does not see that deep inside there is all the rage
of my ancestors.



FLOWERS MOLD

Writing with the nail on the plaster,
into an empty niche,
the dark, alone,
with my strength,

without help of the lion or the bull 's eagle

who worked with Luke, Mark and John.
verses are undated tomb

verses of hunger and thirst for water
ash,
verses today.
When the nail is broken angel
I waited to grow, but is no longer

checked or I did not recognize.
was dark. Away, away, the rain poured down. The claw-like hand

painful and could not move.
I had to write with the nails of the left.

Cubefield Unbounded Games

Tudor Arghezi


Arghezi Tudor (pen name of Ion Teodorescu) was born in Bucharest in 1880, a working-class family. He was a poet, novelist, journalist and is widely considered the greatest poet of Romania 900. Experienced the prison in the first world war, the Nazi concentration camp during and cultural ostracism of the second year in the so-called "socialist realism". Author refined, ranging from highly social, cultivated a difficult poem, but at the same time for immediate availability, which can be read and appreciated by all. He started his career in literature relatively late in 1927 with the collection of poems Agreements words, followed by other volumes of poetry: Flower mold (1931), Leaves (1961), New poems (1963), Night (1967), Rami (1970, posthumous). The central themes of his poetry, as well as those of a social nature as mentioned above, are passionate and contradictory relationship with the divine, the creator and man as a social being, household things and feelings.
Arghezi also wrote in prose. In particular we remember the stories he The black door (1930), and novels Icons on wood (1930), Annunciation Cemetery (1936), Lucky Planets (1946), Old World , a new world (1958), with the stick to Bucharest (1961).
Arghezi Tudor died in Bucharest in 1967.


Poetics.

Tudor's poetry can Arghezi be regarded as a milestone in the evolution of Romania's poetry, it has represented a wide range of topics, introducing new aesthetic universes and giving a status to lyrical words considered "unpoetic. The central theme in the poetry argheziana concern is the lucid consciousness, always intended to search for answers about the human questions about the meaning of life, death, as well as on knowledge, rapprto between man and God, etc..
In the verses of " Psalmi ," the poet is between two opposing attitudes, not knowing which path to choose.
The doubt arises continually in the struggle between faith and denial, between certainty and uncertainty, the rebellion and resignation, the strength and fragility. The suffering of the poet is caused by the absence of the divine, the human awareness of his loneliness in the universe, from prey to impotence and imperfection.
Arghezi knows he can not invoke the deity, knowing that you will not receive, however, no response. Hence the drama of the poet, causing a sense of futility and disappointment. Tudor Arghezi remains primarily a poet of the doubt. Its balance between prayer and the strong denial, certainly not defined as a "religious spirit", but neither makes him a "poet of faith." Arghezi not believe, but it stubbornly to search for the sacred, refusing to accept the prospect of nothing. Although the love of god it is clear, often acting with the spirit of the Christian poet and obedient.
Another aspect of the poem Arghezi the fate of the artist. He wonders if the artist must be committed to the creation or, instead, to live a normal life like any mortal. Arghezi in the conception of man and God have in common the ability to create. The poet, with his art, is detached in this way, the other his fellows, approaching the condition of (almost) deity.
Many poems focus on the theme of death: " Niciodata toamna ", " Duhovniceasca ", " De-a v-ati ascuns "," Tarana Intoarcere-n "and" Ceasul de apoio . "If the" Psalm "reflected in the oscillation of the attitude toward the divine, that is, in fact, by 'adulation to contestation, with regard to the death, his thought is united in not accepting it. In this sense he differs from those writers Romanians who see in death a natural predestination to ultimate peace. So death does not necessarily mean romantic reconciliation Arghezi with nothing but a sort of repeated blows to the waking consciousness. He sees life as a game whose ultimate purpose remains unknown.
Arghezi has a restless spirit, a problem that tends to look at everything with clarity: life, death, god. Trying to reach the transcendent, gives his poetry a tension only focused on the expression of worship and cry endlessly.
conclusion, the work argheziana has a very high value for the Rumanian literature and this has been translated into many languages \u200b\u200bfrom different personalities of world literature (Salvatore Quasimodo, Rafael Alberti, Ianis Ritsos, etc.).. His poetic production can be evaluated and compared in terms of value with that of famous poets such as Rilke RM, Garcia Lorca, Paul Claudel, Paul Eluard, and so on.



Arghezi Tudor Two poems translated by Salvatore Quasimodo.

TESTAMENT

At my death I'll let my verse:
nothing but a name, enclosed in a book. In the darkness
in revolt,
that my ancestors come up to you, my fathers
crawled like animals
along cliffs and precipices,
now await you, my young son
my book is a step up again. Put


head of the bed with devout piety is the oldest paper

you servants of the liberation from rough cloaks
full of bones spilled into me.

Now we can change for the first time
the hoe with pen and ink in the groove because
our ancestors, one of the oxen gilded,

sweat gathered the work of hundreds of years.
From their voices urging the cattle
I created measures, agreements
words and cots for the future masters: and for thousands of weeks,
working as a bread, I turned
in dreams and icons. From rags
sprouted buds and garlands.
I changed into honey got the poison, leaving entire
its gentle power. Spinning the offense slightly

I did persuade and blasphemy.
I got home from the ashes of the dead
to raise a god of stone, with its two worlds
high slopes
to Watch on top of your duty.

Our dull pain
bitter and I just picked up a violin master

danced to his notes like a goat being slaughtered.
from wounds from molds I made from mud
born beauty and new values.
The whiplash
change in slow words, punishment
forgiving children
the crime that was all.
This is justice made to branch out from the forest
obscure the sun, from which branch
bunch of moles
check as the result of punishment for all eternity.

lazy lying on the couch

suffer the little princess in my book.
The word of fire and that made art
to join the page as
the sealer covers the red-hot iron.
The servant has written, the law lord
and does not see that deep inside there is all the rage
of my ancestors.



FLOWERS MOLD

Writing with the nail on the plaster,
into an empty niche,
the dark, alone,
with my strength,

without help of the lion or the bull 's eagle

who worked with Luke, Mark and John.
verses are undated tomb

verses of hunger and thirst for water
ash,
verses today.
When the nail is broken angel
I waited to grow, but is no longer

checked or I did not recognize.
was dark. Away, away, the rain poured down. The claw-like hand

painful and could not move.
I had to write with the nails of the left.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Sugar Cookies Nutrition Values

Ezra Pound by Ricky



What I really love remains, and the rest
'waste
What I really love you will not be' ripped
What I really love and 'your true legacy'
The world belongs to those who , to me, they
or none?
First came the seen, then the
palpable Elysium, though it was in the halls of hell,
What I really love and 'your true legacy'
The ant and 'a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity ', it was not the man
To create the courage, or order, or pardon,
Pull down thy vanity', I say pull the green world
Learn what your place in
measure of the invention, or the real ability 'of the craftsman,
Pull down thy vanity',
Paquin pull down! The green helmet
won your elegance.
"domains, and others will bear" Pull down thy vanity
'
you a beaten dog beneath the hail, A pica
swelling in a spasm of sun,
Meta' half black 'white
Ne 'wing distinguish from a queue
Pull down thy vanity'
How are your petty grudges
Nourished by false '.
Pull down thy vanity ', to destroy
Greedy, greedy of charity',
Pull down thy vanity ', I say pull
.
But to have done instead of not having done
this is not 'vanity' Have
, with discretion, knocked
Why 'a Blunt
opened by the wind having picked up a living tradition
or an old flame beauteous eyes inviolate
This is not 'vanity'.
Here the error and 'in cio'che and not' done in the suspicion that he hesitated.

Sugar Cookies Nutrition Values

Ezra Pound by Ricky



What I really love remains, and the rest
'waste
What I really love you will not be' ripped
What I really love and 'your true legacy'
The world belongs to those who , to me, they
or none?
First came the seen, then the
palpable Elysium, though it was in the halls of hell,
What I really love and 'your true legacy'
The ant and 'a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity ', it was not the man
To create the courage, or order, or pardon,
Pull down thy vanity', I say pull the green world
Learn what your place in
measure of the invention, or the real ability 'of the craftsman,
Pull down thy vanity',
Paquin pull down! The green helmet
won your elegance.
"domains, and others will bear" Pull down thy vanity
'
you a beaten dog beneath the hail, A pica
swelling in a spasm of sun,
Meta' half black 'white
Ne 'wing distinguish from a queue
Pull down thy vanity'
How are your petty grudges
Nourished by false '.
Pull down thy vanity ', to destroy
Greedy, greedy of charity',
Pull down thy vanity ', I say pull
.
But to have done instead of not having done
this is not 'vanity' Have
, with discretion, knocked
Why 'a Blunt
opened by the wind having picked up a living tradition
or an old flame beauteous eyes inviolate
This is not 'vanity'.
Here the error and 'in cio'che and not' done in the suspicion that he hesitated.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Calorie Beef Chow Mein

ON HIGH WATER





A PHENOMENON ugly and not without dangers of Intensification of high water

The anomalous intensification of high water in recent years, with levels for the most likely to overwhelm virtually all of Venice, is causing, along with an increase in problems and difficulties always associated with high water, an ugly phenomenon and not without dangers, before the intensification of the latter, was limited to the foundations of the lowest parts of the city: the root of the algae growing on the surface of even those foundations which, although located in areas considered relatively high and for Venice to no end submerged in the water each arrival high, however, are finite and unusually long submerged in recent times (ENZO PEDROCCHI)


Calorie Beef Chow Mein

ON HIGH WATER





A PHENOMENON ugly and not without dangers of Intensification of high water

The anomalous intensification of high water in recent years, with levels for the most likely to overwhelm virtually all of Venice, is causing, along with an increase in problems and difficulties always associated with high water, an ugly phenomenon and not without dangers, before the intensification of the latter, was limited to the foundations of the lowest parts of the city: the root of the algae growing on the surface of even those foundations which, although located in areas considered relatively high and for Venice to no end submerged in the water each arrival high, however, are finite and unusually long submerged in recent times (ENZO PEDROCCHI)


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Tiffany And Co. 2010 Christmas Advertisement

BEAUTY CONTEST FELINA



The most 'beautiful CATS IN THE WORLD EXHIBITION
SATURDAY AND SUNDAY AT THE ANKLE

This year 103 of the passenger terminal Tronchetto, Saturday and Sunday will be held on international beauty contest held by the National Feline Feline Italian, now in its fourth edition.

As explained by Constance Daraga, organizer of the competition, at the press conference within a few days ago Customs' is a beautiful exhibition of nearly 500 cats this year than previous editions, will present some new non-trivial: Saturday at 16 there will be a review of the Birman, which are about 38, while on Sunday , at 10, there will be one of the 60 Maine Coon cats from all over the world, with the awarding of the best entrusted, as in previous years, a jury of six persons. "

Reviews which is however not the only novelty of this edition. In addition to these there will, in fact, also free entry to the exhibition of children under the age of twelve, "because we believe that it is their right to understand what a cat - he said, inter alia, Constance Daraga - to learn to respect and value it. "

Tiffany And Co. 2010 Christmas Advertisement

BEAUTY CONTEST FELINA



The most 'beautiful CATS IN THE WORLD EXHIBITION
SATURDAY AND SUNDAY AT THE ANKLE

This year 103 of the passenger terminal Tronchetto, Saturday and Sunday will be held on international beauty contest held by the National Feline Feline Italian, now in its fourth edition.

As explained by Constance Daraga, organizer of the competition, at the press conference within a few days ago Customs' is a beautiful exhibition of nearly 500 cats this year than previous editions, will present some new non-trivial: Saturday at 16 there will be a review of the Birman, which are about 38, while on Sunday , at 10, there will be one of the 60 Maine Coon cats from all over the world, with the awarding of the best entrusted, as in previous years, a jury of six persons. "

Reviews which is however not the only novelty of this edition. In addition to these there will, in fact, also free entry to the exhibition of children under the age of twelve, "because we believe that it is their right to understand what a cat - he said, inter alia, Constance Daraga - to learn to respect and value it. "

Neat Ideas Cube Cages Images

Farina Vittorio Sereni, the poet insecurity


... In his continuing need for certification - as a recovery in its history and pursuit of dialogue and reflection in the 'other' - the author of human Tools typically qualifies insecurity as a poet, of the threat: first report insecurity, which causes the phenomena of redundancy and pronunciation is so insistent in part, linked to the stylistic feature of the iteration, as well as doubt about their identity and continued slumps even random declaration of identity . [...].
(PV Mengaldo, 1972)


Vittorio Sereni was born July 27, 1913 in Luino, on Lake Maggiore. From 12 years up to 1933 was at Brescia, where his father had been transferred, Customs, and where he studied. Then he lived in Milan, graduating in literature in 1936 with a thesis on Guido Gozzano. Among his classmates remember Antonia Pozzi, Luciano Ancelin, Remo Cantoni, among the literary friendships include Carlo Bo, Sergio Solmi Pratolini Vasco, Mario Luzi, Elio Vittorini. He was among the founders of Current , of \u200b\u200bwhich he was also editor with Del Bo, Lattuada, De Grada, Treccani, and collaborated on Cover , Campo di Marte, Literature. After having taught briefly at Modena and marrying Maria Luisa Bonfanti, in 1941 he was assigned as an infantry officer, department, "Pistoia", intended for the North African front, that year is also the first collection of poems ( Frontier ). Arrived in Athens, but had to return to Italy in July 1943 and was taken prisoner by the Allies at Trapani. From there he was interned for about two years in prison camps in Algeria and Morocco. Repatriation in the summer of 1945. After resuming teaching in a secondary school in Milan, in 1952, would employ the Press Office of the Pirelli. Of those years is to work together "Milano Sera" (1950-51) and "Review of Italy." From 1958 until retirement he worked for Mondadori, which was literary editor. Along with Geno Pampaloni, Nicholas Gallo, Dante Isella was co-director of "This and other" (1962-64).
He died in Milan in 1983.

His poetic

centrally in the production of Vittorio Sereni is the experience of imprisonment in Algeria and Morocco between 1943 and 1945. From this experience comes the harvest "Diary of Algeria", composed partly in verse and partly in prose, in which the author's personal tragedy condemned to segregation becomes a symbol of the crisis of a generation. Also in the collection "The human instruments" we find the reference experience individual to the great events of history, where the sense of the world estranietà ( do not love my time, I do not love ) clearly reflects the disappointment of the defeat of the socialist and democratic ideals in Italy and worldwide.
the origin of the loss of certainties, psychological and ideological, is a radical insecurity of self and role, reaffirming the primacy of that which lives outside of man and survives.
this desperation background, however, serve as counterpoint to the constant shots of joy, a joy that has nothing to do with happiness, but manages to illuminate some ways with lightning perceptions of feelings love and friendship.



from "Frontier" (1941)


TERRACE

Imrovvisa catches us in the evening.
; More
not know where the lake ends, only a murmur


touches our lives under a roof terrace.

We are all suspended in a tacit
event tonight
within that radius torpedo
that searches us then turn leaves.




ROAD Zenna

awakens us to an infinite
navigation on the lake. But now looking forward to summer

withdraws death. And even with labile

c'incamminiamo step up ashen meadows
for roads that border on the Elise.


turns the endless rice
is a tense frown between water and the banks

lament in the wind among the tinkling mats.
This measure was amazed at the silence

a cloud of smoke left by the force of
here that recently broke the border.

View on the deserted beach
swirling sand,
overwhelms us the ashes of days. It is
around the extended torture of the sirens
salutant
ports for those who remain in the dreams of
pale faces fierce roar in
dell'acquazzone
that afflict the houses.
But we will return to each port tacit.
We will not be a sound
of fickle hour or maybe two of us
brief thumps of rowing boats
of melancholy.

you do not give us the dead never rest
and maybe your
the groan that goes between the leaves
hour which clouded the Lord.




from "Diary of Algeria" (1947)


often tortuous paths for
quelque part en Algérie

uncertain of the place that the wind bites,
your rain your sun
all at a point between
twigs of bitter bitter
iron wire, plug without pink ...
but already a year has passed,
is just a dream: we are all subdued
remember.

Ride a larva
clear where was the sentinel

and the hill of our spirits away and deserted
immemorial, sailing.


******************* In the glass

pirate
touches her bottom soon
quest'allegria
sadness that sail on the crest of the dormant embers
thrown to us from as far away fire.
And now art thou the God who becomes flesh
distance for us dark hour.




from "human instruments" (1965)


PASSING

One day, either. Few hours.
A light ever seen.
Flowers in August you will not even dreams.
Blood speckled meadows,
not yet oleanders from the sea.
Warm, but not feel like getting wet. Ventilated
Tyrrhenian Sunday.
are already dead and come back here?
O are the only still alive in vivid and
invalidity of a memory?





I VERSES

He still write. One thinks of them lying

to fearful eyes that make you the best wishes
the last night of the year.
It only write in black in a negative
years
annoying as paying a debt that was
years old.
No, not the happiest year.
some laugh: you write for the Arts.
I did not want this that I wanted something else.
You make verses for a shake
weight and go to the next. But there is always
some weight too, there is never any
that it is enough to
if tomorrow you will forget yourself.




from "Variable Star" (1981)



FEAR SECOND


Nothing to fear the voice that calls me their

me from the road below the house in an hour
at night:
is a brief revival of wind, rain
a fugitive. In
say my name does not enumerate
my wrongs, I'm not accused in the past.
Gently (Vittorio, Vittorio
) I disarms, weapon
me against myself.








Neat Ideas Cube Cages Images

Farina Vittorio Sereni, the poet insecurity


... In his continuing need for certification - as a recovery in its history and pursuit of dialogue and reflection in the 'other' - the author of human Tools typically qualifies insecurity as a poet, of the threat: first report insecurity, which causes the phenomena of redundancy and pronunciation is so insistent in part, linked to the stylistic feature of the iteration, as well as doubt about their identity and continued slumps even random declaration of identity . [...].
(PV Mengaldo, 1972)


Vittorio Sereni was born July 27, 1913 in Luino, on Lake Maggiore. From 12 years up to 1933 was at Brescia, where his father had been transferred, Customs, and where he studied. Then he lived in Milan, graduating in literature in 1936 with a thesis on Guido Gozzano. Among his classmates remember Antonia Pozzi, Luciano Ancelin, Remo Cantoni, among the literary friendships include Carlo Bo, Sergio Solmi Pratolini Vasco, Mario Luzi, Elio Vittorini. He was among the founders of Current , of \u200b\u200bwhich he was also editor with Del Bo, Lattuada, De Grada, Treccani, and collaborated on Cover , Campo di Marte, Literature. After having taught briefly at Modena and marrying Maria Luisa Bonfanti, in 1941 he was assigned as an infantry officer, department, "Pistoia", intended for the North African front, that year is also the first collection of poems ( Frontier ). Arrived in Athens, but had to return to Italy in July 1943 and was taken prisoner by the Allies at Trapani. From there he was interned for about two years in prison camps in Algeria and Morocco. Repatriation in the summer of 1945. After resuming teaching in a secondary school in Milan, in 1952, would employ the Press Office of the Pirelli. Of those years is to work together "Milano Sera" (1950-51) and "Review of Italy." From 1958 until retirement he worked for Mondadori, which was literary editor. Along with Geno Pampaloni, Nicholas Gallo, Dante Isella was co-director of "This and other" (1962-64).
He died in Milan in 1983.

His poetic

centrally in the production of Vittorio Sereni is the experience of imprisonment in Algeria and Morocco between 1943 and 1945. From this experience comes the harvest "Diary of Algeria", composed partly in verse and partly in prose, in which the author's personal tragedy condemned to segregation becomes a symbol of the crisis of a generation. Also in the collection "The human instruments" we find the reference experience individual to the great events of history, where the sense of the world estranietà ( do not love my time, I do not love ) clearly reflects the disappointment of the defeat of the socialist and democratic ideals in Italy and worldwide.
the origin of the loss of certainties, psychological and ideological, is a radical insecurity of self and role, reaffirming the primacy of that which lives outside of man and survives.
this desperation background, however, serve as counterpoint to the constant shots of joy, a joy that has nothing to do with happiness, but manages to illuminate some ways with lightning perceptions of feelings love and friendship.



from "Frontier" (1941)


TERRACE

Imrovvisa catches us in the evening.
; More
not know where the lake ends, only a murmur


touches our lives under a roof terrace.

We are all suspended in a tacit
event tonight
within that radius torpedo
that searches us then turn leaves.




ROAD Zenna

awakens us to an infinite
navigation on the lake. But now looking forward to summer

withdraws death. And even with labile

c'incamminiamo step up ashen meadows
for roads that border on the Elise.


turns the endless rice
is a tense frown between water and the banks

lament in the wind among the tinkling mats.
This measure was amazed at the silence

a cloud of smoke left by the force of
here that recently broke the border.

View on the deserted beach
swirling sand,
overwhelms us the ashes of days. It is
around the extended torture of the sirens
salutant
ports for those who remain in the dreams of
pale faces fierce roar in
dell'acquazzone
that afflict the houses.
But we will return to each port tacit.
We will not be a sound
of fickle hour or maybe two of us
brief thumps of rowing boats
of melancholy.

you do not give us the dead never rest
and maybe your
the groan that goes between the leaves
hour which clouded the Lord.




from "Diary of Algeria" (1947)


often tortuous paths for
quelque part en Algérie

uncertain of the place that the wind bites,
your rain your sun
all at a point between
twigs of bitter bitter
iron wire, plug without pink ...
but already a year has passed,
is just a dream: we are all subdued
remember.

Ride a larva
clear where was the sentinel

and the hill of our spirits away and deserted
immemorial, sailing.


******************* In the glass

pirate
touches her bottom soon
quest'allegria
sadness that sail on the crest of the dormant embers
thrown to us from as far away fire.
And now art thou the God who becomes flesh
distance for us dark hour.




from "human instruments" (1965)


PASSING

One day, either. Few hours.
A light ever seen.
Flowers in August you will not even dreams.
Blood speckled meadows,
not yet oleanders from the sea.
Warm, but not feel like getting wet. Ventilated
Tyrrhenian Sunday.
are already dead and come back here?
O are the only still alive in vivid and
invalidity of a memory?





I VERSES

He still write. One thinks of them lying

to fearful eyes that make you the best wishes
the last night of the year.
It only write in black in a negative
years
annoying as paying a debt that was
years old.
No, not the happiest year.
some laugh: you write for the Arts.
I did not want this that I wanted something else.
You make verses for a shake
weight and go to the next. But there is always
some weight too, there is never any
that it is enough to
if tomorrow you will forget yourself.




from "Variable Star" (1981)



FEAR SECOND


Nothing to fear the voice that calls me their

me from the road below the house in an hour
at night:
is a brief revival of wind, rain
a fugitive. In
say my name does not enumerate
my wrongs, I'm not accused in the past.
Gently (Vittorio, Vittorio
) I disarms, weapon
me against myself.








Monday, January 17, 2011

How To Get Rid Of Dark Ring Around Mouth

The monkey querulous

There ' destiny is that you do not win with contempt.
(Albert Camus)


The texture of the flesh
envelops me as well - man -
in essence a creature.
feel you deny the community of that seed
is a flaw.

You think you're done.
right - among the living - in the pipeline.
but the animal points to you
Cain threw the first
as a mark of species
the painful stones.

Other my customs.

I do not dress shoes
literature or science, nor know
but understand your words
very m'indigna
your shame and blame
for the journey shared
to the junction that separates us
after a thousand dreams.



© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.




How To Get Rid Of Dark Ring Around Mouth

The monkey querulous

There ' destiny is that you do not win with contempt.
(Albert Camus)


The texture of the flesh
envelops me as well - man -
in essence a creature.
feel you deny the community of that seed
is a flaw.

You think you're done.
right - among the living - in the pipeline.
but the animal points to you
Cain threw the first
as a mark of species
the painful stones.

Other my customs.

I do not dress shoes
literature or science, nor know
but understand your words
very m'indigna
your shame and blame
for the journey shared
to the junction that separates us
after a thousand dreams.



© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.




Most Common Numberspick 3

Here

No. Not now. Feel free to go.
Incominciatevi you to the railway
Before the last train goes off.

I still have to water the plants
Turn the bowl to the dog
Reinstall the pantry.

I still write love letters
- some may be enough
If only I had obeyed the words.

I receive from visitors - too. Not all
They know things that I did not
and want to meet before you leave.

It is pointless to close the door
If the blind through no distinction
My hat to the new departure.



© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.



Most Common Numberspick 3

Here

No. Not now. Feel free to go.
Incominciatevi you to the railway
Before the last train goes off.

I still have to water the plants
Turn the bowl to the dog
Reinstall the pantry.

I still write love letters
- some may be enough
If only I had obeyed the words.

I receive from visitors - too. Not all
They know things that I did not
and want to meet before you leave.

It is pointless to close the door
If the blind through no distinction
My hat to the new departure.



© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.



Mom´s Anal Adventure Boobies

love Tell me what's your name?

This heart that I too blooming
- coming back to feel the spring
It lies along the path of the mosaic
The missing piece - I do not understand.
Tell me love what's your name?

By evening dresses as a clown
enjoyed the humanity of the road
And the colors of the rainbow mingle
the weariness of every animal.
Tell me love What's your name?

Roaring chains
the years has been made capable sailor
Explaining the wind battered sails
The route I marked the firmament.
Tell me love what's your name?

- and all the names as you ask.





© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.

Mom´s Anal Adventure Boobies

love Tell me what's your name?

This heart that I too blooming
- coming back to feel the spring
It lies along the path of the mosaic
The missing piece - I do not understand.
Tell me love what's your name?

By evening dresses as a clown
enjoyed the humanity of the road
And the colors of the rainbow mingle
the weariness of every animal.
Tell me love What's your name?

Roaring chains
the years has been made capable sailor
Explaining the wind battered sails
The route I marked the firmament.
Tell me love what's your name?

- and all the names as you ask.





© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Highland Park Christmas

Beatrice Niccolai, a portrait of Ricky Farina

Highland Park Christmas

Beatrice Niccolai, a portrait of Ricky Farina

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Renting A Rolls Royce For A Wedding Calgary

Interview with Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Renting A Rolls Royce For A Wedding Calgary

Interview with Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Friday, January 7, 2011

Community Services Hours Letter Online

The trumpet of the dead



A short and interesting video shot by Maurizio Maggiani in a small rural town in Romania after Ceausescu.
Two reflections, in my view, to grasp: the changing relationship with death in our society and so-called advanced the end of time more and more rushed, which allows us to enjoy life.

Community Services Hours Letter Online

The trumpet of the dead



A short and interesting video shot by Maurizio Maggiani in a small rural town in Romania after Ceausescu.
Two reflections, in my view, to grasp: the changing relationship with death in our society and so-called advanced the end of time more and more rushed, which allows us to enjoy life.