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Another week crasj

Car accident.
Third accident in seven years. I prefer not to provide additional details for compassion towards me, so we pass directly to the death toll: I
:
old vehicle unharmed B: unhurt,
vehicle B: bruising to the left front
my poor Carolina (aka vehicle A) : completely broken right headlight area.

to laugh because I am too much money to fix the machine does not have them there, then the only choice is to have the car wrecks and reflect on the fact that I went too well, and gotten all the breaks of balls and cock of the case.
Bel on April 25. This

zingaraggio training to serve me, to instill the homeless do it here or in some other city would not be so different, except that here the moment I still have a roof.

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Until the beginning of World Music



Listening to country and fuck. I'm here to think on the bed. On my bed in the room with no door. Today there was an agent I fucking screamed "Son of a bitch, son of a bitch." With his uniform of black cock and fucking his hat a hundred years old. I approached him and I smashed her face with her fist. It is not even able to pull water out of the inhibitor. The asshole. "Who is the son of a bitch now, who is?". And his face was as red as the beginning of his stupid life. No longer has a nose. Small and upwards as his mother who gave birth to so disgustingly effeminate. I do not. Nor effeminate, nor so high. That is, I have broad shoulders and short hair. Skin a bit 'but not so dark as to seem them. I liked the sound of his teeth on the pavement. Today, Hiroshima, the capital of Sector East, pulled two more bombs here. I have not heard noises. For ten years, those fucking shit East have won. With their uniforms nude and semi long hair always combed. As their posters with drawings on it. With big eyes that seem to either. I do not even seem miserable they are. Only deserve to wallow in their misery rich and colorful. I took two of those blue pills to forget. Perhaps they were green. I am the kind of person who can not distinguish blue from green. So be it. I look out and see the rubble and some bitch to walk under. Servizietti to make a few liters of fuel. Old mostly. One of the old ones every now and then I do on the hood of any car that does not produce more and I always leave dusty. I am of those who always smile no teeth. Every time I take a few punches to see how it goes. Maybe they like. Sure I do. I like to follow the girls with pink hair natural. Take them by the hair and beat against the wall in one of the many dark and deserted streets. The rape is a bit 'and then I get tired. I love when I spit on their saliva strange color indefinitely. From what I remember is always dark. Not really dark like night, but like no sun. The sky is covered by a thick layer of dust. Since I broke all the bombs together and have done half dry Sector West, there is a cloud of dust that obscures everything. When I was little they said would happen, this Before you jump all communications. That is saying a lot of crap about a man who told the future of something like a war. Well he did not understand a shit. It was about half that with the screens and the wires which name escapes me now. But it was so long ago. And he did not exist as no one knows I exist. What is certain is that they are a moving target. No one cares who the fuck are just that strike me with the cold sensors. Well I'm a target, one among many. Exterminate many counts at the end and then one by one. With those white balls and a little 'black roll and then explode. And if you're lucky you run out of legs to bleed a little 'there. When I see someone I approach and see if you have something that interests me in the pockets of dirty pants. Mica such as those in the western sector, the part that I have not seen, those with a lot of money. Those who were part of what was once called Ameriq or something. Just broke out the mess the rich and the whores blondes with big tits have gone on an 'island. Years ago, anyway. It is said to spend their time counting money, which by the way you do not use more than one piece, dress well and kill each other every now and then. With those rudimentary weapons of the last century where a lever press and part of a small bomb that explodes into round. There are even different types. Some others are not long. However, I spend my time going around here and there, and I always dirty boots blacks with dust. I never clean but get dirty forever. With all this dust that gets into your brain and ears and every corner I nearly get sick. I almost took the ADDS once. The acquired deficiency syndrome, from the dust then. Even if eventually found another of the eastern sector to exterminate us all. That is, one by one. They are white spots on him. Then perhaps vomiting and coughing a bit '. There are many. Even the street that gasp. Ask for the grace to something they have done and for someone who did not deserve. Poor bastards. Yes, yes, because the important thing is not to be soft cakes. That is, they believe this and there's a lot of problems. Perhaps lie. So it takes so little. To me it is only interested in the pills are blue or green or otherwise. I am one of those who can not distinguish from orange to pink. These pills are great because you only remember what you want. The rest forget it all. I mean I remember a little 'things about how it started tuto why do I need to survive. At the end if there's a rubble I know, because if I stumble then maybe hit me too. Then I can not take pills. If I do not pick any agent feeds me with a dog. Those with four legs, those with three are too thin and they always go out of the darkness like a blind man. And I do not like. If that happens then I'm lucky I even set it a fire and I can eat something that becomes a bit 'black and bubbling on the surface. Otherwise does the same raw, do not worry.
It 's a bit I look at an old house on a deserted road. Some time ago there was someone who went there. The house is part of the facade collapsed and I can see inside. There's someone I'm interested. Maybe has something for me, pills or whatever. Maybe something that glitters. The house is still a bit 'yellow, but soon. I watch him for days. It 's a young guy, skinny, too skinny. Her hair is a bit 'long with a fringe that covers a bit'. Blacks. And 'one of those fags. I'm sure. One of those is someone and not others. She cries for about two days for a sanguemisto that he has not seen any more. It 'a dickhead and a fag shit. Cries cries until it can. Sometimes it takes a belly like if it were to give birth. Giving birth is the fennel. I hate those regular features. And 'there that is desperate for someone who never cared a fuck about him. So I see it. I care about him, should not despair.
I climb the stairs. I find him sitting there, in the usual chair, his back. Can you hear me, says, "Who are you?". "But I am," I say "I am." "You're back?" does not turn, do you think someone inappropriate. "Do not bring myself to start all over again." And that's where I grab him by the throat, and there is nothing in the house. So I can also distract a bit '. Then, he bound tightly to the chair. I put a nice piece of my shirt that I ripped into his mouth. I ask him "Are you a fag?". He says something but I do not know. "You're a fag?". It 's always there with that nagging thing in your mouth and do not understand. "Answer, you're a fag?". Well if you do not want to answer his own business. At this point I give him a punch in the face and he fell to the ground with all the chair. I rise and give him a kiss on the forehead. Now I give him another blow, slower because I do not want to drop it again. I think I could untie. But before I take a large piece of wood and hit it a bit 'on the arms and legs, he cries a bit' but I do not feel so good. When I finished he untied him and lie down on the ground. "So fuck you fag?" I ask him kindly. Does not respond, not responding and has the look a bit 'so. Well I think that should and decide for him. Pull out the long, pointed piece of glass I have in my pocket. I lift the shirt from the floor just above the navel. He cries and cries and I bear it less and less. At this point I put the piece of glass just below the navel where it is soft. There's a little 'blood here and there but it does the same. I careful to make a precise hole. He passes out a little 'and some' no. Now he fainted. I drop his pants and are just above. I feel the smell of her sadness, and this excites me more. Guess I'll take one of those things small and red. No, now it is better not to. The are over and I put all my shit, which is not very big, the hole that I practiced before generously. And with so much care. Now, the purpose and distinctly feel the sensation of hot and wet that the blood gives me. And I wet my pants. And I feel rub, rub the edges of torn flesh against me. It 's the best feeling in the world, I mean really. When I finished I rearrange them and look down from the collapsed building. Nothing. I do not know how, but the boy recovers and bounces back, while still lying on the floor because he can not move. Who knows why. So, before bleeding as I would like him back over. "Did you like fennel?". It does not say no, say yes. "... Like fennel?". Well I put three fingers in the hole first, that usually, oe shot up as if I had to rip something. Shooting shooting but I do not enjoy much. That is, I tired quickly. Then bothers me the blood on your hands. Take the piece of glass that I had before in his pocket and which is now on the ground. That is, I must have fallen in the heat before. At this point I start to cut from the right shoulder. I want to see if he's cute without an arm. At the first thrust vigorously squirts a jet of blood on me and a little 'there. Wow the pain so well. Then I keep going back and forth with the piece of glass up and down a bit 'here and a bit' over there. And now the piece of glass is a piece of red glass. He cries and cries I finally feel the flesh torn and I feel more and more scraping against the bone and

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None.

I'm in my bed. I wake up numb and heavy. I can not move. I move my mouth, I grimaced. I do not understand why. I can not move. In the dark look that my eyes become accustomed. I peppered her face wrinkled, marked by age. Those around the mouth are the most profound. They say I benevolent expression. I look at my hands. They are firm but calm. They are grayish. My skin is raised, as if it were empty. The one hand, then it is a lot. I have long fingernails, cured, without polish. I have some darker spots, which does not bother me much. I wear glasses but now I wear them because they are in bed. They are on the table, I think. If only I could turn head. I hear the sound of my heart into the mattress. Beats fast, but with less frequency. Now I understand. Feel my head sinking ever deeper into the pillow, against my will. But now counts for little. I feel my face heat up, as if to implode. My eyes are veiled. I feel eyes veiling. The eyelids are closed against my will. Close.

I got up. I looked in the mirror and I washed. I combed his hair with a brush and hair dryer. They are easy to comb because they are white and short. Not too short. I am a bit 'overweight and maybe I should lose weight. I slipped the cream-colored suit that I really like. I got out. "Grandma, when you were young you all rigged so little?" and walking why do I need to walk. "No, quite the contrary. Most of the girls make-up so much, seemed to many masks." I say they are elegant. Today I put the pin in the shape of a vase full of flowers made of precious stones on it. Today is my birthday. Give me a strange feeling these modern cars. So fast. I am sitting in front. "Congratulations Mom!" exclaim in a group. I am a bit 'of people, my three daughters, husbands and others. Several grandchildren. My favorite nephew is not there, could not come, it's on. E 'dark, curly hair is no longer as a child. Not so now and have never liked them straight. E 'slim, not too high. And 'nice but he does not know. In the photos that I have I did the happy expression of those who lack something.

Bado always to my nephew. It 's small. Much smaller than her age. Minute, I mean. He has the face of the person, who suffers. I'm not sure why. It 'hard being the youngest. I often sit down with him to read books. He likes to hear. It 's very small, has enormous eyes and dark. Sometimes I lose myself. Did not the very masculine features. It does not matter. It has lots of curly hair and blacks. I like to hear when shaking my hand. E 'trivial, but I feel it. I feel he and his adoration. When he was even smaller, long ago, we went to our house in the mountains, like all summers. When we were sitting on the red couch watching the television broke into tears. "I do not want you to die, Grandma." I had a chill, maybe it was ecstasy, maybe not. I do not know whether to be happy. I fear that will grow with the fear of my death. Maybe not. I think so.

My youngest daughter was taken to hospital. It is not very tall, has dark hair and a pretty face. He became a permanent exaggerated than those that are so fashionable now. You know that I do not like her hairstyle. I am sitting in the white room and wait to tell me if the baby is born. There's other people nervous that revolves around me. I am told that it was born. In just over eight months. Who knows, maybe will be smaller. I doubt that this is a scientific thing. The they cut the umbilical cord had twisted her neck. He struggled desperately and struggling. They cut my daughter to get through. Right up to the navel. I dare not imagine my daughter cut in half. But it goes well. Though you might feel good.

My husband did not feel well. We are in the hospital. I'm in the room with him and read it as my usual. Every time I go out on the terrace fumarmi a cigarette. Those long white that the girls are inferior but that's about me are elegant. As if it were a fashion accessory. My husband is in full middle age. Just as I am. He has a few years older than me but does not show. It has lots of hair and blacks is a smart man, but it's in the blood. The My daughters are worried. My youngest daughter, then is little more than a teenager and has inherited all my anxiety. One of the twins is coming from another city. She 's married with a thin man with a beard. They say he is gay. I do not care, I have never been racist. But I care for his happiness. My daughter got married just to get married. Because he believed it to be happy. Many do. Then he saw his sister married for quite some time. Envy wanted to marry her. My husband is tired of being in hospital. They still have not brought the results of tests and sits on the bed. He gets up and comes towards me. He starts to hug me. But it falls. Fall hard on the floor. And I have the view fall violently on the floor. I heard the thud dela his head against the gray tile. Does not move. I call it shakes but does not move. Now I'm crying.

I heard my third daughter violently push inside me. With a force unknown to me. But an ancient pain. E 'out small and fragile and all covered with blood. She did not cry. E 'silent as a woman of another era. And the big eyes and that blacks would fall in love with any man. The twins are not so great but are already going to school. I do not know if they want another sister. One of them is beautiful, has blonde hair and blue eyes. Beautiful with its delicate features. The other is a bit shapeless and 'plump. Her hair is a bit of a blonde ' dirty. Green eyes, but dark. It 's always by herself and her sister look like an idol to emulate and destroy. She likes dolls so much. She did not seem so. The sister did.

The church is crowded with people. I have a white veil on her head and transparent. He is beside me and soon we will be married. I do not like his mother. It 'very severe, very old. They say I'm born to drown the cats do not keep them. I do not like cats but do not drown them ever. Feeling that little body writhing under my heavy hand stuck in a tub full of water. And then turn around and look at others waiting their turn. I do not have it this cold. My mother is austere. But like a queen. He has a great sense of humor and is a tall woman and always elegant. I love my mother. My father has ideas that do not share. But good is the best person I know. Good to idiocy. It has no character, as on the other hand did not have my almost-husband. But I feel as if it were mine. It 's a thing to do.

I'm running furiously to this dirt road hill. I hear the sound of footsteps of so many people like me running and ominous rumbles. I have my usual gray suit. The shoulder-length hair, carefully combed and in turn how he wants the fashion of today. They tell me I look like an actress in the film. In that picture I took a few days ago it looks really. I like going to the movies. I went into a cave. From cave you can see the city in the distance. E 'illuminated by the flames that devour. There are planes flying high in the sky and throw things to illuminate the streets. Shortly after launch and there were more bombs. Fall, scare and destroy. This is why I ran away. I hear the roar coming from the city not far away. It 's night and there are many people with me. Many of the blankets. My mother is talking to someone, who knows where my sister and my brothers are at the front. I do not know where. Perhaps the letters do not get it. Maybe not write. There's a guy who looks at me. He is my age or so. I think I like it. I find it elegant. Of blacks has thick hair, short, swept back with the line on one side. Like all the other boys. He speaks to me. It 's strange to feel that feeling of warmth coming from the bottom. Feel for someone. They say it is wrong. I can not find it wrong. Like, even if it is like to be hungry. I like him.

My mother is saying something to the waiter. My house in the mountains very much. I'm picking the daisies to make a wreath. My little sister do not really like. But it is small. Less than me. I do not know. E 'dark, not even look like my sister. There are people in uniform who joked with my mom about this. I do not understand. My two brothers are a bit 'bigger instead. They are fun. They are always a lot of tricks on people. Type make balls of mud and pull them into the windows. People are always very angry. I have a blue dress and a ribbon of the same color on the head. I look like that girl in the story that follows the rabbit. My mother is running behind my brother with a carpet beater. Who knows what will be done this time. They are fast but she was not joking. She has long legs. I laugh.

Bagnato. I feel there is no water and light. I have a long thing that binds me that I start from there. Float. They are comfortable but maybe I want out. Then press hear from so many points and I move. I make off with four things that I use to float in the dark here. And I try to get me out, because maybe there is something there. There is a beyond. I hear the noise. Intermittence di suoni che non so riconoscere. Continuo a provare a farmi strada. Sono spostata con violenza. Qualcosa che mi stringe e una luce accecante mi colpisce e sento caldo e freddo e vedo luci e cose gigantesche che si muovono. Tutte come le vedrei dove fluttuavo. Attraverso l'acqua. Apro quella cosa che uso per succhiare a turno le mie quattro cose che mi servivano per muovermi nell'acqua. E per premere contro quella cosa molle. Muovo il viso e sento che posso tirare dentro e buttare fuori. Ed emetto un suono terribile che mi spaventa e quindi piango. E' un suono assordante. E' il mio.

E poi. Poi niente.

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Wow, how long is that I do not update the blog? The most 'important is that work .. almost .. in the sense that I'm in a post 9 hours a day, but it really is not that they pay me enough to survive. Joys of the stage!
But why I occasionally write if nobody reads?
Yay, a new Monday on doors, meeting new exciting .. maybe.
Bau bau (do not know what to do to a hamster squeaked squeaked ..?)