Spin Bike Crank Removal Tool

Evolution

Let me make a small parenthesis nerd.

Oh I know, sorry but this too is part of me and today I want to talk about video games, and indeed a video game in particular.

No, not a review, not a comment or even a walk-throughs, is the analysis of a concept, demonstration and in the field of video play, the evolution of technology, the concept of entertainment, the transformation of a media.

the threshold output on the market of its second chapter, I speak today of the original Little Big Planet.

Released in October 27, 2008, developed from the house MediaMolecule for Sony Playstation 3, LBP marks a new era of video games.

Apparently a standard in next-gen revival of the old side-scrolling platformer (Super Mario), this game finds its innovation on two key issues.

The setting; The customizable "sackboys" (kids bag) stuffed dolls are facing countless adventures in a series of spaces that recall the points of the game of our childhood, or childhood best programmers, mostly made in 60's or 70's, but also very reminiscent of the tales of our parents, when "we had fun playing with pegs."

It is played with pegs, cardboard boxes, foam shapes, fabric cushions, pieces of wood, each mounted mo 'medieval castle, spaceship, the African jungle, in the background stands the blurred landscape of a playground , garden, home, places where he grew up a bit 'all, including adventures of exploration and battles of all time.

The second and more important innovation is the editor mode: From

imaginative menu selection of modes and levels, which is set in a small cardboard spaceship with three planets hanging from wires in a room covered wallpaper blue stars, you can choose, by going "on the moon" mode editor.

pre-selecting the setting, you enter a blank layer will have access to hundreds of materials, colors, sounds and arrangements, to create new and highly personal levels to publish and share in the flourishing online community. A real

infinite game.

Why write an article on it? Why call this game innovative, fun new stage in the world video?

Since the PS3 console online, allows a contact, not only among members but also between users and production company. The

mediamolecule, you might think, after we sold the game from his obligations, has made his "professional duty" to the customer and the company.

But the client is no longer just customers, I first used the term "user" because that is what we are, and tirelessly MM has provided updates, changes, "links" implementing the communication with users and what happened was not expecting anyone, not even the programmers, not even the distributors, not users.

Top5 the changeovers.

5) Music:

editor there are a limited number of background music, but at the same time the sounds are activated by "near the character."

do not know who was the genius who first used this application to create a real music box, able to play polyphonic melodies and incredible, famous, unknown or completely invented.

4) The Japanese

For some reason, maybe for their innate methodical, Japanese users have always been made to recognize the perfection, style, the genius of their business video games.

LBP is no exception and the same MM has admitted several times that many levels are far more beautiful and brilliant than those proposed in the main story of the game, also noting the limitations of the editor than the freedom of programmers.

3) Category:

LBP was designed to create pure and simple platforms, but users have said no.

And now the years have developed into a fully autonomous manner, different categories of levels, including these, the "concepts" simple "sculptures" realistic places, objects, vehicles, any actual or invented, without the character of the videogame "test to pass" or "enemy to beat."

"Gare" made by bizarre means of transportation, real "free roaming" sliding, "copies" of other games that really exist, "shooter", adventure games with lots of prologues "cutsene" and so on.

2) Passion incredulous

Far be it from me to doubt the purely economic motives of the producers of LBP, but the program to all effects of an artist who lives with creativity, we sent all users a great contribution to the evolution of the game.

periodically came out of new mechanisms and technologies to make easier the tribulations of us "new programmers" to create the categories described above.

So over the years we have "won" guns, new decorations, Jetpac, water etc..

1) Bugs

Other concrete form of spontaneous evolution, were the dozens of programming errors, discovered by users and used to create new and dramatic effects on their levels, not to mention the creation of "levels tutorial "to explain to others how to exploit the bug discovery.

part of MM very surprised, in some cases the bugs have been taken and "legalized" becoming real stake in the programming level.

conclude

use my knowledge as a student of DAMS; it comes to mass media, dividing them into different forms of communication.

In particular we can distinguish them in "ratio input / reply" or because users have to express themselves, to "participate", to respond to input provided by the media in question.

We can start on radio and television from the early days, where the only answer to the accused was a more or less slow literacy, and then a gradual but radical change in society, in response to new technology.

In this case the answer is far from immediate, though deep and meaningful.

We can then get the other extreme of the Internet, where forums, blogs, social networks, enabling the creation of a message that is made of responses, then where the source ceases to exist as a great mother, breast-feeding their babies at a one, growing a company, dense and complex, made up of inputs and outputs that intertwine, meet and agglomerate.

The great economic society now offers a half, leaving the burden to users of the message.

Similarly in recent years, is having a strong evolution in video play, the customer response is not only the purchase, and evidence of a good advertising campaign, and only sometimes a good quality in production.

The customer becomes aware of himself, of his creative verve of its economic importance as a link in the chain, becoming (as already explained) "user" and imposing, as in the case of LBP, an unexpected development of a product (the result of a thought), now the result of the collective consciousness.

Little Big Evolution by Julian Bartoletti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License .

Waxing Place In Jacksonville

lights Me

short story by Julie Bartoletti (Matches)

Commissioner Baiser hastily entered the large housing complex of gray. The

like a dog chasing his aide hysterical Le Cul, busy scribbling away like a schoolboy on the first day of school.

This is the story of Blague, a good man who came to town from far away.

He left a life the close and was traveling in search of a place in the world.

When he arrived in the village, the sun lit up the valleys dressed in wheat, the green mountains in the distance echoed down the valley through the forest green as leaves and the smell of musk, is refreshed in the white river and glided down between the houses of straw and dirt roads.

noise of wagons, fruit that is sold and mixed hay for livestock, earthy smell.

was clear that no place would have been more appropriate for Blague.

arrived to the village he met people, he was greeted with cheerful indifference, and that was another reason to stay.

passed months and there was the fishing season.

All the men left the village early one morning, kissed their wives, children warned, they loaded the bags in a caravan and took the path that leads to the next village, the port would seek work on the first vessel, were taken to the sea, for two months and did not return.

The women spent their time in the fields or grazing, returning home at night to retrieve their children, feed them and rocking.

Every morning life began again and the children running around the village.

Blague, who was fishing and did not own land around the village doing small errands in exchange for food. It was not

long before the children screaming, bold and lead, tackling shyness and decided to make his acquaintance. Since

Blague was a good man, very mild but in a good mood, confidence took a turn against his becoming the new pastime of the rabble infant.

like a duck and it led to screaming at a constellation of satellites, which revolved around disoriented, making him stumble and dazed face of pressing demands: it was always the right time to become a swing man, an evil ogre, a comedian acclaimed.

Blague, who was a shy, reserved, tasteful took this to be the center of attention and soon his mind was far more eager to play with his little friends, who face the usual concerns of adult men.

-Commissioner, the plan is the tenth, "said Le Cul promptly, and no one had asked the question.

Commissioner did not reply, it was very difficult to understand if it were annoyed by his aide, as his expression rarely varied, but if I were to bet, I'm almost sure she was annoyed.

He stopped in the hall looking around, but trying to move as little as possible, until it turned very sharply to the Cul.

-eh ... there is no elevator. If the face of

Baisier he moved, he would certainly assumed an expression of deep hatred against the Cul, but felt instinctively the message.

One day the sun was covered, across the valley there was an atmosphere ferrous and unpleasant, the forest was now frighteningly dark, the mountains seemed to be more rocky and inhospitable, the music of the village was now a jagged tangle anxieties and fears.

Da Blague all day had a bad feeling, went to the village to play around 'with the children but the mothers were concerned about the first rounds of the camps and their offspring were called to order.

When the village was stormy, we had to prepare adequately, so the streets are empty, everyone was in their homes, some to gather the cattle, some to strengthen the roofs, and Blague was alone in the village square, in a gray windy spring fall madly.

He sat down a bit 'disconsolate on the edge of the well to brood in solitude.

The feeling you get when you see someone injured by a piece of glass under the nail, startled Blague.

A little 'scared, with a sudden breath, surveyed the landscape: the houses were in front of him, the market closed, the empty pews, the church. How

struck by a suspect turned behind chilling, reminding himself that there all the other half of the landscape.

He saw the valley and mountains in the distance, but his eyes were still putting on fire when, at the trail, saw a dark figure and hump, lanky and callous, to step forward sobbed and irresistible to the village.

Blague failed to deepen the analysis, because the blurred vision was enough to slide his butt from the edge of the well.

With a thud and a scream he fell down a couple of meters, reaching in the bucket and rope, wet and dirty, continued for a few seconds to spiaccicarglisi on the face, falling down its entire length.

Shortly after two children peered screaming and laughing from above called the mothers.

It took three people to pull it off, luckily no one was hurt but seemed concerned about an imminent arrival. Women

introduce them calmed him by telling him that was not there anyone in the village and that the path was clear of "shady characters".

Blague returned home, humiliated and wet, among the laughter of children.

That night he had many strange dreams, he found himself imprisoned in a dark cell, he saw people insulting him and drive him away, he saw again the horrible figure, fix it, laughing, changing shape with each breath, becoming more and more monstrous, it looks like any fear that a man can try.

screams of children Commissioner-The Cul-stepped, non-response to a question implied in a non-expression of Baisier. The Cul

thought that if nothing else, it was becoming a good translator "Basier fracese-, French-Basier.

-All building is inhabited by the children of miners who work at the quarry outside the city-went out of breath (had just arrived on the fifth floor).

Baisier imposed a moment of rest and lit a cigarette.

-they are well-

Commissioner

Only now, in retrospect, would have recognized a subtle issue of relief on the marble face Baiser.

Blague

When he returned to the village, was attacked almost extreme euphoria of children, who had been baptized the legend of the monster of the valley as established fact, too cool to be fake.

Blague With great effort he showed no fear that in fact she felt, to hear so lightly of that horrible vision. He showed instead

sorry to have brought so much turmoil, the eyes of the poor mothers, forced to calm everyone down every night to be able to entrust the children to sleep, and rest themselves.

He tried to behave normally do not throw meat to the fire, but he felt within himself, the great anxiety of an impending tragedy.

That same evening, the village inn, with a worried mother told you have trouble getting the door open the night before, which was sure to have closed, because of the impending storm.

The woman was surrounded by people intrigued and frightened when he entered the local Blague. All

case, however, made his entrance and called in the group as a key witness in the ongoing process.

Blague-then, it is true that a monster pushed you into the pit yesterday? - Said a voice fond of mystery.

-I knew it, is doom! - Another gray husky voice.

After a dozen questions like, exploded in bursts without care to hear a response, backed away scared Blague, stammered that he knows nothing, he apologized unnecessarily shocked and ran away.

The next day began in fear.

Blague awoke in the grip of pain after another night of violent nightmares, he wanted to stay home that day but she needed to eat, so he left the house.

He found a small crowd of people surrounded the parish, just outside the garden of the church, the pastor tried to calm everyone down with his face contorted and a bible in hand (view anything but reassuring), the weeping of the women filled the square .

Blague came up with the expression of a child who raises his shoe Having stepped on a cockroach and heard the fateful * splat.

-Blague, thank God, you help us, "said a whimper.

Blague said eyes wide.

-you are the only man in the village, besides the pastor.

It was curious that until then had been treated Blague by women of the village, more like an overgrown child and as a man, but as they say in times of storm, "every rock and carry".

Blague When he learned that another house had been opened during the night, that the furniture and objects had been found upside down, went into a state of constant anxiety and quiet.

At that moment the storm broke threatened by two days brutalizing the landscape.

It was decided to hole up in the church as usual in all such cases.

Children, as usual the free game, went a bit 'in the church at a time, returning from fields, streets and squares, over a few tens of minutes.

After half an hour from the beginning of the storm, a heart-rending cry broke the quiet hum which until then had acted as a background to the scene.

The woman whose house had been violated had seen the most tragic fulfillment of the suspects, his daughter, her daughter was not returned and none of the other children seemed to have seen her the day before.

Creature from the valley had not only put Scouring the house, had committed a crime far worse.

It is not possible to hear a feeling, but I could swear that you somehow felt the sound of the heart of Blague explode, your liver is churning, his eyes accessed anger.

Something broke in him.

He rose without speaking, but certainly not quietly, because everyone turned around to observe it.

His expression was that which most closely to the concept of fearless, resolute.

He started to leave the church and no one tried to stop him.

Two hours passed and the storm grew more violent.

The partitions in the wood of the church creaked under the wind pressure and the glass cracked.

Suddenly, in alignment with a deafening thunder, the great church door shuddered to a violent shock.

The pastor came over and lifted the latch, the door opened and a wet and frightened creature peeped out of the darkness of the storm.

The woman threw herself on her daughter with the vehemence of a wild boar on the food, the dried, pressed her to him and make sure he was comfortable. So it was.

The sweet epilogue was interrupted by the noise coming from the square and the subsequent gathering of spectators, from the windows of the church, attended a show scary.

A little body lean and exhausted, that could only belong to Blague, hung with incredible tenacity to the neck of a shapeless monster.

The beast was moving with a violence worthy of a bull and the mangled body of Blague was waving like a piece of damp sponge.

This vision was available to the public disbelief and scared for a little over two seconds, shortly after a lightning blinded in fact all those eyes and the storm dumped in all its violence, creating an impenetrable curtain.

The next morning the storm was over.

The sky cleared and the valley came the usual gloss: the villagers left the church do with cautious confidence, but having acquired soon that there was no trace of the monster.

-here's commissioner, how do you shoot in your mouth, "said Le Cul while paramedics loaded on the stretcher a body animated by occasional spasms, reduced to a thread of life with a serene, like that monaco a Tibetan ... well, a Tibetan Monaco with a huge hole behind the left ear and blood flowing from all sides.

-probably will not survive, the limit will remain in a coma, has taken away a chunk of brain. It's a miracle one left alive all this time, said one of the paramedics. The Cul

thanked him with a nod and he hastened to add, fill in the Blague usually form-Charles, was released from prison six months ago after serving a sentence of Grasse's ...- set fire to twelve years-he said with emphasis, the charge-fixed-Baisier - of child abuse . A cursed monster, eh sir?

Baisier looked around, looked at the blood on the floor, the gun, went to the window-lived here for six months, "said looking at the bleak horizon in the suburbs-in a building full of children and parents with many of the mines - sighed, and no child has been touched. Cul

The Commissioner looked at the way in questioning, for the first time that day had a thought expressed in words, but he could not understand.

Baisier lit another cigarette, there's plenty to do here, occupatene you, I'm going home, blowing away the smoke.

A child peeped out from the well, the sun shone above his head like a halo.

He shouted to call the other-is the well-cried,-c 'fell still-giggling.

Soon after, some mothers appeared from the edges of the well, He had a benevolent, fair, the expression of a mother watching her son sleep.

Blague looked stunned, from the bottom of the well, for the first time in his life were free of discomfort that he had pursued for years, wherever he went, was clear at last.

This time, the mothers will nor the children seemed to bother to pull out of there Blague, ansi properties remained to observe, as you watch a relative of the station, that goes away by train.

Blague also had this feeling and now seems to stretch the walls of the well, he felt himself sinking, open pit and the faces of his friends became more and more away, indistinguishable, a point of light in the darkness.

lights Me by Julian Bartoletti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License .

Countertops In Menards

The last note of the song [25/01/2010 facebook]

The last note of the song

published by LivingDead gozaimasu Sydney on Tuesday, January 25, 2011 at 22:55

At this point it seems to me to write a note, the My last note on Facebook, to clarify the situation.
I did not expect a "slave revolt" as a result of my announcement of wanting to leave the disastrous social network.
Reasons:
guess having to rely at least two or three, although to be honest I have not even one, is because it is an instinct, a need, and if I try to dig deep to find a rational idea behind this choice, I find a lot of small signs, habits, annoying occurrences that this site has brought into my life.

Justification 1: The time

AND 'motivation more material, the more foolish, the more questionable, but also the first that comes to mind.
I am well aware, I would say that they are the living example of the fact that there is no need to waste time on facebook and if you do not have the concentration, the will and strength to meet its obligations, just anything to make us lose time. Once
, preparing a graduation examination, I was forced to study with such force that all entertainment eliminai possible.
dismounted my computer, tore the antenna of the TV, I began to study levandomi back from all the pencils and blank paper for not drawing.
hour passed when I realized that I had spent the previous 55 minutes to travel with the mind, as I read ! mean, I read the book but I did not understand anything because in the meantime, my mind traveled to the world of fantasy!

But I also know that about 3 years ago eliminai television from my life and since then guadagnai a lot of time that could be used (and it took me) to pursue my interests in a constructive manner.
Facebook, for me, is like television.
I do not consider myself superior, I'm not snubbing facebook because it has become a mass medium or anything like that, I'm admitting my inadequacies, my inability and my lack of self-control.

Justification 2: Friends

It 's hard for me to explain, but the type of communication that allows facebook is a bit' as fast food is fast, powerful, flashy, cheap, but it feeds a little plastic.
I know that the quality of what you write depends on the writer and not the means, I have written and received messages from very deep and beautiful people I've come to love.
I joined Facebook and consolidated many of you and I will always be grateful for this, but as they say "the medium is the message "and this means no more for me.
I wanted to write, I want to communicate with you, if I have something to say.
forcibly having at hand, everyone, at all times, is how to remain locked in a pastry, the top is beautiful and strafoghi but then you start to lose taste and want more, and I do not want to be desired, I just need you and I continue to feel the taste of your presence.

Justification 3: The excitement of change

There is little to say when you go in the mountains, on a farm, they discover the rural life and the beauty of simple life, I think, I tend to piss me off without technology. But
concept, is that I want to go back to "life before Facebook," I want to see how it feels, go back to old habits: "forum, e-mail, blogs."

Justification 4: Simone Carubelli

More than a statement of reasons is a "sign" that life has sent me.
Those of you who do not know, I'll explain in two words:
was a dear friend of mine in elementary and junior high, then we lost touch.
Years ago I added him on facebook but never exchanged a word.
has recently happened to one of those things that tell you do not believe those things to film.
The cinema has indeed united us, like so many other things over the years, even living apart, no contact.
Then one day, thanks to his passion for film, he met my best friend Petra, fell in love and I found one of the greatest friendships of my life.
All this happened without the help of social networks, without Addar, messages, spamming or log; pure life lived.

Justification 5: Paul Mazzullo

This is also a sign rather than a motivation. Mazzullo
Paul was the founder of Radio Rock, who died a little 'time ago of a heart attack.
A couple of weeks ago I happened by chance to discover that your account is still active on facebook.
I know, is not a very sensible are also blogs, are the e-mails, are videos on youtube, but somehow it struck me to think that one could go there and dig in your history, read all the comments, thoughts, arguments, jokes, the digs forever immortalized on the web, forever.
Panta Rei os potamos: everything flows and everything must flow.
behind me moralize, to comment on how things are or should be, as I said this is why I leave facebook, but one of the thoughts that arise when I wonder why this is.

I seem to have expressed its full and complete my motives, I hope no one takes the bad because my intentions are good.
I will not isolate or deprived of human contact, but upgrade what we already have, you are giving me all the time.
I am serene and me is not a difficult choice, a forced or deprivation, with only a course correction.

If I have omitted anyone in the e-mail, write here some of my contacts.

E-Mail: Giulban@alice.it
Blog: www.quelligiovani.blogspot.com
Skype: people-young

send me an e-mail your address so I sign and keep in touch.

PS
on Facebook will stay until Tuesday, February 2, 2011, hurry to contact me!


For maiora!

remember him so

This is the last written note on facebook before my retirement, a simple analysis of the reasons in response to dissatisfaction expressed by some relatives and friends.

dramatized a bit 'on the cancellation of my account, like a sort of imminent departure, for the harshness with which hundreds of posts, miles of history, dozens of photos, will be simply deleted, without leaving a trace.

Let then play some more 'up to 5 days after the end of my "I telematics, recite the epitaph that resonate in the empty spaces, once occupied by my account.

"Life is a fairy tale,

told only what is born, only what he wrote there.

only perpetuate myself in you,

behind the screen, nothing. "

Making Ballet Slippers From Fondant Tutorial

blood. [18/01/2011 facebook]

blood.

published by LivingDead gozaimasu Sydney on Tuesday, January 18, 2011 at 1:44

blood is a connective tissue fluid in blood vessels of animals, the complex composition, which is part of the broader category of connective tissues. The adjective that refers to the blood, "blood" comes from the greek αἶμα, αἴματος (AIMA aimatos), which literally means "blood", while the Italian name derived from the Latin sanguis, sanguinis, the same meaning. Constitutes about 7% of body weight, has a specific gravity of 1041-1062 kg \\ m3, a temperature of 37-38 ° C and a pH of 7:38 to 7:42. It consists of 55% of a liquid part called plasma, and 45% from a corpuscular part, consisting of cells or fragments cells. \u0026lt;/ span>

L ' epistaxis (or rinorragia ) is externalized internal bleeding, or bleeding from an opening in the body's natural, namely by one or both nostrils, from the front or back of the nasal septum.

As you may have guessed by now, I happen to have frequent nosebleeds rather abundant and long lasting.
Tonight I had another one, and for the second time I decided to play a bit 'above, with photos and comments for you facebook users.
For me there is something immediate, as it might be for someone in the nosebleed was a practice more occasional, think of using my appointment with the dripping blood as a starting point of conversation here on facebook, dell'appariscenza the world, where everything is stain to, just to have food for conversation in a perpetual race lift, where the embarrassment of silence makes you talk about anything, everything and nothing.
So for me the cranberry juice is a friend of long standing, was the only chance for the child most unlucky of 3 ° C Sogliani elementary school, to have some 'of attention from teachers, school caretakers and companions, all accompanied me to the bathroom as a caravan, list all possible remedies, and although my nosebleeds were presented approximately once a week, no one seemed to get bored playing doctor.

But things have changed and the child most unlucky Seprio Castle Middle School, was no longer very attractive from that point of view and it was ansi, one more reason to horrify the virginal eyes of girls, which a little later I would be ousted trivializing the bleeding, you understand what I'm talking, bleeding from the more interesting parts of my nose. So for me

epistaxis was now a thing so natural that it has become almost instinctive.
I realized he arrived early enough that I can calmly get up, go to the bathroom and dab, compress, clean, inspect and return to class or in bed, or wherever I was at that moment, in less than five minutes.

[Note: I wrote while up to that point, he started to nose bleed]

was then in high school, my period of counterculture, where I began to love the film and the pearls of pulp , I discovered the artistic potential of blood.
began to look at blood flow to the face in front of the mirror in the bathroom.
As the blood coming down my brain processes the stories, plots and twists, fights, incurable diseases, paranormal, psychic abilities, and so on.
The blood dripped into the sink and then, without losing its charm, fell slowly in the waste by creating a set of ruby \u200b\u200bstripes convergent then were yellow, thriller, murder, torture terrible stories of atrocities committed by insane murderers, against the poor and young women.

Even without the blood stains and leaves a trail everywhere (feature less loved by those who have the misfortune of having to clean a certain amount before the police arrived) and hands on the floor, everything you touch any form of spots remain.
In particular, I believe that the forms that the blood may, reside in our brain as atavistic memory, evergreen, of how little is being recommended to close the above, because blood calls for blood and you know, such as cherries, a murder leads to another.
This atavistic memory perhaps, makes the blood take any form, is always fascinating inspiration for us travelers substrate Mental fragmented drops on a white surface, fingerprints left by a careless hand, big slick enigmatic center of the room.

Sometimes though, my personal facial cycle, is at inopportune moments and I notice so that people willingly accept certain things.
Once I began to gush blood fountain while I was running on Braccianese, and I could not quite stop.
short, after a while 'crossing a small town and I stop, take off my helmet, I had the entire face, nose down completely covered in blood and the various nuances of the lumpy areas to cooler ones, I painted the whole area of \u200b\u200bthe mouth, under the nose, chin and down her throat .
I think at that time, even the people who were turned away, he felt an instinct to turn to me, because I had just removed his helmet half fucking village staring at me with his face turned upside down. If
when I happen to lose blood in the street I cover with my hand until I can not find a way to clean myself in that situation all had assumed a tone so grotesque that I went into a bar without even groped to cover me, partly because the hand meanwhile was just as dirty.
In the bar I just shrugged his shoulders and ask where the bathroom was.
Once cleaned up I went and ordered a coffee and a donut (even to restore the pressure, I already low in mine), called the necessary explanations to the bartender and I went a bit 'embarrassed.

Blood traumatic experience is not common for me, I remember with a certain sweetness when, recently, a friend of mine dropped me a karate mawashi geri in the face.
Ruzzolai ground and felt the walls of my nose immediately sprinkle of hot blood.
wounds youth, peelings, chromium, mercury, cuts playing with knives: the practice in fact.

Unfortunately, sometimes the blood is less fun and more cruel you know.
One of the memories I vividly etched in my memory about an appointment with my friend, after this we were going home by motorbike in the evening, on Via Cassia, there was traffic.
When we got close to what had caused all that traffic, the boy was still lying on the asphalt, with the helmet and stuck a big, ominous, dark, dense, blood stain surrounded by several centimeters of view of his head.
Unfortunately I saw him later, and the motor was trying frantically to extricate themselves from traffic, in fact inadvertently put a foot on that spot, seemed thicker than an inch thick as it was, they took the signs with me for a long time.


The Blood by Giuliano Bartoletti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License .

Poloroid Captive Film

Hello, hello, grandparents. [12/08/2010 facebook]

Hello, hello, grandparents.

LivingDead gozaimasu published by Sidney on Wednesday, December 8, 2010 at 3:43

Every age has a gradient ... Every age has a complex series of shades of color denote different characteristics, more or less common to most people who share social dynamics more or less similar.
Given the premise, I must clarify that contrary to what the title suggests, I do not speak of old age (and how could I) but to me, the twenty-five years.
My age, as all age groups, it is hard.
is no longer the age at which they abandon the certainties of childhood, but even worse is the age at which you would have already had to abandon them for a while.
E 'the age when you still a student, an official from the parents-and-let's face cracked like a thrush, you begin to see their peers who work, who leave, they become independent or in some cases procreate.

You are there, ideally holding on to your couch, your toy, your symbol of childhood, adulthood craves, frightened by the responsibility that entails, embarrassed by your childishness, unable to let go of what no longer exists.
The thing I really do not know to let go but it is a specific characteristic of the children.
When you're a kid, in fact, it can be anything.
A child can aspire to become anything, and he is, in effect, the beginning of everything.
There is, we at our age, thrown in a phase of certainty, when in reality it feels anything but certain.
We really are the pure indeterminacy, we have nothing: from all to nothing.
But there's something else that requires serious hard adulthood, our children's minds.

You start to having to deal with a curse that will haunt us for the rest of our lives, a terrible event and implacable, that does nothing but remind us with tragic punctuality, inescapable task of the eternal end.
not want to dwell on the tragedy, however, that insinuates itself in everyone's life, when it faces the loss of loved ones.
However, except in special cases, there are some stages where you tend to lose: the first grandparents, then parents and friends in the end less longevity.
As I have said I will not speak of the tragedy of losing loved ones, but just mention that I feel a part of Italian life of an ultra twenties, the son of TV technology.

If the family is that core of people around us, makes us a model and in some way directs us, in the early stages of our life and then takes us to the difficult stages, it is also true that part of all of us did the same background of television programs, myths, models, "with the media." Scholars of movies and shows talk about "suspension of disbelief" when watching a work of fiction, temporarily suspend the proceedings and there rational "persuaded" by what we see.
Perhaps the dynamics are the same, or maybe it's a kind of Stockholm syndrome.
However I, like many of my peers, I feel a form of attachment to a number of individuals who introduced me to the TV screen for many years.
Among these are the ones that I like to call the "grandparents" of the TV.
These gentlemen, the ladies, always smiling, adventurous, sometimes funny, never sick, bruised or older on the day before, gave us a feeling of eternity, of security. Did you know that Mike would
Buongiorno aired that evening, that the appointment with the Lady in Yellow would not be skipped, which concern a "Naked Gun" would have met with the same unchanging spirit.
Certain characters were part of the collective and they gave us the inner security of a custom-made habitat for us.
Well, this is the age at which you see falling, one after another, these characters and found that the bitter fate also affects the players in the CRT.
But there is something more behind this complex stage of life.

When I read in the newspaper of the death of a grandfather, I can not help but think that my children, or just the kids younger than me, grow up without these people. This
me because often the conscience of the world of children is so different from the parents, creating conflicts and incompatibilities.
reminds me of my grandfather, who fondly recalls the great actors of his time, giving the idea that the disappearance of these characters is conducive to more of the disappearance of the same, but the transition from one era to another.
gives me the idea that this is why he, my grandfather, seems to experience more regret toward these people, in respect of the death of his friends or acquaintances, to which, in contrast, seems to respond with a laconic fatalism, as mocking.

One day I will tell my niece, or perhaps my daughter, a former television presenter who insulted all, an awful prime minister persecuting Italy for almost twenty years, a funny actor became famous for have interpreted the employee Fantozzi, of this or that singer, that of director who I once met on the train, the great actor who also won a Nobel Prize and a grandfather, a grandfather's true, he joked that when his own age who died and always remember the great movie actors in black and white ... is because once the film was in color, no, not interactive 3D ...? I think not ... no, I would sit in the cinema and watch ... for about an hour and a half ... but as that sucks! Ah, you young people do not understand the value of simple things!

Hello and thanks to all tele-grandparents gone, dead or trapassandi.

Hello, hello, grandparents. by Giuliano Bartoletti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License .

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Preparing for Your Trip [08/01/2010 facebook] First of all

Preparing for Your Trip

published by LivingDead gozaimasu Sydney on Sunday, August 1, 2010 at 1:21

spending big now! I'm here with 20 days notice to get ready once the empire Eastern Roman Empire.
Defying the Levantine coast of his beloved homeland, we leveremo over the forehead, and then southward through the steep curves of the Illyrian coast and crossing the short neck of land Montenegro, we will take the sea from Dubrovnik to our local station in Brindisi, marking the Capitoline stage as the end of our trip to two wheels.

Modern Alexander, riding a horse 2 cylinder that brave and beautiful devouring the miles: leaving behind the rest.
life camping life uncomfortable, back to nature. Only the knife, only the rope.
Sleeping on the stones, under the stars, protected by woods. Only water, only the fire.
But the day is metal, it is asphalt, gasoline is!
Roads, maps, compasses and wind.
I feel very strong instinct for adventure.

Note written during the preparations for a trip to Croatia on a motorcycle, occurred during the first weeks of September.

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First, a small presentation: small peche
say I'm not going to be here making a list, trying to describe who I am, what I do, what I did or why.

simply would not be able, it would bore me and you, and then is more beautiful than to know me for what I write, that describe who I am. In a nutshell
are a boy of 22 years, I live in Rome and I like to write. The
much too open a blog born from the imminent cancellation of my account by well-known social network "facebook", and the desire to preserve and continue to publish my "notes".

I chose you from among the hundreds of friends I have on facebook, because obviously I think it worthwhile to continue to keep in touch with you, just you.

E 'Alas the day came when Julie Bartoletti, known as the Sidney Livingdead gozaimasu, remove your contact facebook, forever.

The reasons?

I simply lever too long.

I think facebook is a great positive revolution, but is not suitable for me, I do not have the maturity to be able to adjust the commitments of my daily life with the temptation to communicate with all the people I love, I love, of communicate with you at all times.

I'd also like to resize my circle of knowledge focusing on quality rather than quantity.

Next week will proceed with the removal of my account, to give time to all of you to read, comment and respond.

My intention is not to disappear, even pretend to want and keep in touch with you and all the people who like you have received this e-mail.

My contacts are:

Email: Giulban@alice.it

Skype: People-Young (do not use msn because skype is better)

Blog: www.quelligiovani.blogspot.com

(the blog is brand new, I opened it just to save my notes and post new ones)

I do not know if once removed my account will be deleted also my email from your history, but these contacts marked for safety.

Another huge benefit that you wonder, if just a little 'you care, you send me an email, so I can mark your address and keep in touch with you.

I know that this message will arrive when you think "what a drag, mo I'm not going to access the inbox, then do it" but please, do it now, sign and send me an email, because a week passes hurry and you forget.

One piece of advice I give you is to download Mozilla Thunderbird, the first Never check e-mail, attend the university since I started using this software and I can keep up ...

(oh my God, it looks like spam ... I swear that I wrote it because I want to keep in touch with my friends!)

even while we're also downloaded Skype and leave the MSN shit ...

not know what else to say except to ask you again to write to my address and hope to meet you soon.

I salute you and thank you for your attention.

Giuliano

this is the email with which I left.

In the coming hours or the next day, I will publish some of my notes on facebook, then I begin to write new things.

Thoughts, stories, ideas, needs.

I hope to find many involved.

a greeting,

Young People.

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historian Manuel Ritz brand has renewed himself, his passion for fashion, clothing and creative vocation.
last few days the new site is online Spring Summer 2011, the main feature? a new way to browse through the different sections together with a graphics outside of the usual standard.
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