VAMPIROLOGÍA AGENDA GENERAL OFFICER
813 - GENERAL VAMPIROLOGÍA
Department: Obituaries and Resurrection.
Credits: 5'1 Optional
OBJECTIVES The main objective of the General Vampirología is to present theoretical and practical bases for the activities of the vampire. It focuses on the key issues for survival, with the majority of the workload and its peripheral disciplines hematophagy. Guidelines were also established to develop advanced in more specific subjects. CONTENT
ITEM 1: Anatomy of arteriovenous. Demystifying the jugular. Advantages of the wrist on the neck. Accessory pathways.
ITEM 2: Techniques and arteriopunción venipuncture. Best angle of bite. Most effective methods of blood flow important.
ITEM 3: Microgeografía. The shadows as allies. The advantages of urban architecture.
ITEM 4: Stalking. The importance of secrecy.
TOPIC 5: The seduction as a weapon. Best places to hunt.
ITEM 6: basic human psychology. Exploiting the desire of the victim.
ITEM 7: criminal and civil law. Basic forensic medicine. What to do with the body?
ITEM 8: Family and friends. How to avoid suspicion.
ITEM 9: refined techniques. The "Sip" as art. Local Gothic as a simple gathering of victims. The madness of revenge or fun.
ITEM 10: Tips from the interaction with mortals. Why not grow fond of humans.
ITEM 11: Servants. Historical origin. Utility. Functions. Methods of allegiance.
ITEM 12: Slayer. Methods for diagnosis. Warning signs. Better strategies to avoid them. Self-defense. Seduction in self-defense.
ITEM 13: The Embrace, historical context and definitions. The selection of the future vampire. Features to avoid. Embrace accidental: how to prevent, diagnose early and treat it. Demographics basic vampire. Embrace basic techniques. Advanced techniques: how to empower individuals. BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abdul Al-Hazred. Al-Azif. 969
Bram Stoker. Dracula. 2008
Espasa
TEACHING METHODOLOGY Lectures (2.6 credits): Consisting of Lectures, supported by audiovisual material.
Practical classes (2.5 credits): Consisting of:
Training workshops (0.5 credits) Study of clinical cases
(0.5 credits)
tutor-led activities (1.5 credits) FACULTY
Dr. Vlad Temper (2 credits theoretical, 1.5 practical credits) Dr. Erzhebeth Báthoty
(0.6 theoretical credits, 0 ' 5 credits practical)
Dr. Alucard (0.5 credits practical)
EVALUATION Evaluation of individual rate will be summative and will consist of three parts.
The first will consist of a written screening test which will assess the theoretical knowledge of the subject, consisting of:
Thirty (30) questions from five (5) multiple choice, with only one (1) correct answer, in which each correct answer is measured with a (1) point, the answers are not answered are valued at zero (0) points and failed responses are valued less than zero point three (- 0.3) points. It is essential to obtain twenty (20) points or more to overcome.
Five (5) questions of development of limited size (maximum of ten (10) lines), in which each correct answer allows a total of five (5) points being the highest mark to reach five (25) points. It is essential to obtain seventeen (17) or more points to overcome it.
Two (2) questions of development of unlimited extension, to choose one of the two. Achieve the highest grade is thirty (30) points. It is essential to obtain twenty (20) or more points to overcome it.
In total, the first part has a maximum score of 85 points. To overcome the first part is essential to overcome each of its sections separately, and obtain a sum of sixty (60) or more points overall.
The second will consist of a written screening test which will assess the knowledge of the subject, consisting of:
Five (5) questions such as "Case Report" with audiovisual support, five (5) multiple responses with a (1) correct answer, which is correct answer assessed with two (2) points, the answers are not answered are valued at zero (0) points and failed responses are valued less than zero point three (-0 '3) points. It is essential to obtain three (3) points or more to overcome.
The third will consist of a practical screening test, which will assess the technical capabilities of the student by a personal tutor, who will value in a simulated exercise hematophagy:
a) The technique used.
b) Cleanliness.
c) The speed.
d) Theoretical knowledge applied and evaluated with oral direct questions.
In total has a maximum score of 10 points. To overcome it is essential to get seven (7) points or more.
To pass the course must be overcome each of the three component parts. The final evaluation will be graded as follows:
FAIL: If either party has not been exceeded. The parties will have to overcome not exceeded in the subsequent calls, except for the first part (written screening test theory).
APPROVED: If you have passed all three parts. Seventy (70) to seventy-nine (79) points (both included).
NOTABLE: If you have a score of eighty (80) to eighty-nine (89) points (both included).
OUTSTANDING: Si se ha obtenido una puntuación de noventa (90) a cien (100) puntos (ambos incluidos).
MATRÍCULA DE HONOR: Se otorgarán una (1) MATRÍCULA DE HONOR por cada veinte (20) alumnos matriculados en la asignatura. Se seleccionarán los alumnos que hayan obtenidos puntuaciones iguales o superiores a noventa y cinco (95) puntos.
SUPUESTO UNO: De no alcanzar el suficiente número de alumnos los criterios necesarios para obtener MATRÍCULA DE HONOR, quedarán desiertas; siendo una excepción el caso en el que ningún alumno alcance los requisitos, será entregada entonces una (1) MATRÍCULA DE HONOR al alumno con la mayor puntuación (de haber más de un alumno con la maximum score, and only in this case would be handed over as many Honors students, if there were more students with the highest scoring honors, would be superimposed to course DOS).
COURSE TWO: to reach the number of students exceeds the number of Honors the criteria, there will be a unique test to these students, consisting of the development of one (1) randomly chosen topic on the agenda of the subject. This test will be assessed with a score of one (1), worse outcome, a hundred (100), best result, thus selecting the best results to deliver the honors. Of dead heat occur during this phase, and the unique case in which the tie occurs between the last row immediately classified and will be purchased scores in ordinal tests, so you'll get REGISTRATION OF HONOR those who have the more global note, the occurrence of a tie, the highest grade in the written screening test theory, the occurrence of a tie, the largest note in circulation selective testing, the occurrence of a tie (to be seen, therefore, a dead heat in all tests) will make use of special oral examination in which a jury composed of members from related departments, outside this school, will appreciate which of the two candidates deserves to get the honors.
Transylvania, December 27, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Best Blinds Allergies
Yiya Zaffino goes with the anguish and the object Winicott
Some phrases that seem significant to the topic: "The object and the threshold of distress" because of the possibility of being articulated with some concepts of Lacan as "devoid of purpose" " imaginary and symbolic register "," object "," paradox "...
Author: DW Winnicott.
Work: Reality and Game, Ed.Gedisa, 1990
Adrogué The author says in the Introduction:
"I think now widely recognized that what we study in this part of my job is not the cloth or the bear using the baby; not so much the object used as the use of that object. I call attention to the paradox that involves the use, by the young child, what I called the transitional object. My contribution is to ask that the paradox is accepted, tolerated and respected, and not resolve it. It is possible to solve through the escape to the intellectual functioning divided, but the price is the loss of value of the paradox itself. "Ibid., p.14, (emphasis mine.)
Some features of the transitional object.
"1. The transitional object represents the breast, or the object of the first relationship.
2. It predates the test established reality.
3. In connection with the transitional object the infant passes from the domain omnipotent (magic) to dominance by manipulation (involving muscle eroticism and pleasure of coordination). " Idem. p. 26. (Emphasis added)
Baby "perceives the breast only to the extent that you can create one at the time and place. There is no exchange between him and the mother. In psychological terms, the baby feeds from one breast that is part of it and the mother gives milk to a baby that is part of it. " Idem. pg. 30. (Sub. added)
Coordination between the transitional object and transitional phenomena.
"Enter the terms" transitional objects "and" transitional phenomena "to describe the intermediate area of \u200b\u200bexperience, between the thumb and the teddy bear, between oral eroticism and true object relationship, between primary creative activity and projection of has already been introjected, between primary unawareness of debt and the recognition of this ("Di-ta") "Idem. pg. 18. (Sub. added)
"The transitional phenomena represent the early stages of use of illusion, without which it makes sense to man the idea of \u200b\u200ba relationship with an object that others perceive as external to that being." Idem. pg. 29, (the sub.'s Mine)
"... when the mother is absent, or anyone else which depends on the baby, there is no immediate change because it has a memory or mental image of the mother , or what we call an internal representation of it, which is kept alive for a certain period. "Ibid. pg. 33. (Sub. added)
the transitional object relationship with symbolism as "emblem? a. Object
"intermediate area of \u200b\u200bexperience, unchallenged in respect of membership of an inner reality or external (shared), constitutes the largest part of the experience of the baby, and kept along the intense life experiences that relate to the arts and religion, to the imaginative life and creative scientific work.
Usually the infant's transitional object download slowly, especially as they develop cultural interests. "Ibid. pg. 32, (sub. added)
"Clearly, what is the transitional object. This baby represents the transition from a state in which it is fused to the mother to a relationship with her as something external and separate "Idem. pg. 32, (sub. added)
A text by the same author on another of his works: "Human nature", Ed, Buenos Aires 1996.
"The transitional object or first possession is an object that the child has created, but at the same time we say this we know that is, in effect, a blanket or piece of fringe on a blanket or scarf. The next possession will be given to the baby by an aunt and change it he will say "ta" in recognition of a limitation of their control magic and the dependence on the goodwill of the people in the outside world. "Ibid. , pg. 153, (emphasis mine).
think that for Winnicott the transitional object is used as a defense against anxiety and the role of symbolic matrix in the subject would enable new libidinal investiture pathways. Beloved Yiya
Zaffino.
Some phrases that seem significant to the topic: "The object and the threshold of distress" because of the possibility of being articulated with some concepts of Lacan as "devoid of purpose" " imaginary and symbolic register "," object "," paradox "...
Author: DW Winnicott.
Work: Reality and Game, Ed.Gedisa, 1990
Adrogué The author says in the Introduction:
"I think now widely recognized that what we study in this part of my job is not the cloth or the bear using the baby; not so much the object used as the use of that object. I call attention to the paradox that involves the use, by the young child, what I called the transitional object. My contribution is to ask that the paradox is accepted, tolerated and respected, and not resolve it. It is possible to solve through the escape to the intellectual functioning divided, but the price is the loss of value of the paradox itself. "Ibid., p.14, (emphasis mine.)
Some features of the transitional object.
"1. The transitional object represents the breast, or the object of the first relationship.
2. It predates the test established reality.
3. In connection with the transitional object the infant passes from the domain omnipotent (magic) to dominance by manipulation (involving muscle eroticism and pleasure of coordination). " Idem. p. 26. (Emphasis added)
Baby "perceives the breast only to the extent that you can create one at the time and place. There is no exchange between him and the mother. In psychological terms, the baby feeds from one breast that is part of it and the mother gives milk to a baby that is part of it. " Idem. pg. 30. (Sub. added)
Coordination between the transitional object and transitional phenomena.
"Enter the terms" transitional objects "and" transitional phenomena "to describe the intermediate area of \u200b\u200bexperience, between the thumb and the teddy bear, between oral eroticism and true object relationship, between primary creative activity and projection of has already been introjected, between primary unawareness of debt and the recognition of this ("Di-ta") "Idem. pg. 18. (Sub. added)
"The transitional phenomena represent the early stages of use of illusion, without which it makes sense to man the idea of \u200b\u200ba relationship with an object that others perceive as external to that being." Idem. pg. 29, (the sub.'s Mine)
"... when the mother is absent, or anyone else which depends on the baby, there is no immediate change because it has a memory or mental image of the mother , or what we call an internal representation of it, which is kept alive for a certain period. "Ibid. pg. 33. (Sub. added)
the transitional object relationship with symbolism as "emblem? a. Object
"intermediate area of \u200b\u200bexperience, unchallenged in respect of membership of an inner reality or external (shared), constitutes the largest part of the experience of the baby, and kept along the intense life experiences that relate to the arts and religion, to the imaginative life and creative scientific work.
Usually the infant's transitional object download slowly, especially as they develop cultural interests. "Ibid. pg. 32, (sub. added)
"Clearly, what is the transitional object. This baby represents the transition from a state in which it is fused to the mother to a relationship with her as something external and separate "Idem. pg. 32, (sub. added)
A text by the same author on another of his works: "Human nature", Ed, Buenos Aires 1996.
"The transitional object or first possession is an object that the child has created, but at the same time we say this we know that is, in effect, a blanket or piece of fringe on a blanket or scarf. The next possession will be given to the baby by an aunt and change it he will say "ta" in recognition of a limitation of their control magic and the dependence on the goodwill of the people in the outside world. "Ibid. , pg. 153, (emphasis mine).
think that for Winnicott the transitional object is used as a defense against anxiety and the role of symbolic matrix in the subject would enable new libidinal investiture pathways. Beloved Yiya
Zaffino.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
What Does Alexis Texas Do
things to come. We started up what is working. Córdoba
This is a very interesting, very good finds reading and Cecilia Diego Luparello Moia developed as a proposal for the next meeting in June. The comments on it are welcome.
Studies Heinrich Racker psychoanalytic technique.
"Being an analyst means, in this aspect, not responding retaliate, do not enter the neurotic vicious circle, not subject to the defenses of the review, which implies a continuous activity in the search for understanding"
"The relationship of the analyst analyzed with a lustful relationship and constant emotional experience, the desires, frustrations and anxieties of the analyst, however slight, are real oscillations in the counter on a part-consistently with the oscillations of the transfer and Treatment depends on the fate of a large degree of the analyst's ability to maintain over the destinies of his countertransference countertransference neurosis positive or born again make it any damage incurred, as the mythical Phoenix bird that emerges anew from its own ashes "
" The analytical process of transformation, therefore, depends in great degree on the quantity and quality of eros the analyst can mobilize for their review. Is a specific form of Eros, Eros is called understanding, and is also a specific form of understanding. It is, above all, understanding what is rejected, as feared and hated man, and this thanks to greater fighting force - increased aggression, against everything that hides the truth from illusion and denial; in a word against that fear and hatred of man to himself and their pathological consequences. "Lacan
transfer Intervention
" We believe, however, that the transfer always has the same meaning to indicate the moments of wandering and also orientation the analyst, the same value to recall the order of our paper: a positive inaction ortodramatización overlooking the subjectivity of the patient "
variants
cure-rate" The vague term review is to remedy too often retained at the waterline to interpret, the default for putting Aldi. It is certainly an effect of escape from what is in the mind of the practitioner. The consistency of the false notion of countertransference, her fashion and swagger that harbors s explain to serve here as an alibi: the analyst escapes through them to consider the action that corresponds to the production of truth. "
This is a very interesting, very good finds reading and Cecilia Diego Luparello Moia developed as a proposal for the next meeting in June. The comments on it are welcome.
Studies Heinrich Racker psychoanalytic technique.
"Being an analyst means, in this aspect, not responding retaliate, do not enter the neurotic vicious circle, not subject to the defenses of the review, which implies a continuous activity in the search for understanding"
"The relationship of the analyst analyzed with a lustful relationship and constant emotional experience, the desires, frustrations and anxieties of the analyst, however slight, are real oscillations in the counter on a part-consistently with the oscillations of the transfer and Treatment depends on the fate of a large degree of the analyst's ability to maintain over the destinies of his countertransference countertransference neurosis positive or born again make it any damage incurred, as the mythical Phoenix bird that emerges anew from its own ashes "
" The analytical process of transformation, therefore, depends in great degree on the quantity and quality of eros the analyst can mobilize for their review. Is a specific form of Eros, Eros is called understanding, and is also a specific form of understanding. It is, above all, understanding what is rejected, as feared and hated man, and this thanks to greater fighting force - increased aggression, against everything that hides the truth from illusion and denial; in a word against that fear and hatred of man to himself and their pathological consequences. "Lacan
transfer Intervention
" We believe, however, that the transfer always has the same meaning to indicate the moments of wandering and also orientation the analyst, the same value to recall the order of our paper: a positive inaction ortodramatización overlooking the subjectivity of the patient "
variants
cure-rate" The vague term review is to remedy too often retained at the waterline to interpret, the default for putting Aldi. It is certainly an effect of escape from what is in the mind of the practitioner. The consistency of the false notion of countertransference, her fashion and swagger that harbors s explain to serve here as an alibi: the analyst escapes through them to consider the action that corresponds to the production of truth. "
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Stabbed By Clean Insulin Needle
Moroaică
The Nosferat not only sucks the blood of the sleepers, but also can act as an incubus or succubus. It is the bastard offspring born dead and two people who are also illegal. Just been given burial comes to life and leaves his grave, never to return to it.
- Heinrich von Wlislocki
noticed Sophia in her hand frozen moisture seeping from the earth under your nails, and as he began to dig it up fresh rain aroma freshly fallen. The sensations were familiar, his memory still lingered so vivid, that all doubts were cleared and the conviction of doing what should be done spurred her to dig harder. The sense of déjà vu came over his mind and began to enter into an altered state of consciousness, which actually overlapped the dream that had recurred during the nights of his life, but had been reluctant to be remembered waking up three months ago.
In the dream was the mother, who lay in the clearing, cradling in her arms the Child. His eyes felt dry, despite rain fell strongly about it, from time to mourn and cry, her heart beat with passion fatigued by the long race in his legs felt shaky. Chapped lips approached the front of the Child, I knew cold, hard, for never was the flesh imbued life Cinderella. Carefully let the boy down, burying his hands in the damp earth, feeling under his nails, and dug relentlessly.
was never aware of sleep, because tomorrow Clement erased the nightmare of his memory, until a February afternoon the Countess came to his shop. This one, located in the vicinity of the tavern The Red Cup, near Portobello, apparently sold medicinal herbs and infusions, but was actually a cover for a more lucrative business. High London ladies came there, under the guise of a remedy for headaches or some homeopathic prescription from a dubious reputation, for other purposes in mind, and using different passwords to let you know Sophia, as a hand gesture or a significant look, as he had launched the Contessa. Recognizing this signal was passed behind the scenes, ensuring there have needed medicine to ward off prying eyes and ears and, once there, sat at a table covered with table cloths in bright colors on a red light and poor, and between vapor and exotic incense. She got out her Tarot cards, but were not necessary, and placed on the table and let his natural talent sound out the threads in the near future to respond to questions from the aristocrat. Sophia remembered, had always been told what would happen in the coming days, what time would do, and who would die, which had managed to conceal from the nuns who ran the orphanage where he grew up. That was when it happened: the maid of the Countess crossed the curtain, while Sophia went into a trance half fake. Shouted the word several times, pointing an accusing finger, and ran.
The Countess was forced to apologize, justifying it with the excuse that it was foreign, he put enough pounds to pay for three sessions, and went in search of his missing servant. Sophia did not realize until later, lost in the confusion that had occurred that cry while bouncing over and over again in his mind, awakening the dream in his memory.
When, hours later, he recovered from the impression, slowly uttered the word: Moroaică.
In the dream there were also shouting, but occurred before clearing in the forest. He remembered in a vague and fleeting moment as a way in the fog. Mother screamed, called her "whore" and "illegitimate", accused her of "sinner" and "vicious", "wife of demons" some said. The mother also cried, but she was screaming "please" and "let me", and above all prayed, "let him rest in holy ground." Child in his arms lay inert, as he was born. Faces severe and authoritarian flanked the door of a cemetery, preventing their passage to the cemetery, shouting "whore", "sinful", "bastard", "child of sin." And the most authoritative voice shouted then: "Never."
He was embarrassed when he stood before the gates of the mansion of the Countess. In his hands a package of paper full of spices, and the servants had told him a drug to his wife, Sophia Smith from the herbalist. Recognizing the signs given, Countess allowed to meet her, filled with a morbid curiosity of the idle bourgeoisie itself.
- What issues do you bring to my house, baby?
After initial reluctance, let your tongue Sophia pasted by shyness:
"I was looking at your maid, who came with you the other day.
- To this rude? Well, sorry, kid, but dismissed it haughtily replied the countess. To the disappointment of Sophia, he said -: But what did it?
"It was for that word you said in my shop ...
" Oh, yes, I questioned. In their language means witch or devil or something. Moldovan
stupid superstitious ... Knowing that eluded him the opportunity to know the mystery, Sophia collected more value in his life, and the Countess told everything about his dream. When he finished, looked down, blushing, while the Countess judge seemed to finally smile funny:
- I think I can help. You see, there is a woman, poor thing, is very ill. Has a very serious condition ... "He lowered his voice and then walked confidant nympho-Sophia-is then returned to its usual chatter -: Poor does not know his name, it seems that their parents were foreigners, some people or something Vlach well-fuss made by hand, suggesting how little that mattered. Then again in a confidential tone, he said -: As it happens, has the power to interpret dreams.
- "Where is she?
"I'll take you to it.
Not always, but some nights the mother remembered the Father. Not his face or his body, his hands just long slender fingers and sharp nails. I remember on his body, claiming for themselves the pleasure of Mother by right of conquest. Those nights Sophia rose even more confusing, is that fear that caused him shouting, to the despair of digging a grave for Mother and Child, inevitably joined the desire that the Father gave him, full of guilt.
who has enough money can go through any door, and doors of this asylum were no exception. The meager salary of carers and nurses in that den, hired more for his size and strength of their knowledge or ability in the care of patients, made them easy targets slush, and an illegal, hidden just in visits for more or less honest in the moonless nights, rather than conferring a considerable tip these guys. The way they came out dragging a huge chilling barking dog was an old acquaintance of the Countess, and did not hesitate in accepting the pounds delivered to open the door, and lead a good step towards the chosen cell. During a walk through the outdoor gardens gloomy and dark, Sophia stroked the dog's head before the keeper could warn him, receiving a loving lick from the dog.
"Be careful," he said doubtfully - in other circumstances would have ripped his hand. Not domesticated, the director preferred. Sophia
withdrew the teasing, not without feeling somewhat confused by the contrast between what happened and that predicted by the brutal nurse.
He tied the dog with a strong chain and, as they had gone, resumed its aggression imposed manic, deafening barking, which were heard despite entering the thick brick enclosure. The nurse walked briskly from the echoes of the empty halls, while the ladies continued to light the candle that he carried through a maze of giant metal doors open with his passkey. Gave a tiled hallway to the roof, with several bars interposed a blank wall and the other full of doors in which only highlighted the small windows. They had to stand in line, as far as possible away the ladies of the walls, where moisture and time had spun cobwebs of rust and dust from chipped tiles and porcelain fragments had fallen through which the waving antennae shooting. The metal was not in better condition, chipped green paint and rust revealing a hundred years.
"It's to prevent riots," said the nurse.
- What? Asked Sophia.
-aisles. Why are so narrow. It is easier to contain them as well.
was referring the sick, that while many were sleeping, others remained awake, so insistent scratching at the walls, raising litany, perhaps, not have any sense, or perhaps too much.
"It's in the visiting room, put it there when I told you was coming, but I doubt I get to get something today, is in one of his days.
"Do not worry, dear, we can get will be good," said the countess.
neared the end of the hall, a desperate cry and a loud knock at a door caused fear and distress the Countess Sophia. The nurse apologized and opened the door carefully, and came closing behind. Women just heard thuds, who preferred not to interpret, and asked no questions when the man left the room with skinned knuckles.
Finally reached the visiting room, a larger than others, where a grid of thick bars separating them from a woman who was hiding in the corners of the cell.
-Las leave you alone, come back in half an hour, no matter what happens.
"Okay, dear, until now. Staying
alone were able to study better the woman. I was curled up, his hands hidden between his legs, covered by a shirt patched with sweat stains and other less identifiable, and hid in a head shoulders small, round, gray hair matted and greasy. The Countess was struck and, returning his body, they discovered that his hands were lost in his crotch. His face crumpled and thin, consumptive yellow and covered in sweat, only reflected the absence.
"We need to interpret a dream," said the countess.
did not seem to listen, but when I tried to repeat the phrase, a shrill cry was born from his throat and, in crescendo, became a desperate cry while rolling threw to the ground, hands grasping the knees, and head banging wall rhythmically.
- Why? "She sobbed.
I do not think this is good idea, "said Sophia.
"Oh, do not worry, sometimes it's so. You ask.
"I want you back, still crying, oblivious to the conversation across the fence. Sophia
approached her, intending to ask the meaning of the dream, but the patient suddenly rose to four feet, and in this guise he went to one of the walls, where they leaned back and began to ascend.
"I want ... I want you back again ..." he repeated.
- Who? -Sophia could not help asking.
-entered my room security night, and took my virtue with your tongue black.
He approached the fence, still whispering.
ice His hands deflowered my breasts put her hands to her breasts, caressing them - my neck, his right hand clenched in his throat - "I left all went down the curve of the belly, and was a claw -. groin Endorsed me for thirty nights, from a full moon to another. Took
bars with both hands, drooping eyelids fluttering and restless tongue licking.
"I felt his blood flow through my lips, and felt my body being taken away from me. Fell
its desperate voice in a shrill, almost a squeak of rodent. He cocked his head, rubbing against the cold metal, leaving traces of rust on his sweaty forehead.
- I became a woman thirty times every night during a full moon! Suddenly roared, throwing a fuss with his hands and left again.
"We better go," suggested the countess.
"Nine months ..." continued the woman whispered, kneeling now in the middle of his cell, where the moonlight drew a dry pond and spectral-, nine months passed after the last full moon, and the seed grew on me it grew on me. And I wanted more, wanted more nights with him, wanted to return his hands and his cock, his cock much missed! He never returned.
"This is too obscene for a girl like you, we go! "Said the countess, taking the hand of Sophia, who refused to leave, haunted by the story of the unnamed woman.
-and spent nine months, and no man or woman born of my womb and seed, because there was a man who visited me was Nosferat. A shiver of recognition
walked back to Sophia, who released the countess's hand, grabbed the bars tightly, and approached his face as possible to the prostrate woman to ask
- What were you born?
The woman turned, still kneeling, one hand touching their private parts repeatedly.
"It's never enough ..." she thought to herself, with eyes and eyelids quivering - it is never enough when you've been touched by the Nosferat-panted incessantly.
- I was born! Cried even harder.
The woman opened her eyes, smiled sadly, and looking somewhere beyond the regions of men, replied:
-Moroaică.
When Mother finished burying Child, hear the howls, and wolves appeared. There were many weak and sickly, desperate and therefore more dangerous. His eyes were blood thirsty, and their tongues hanging anticipatory drool. Mother had no more strength to resist, and without mercy or leniency fell on her, tearing skin, tore her breasts, thighs and face, devouring the hot meat and entrails, and blood was shed on the earth removed. And until the body was not destroyed in the clearing, Sophia could not wake up, between sweating and palpitations, his nightmare. Could
discover days later, the apparent origin of the woman. Those who assumed his parents came from a village in the Carpathians, in an adjacent region indicate whether anyone knew belonged to Wallachia and Transylvania, but everyone wanted to claim for itself. Countess Thanking your help, and selling the entire contents of his tent, packed a knapsack with single that launched an arduous journey. In those days the Turkish and Russian empires vied for the lands of Wallachia and Moldavia, while among the peasants of the village was born a revolutionary seed, which threatened to popular uprisings and bloodshed, and the rest of Europe was trying to impose peace offices and treated without much success. Convulsive being the situation, and so difficult to access the steep hills, it took time and suffering to reach, eventually, to a humble little town, lost among forests and gorges. It received a warm welcome, but not the expected. He walked through the deserted streets, watching the houses with exotic architecture, sharp and tapering roof and could see the cemetery. From the moment in which he acknowledged the stones of the tombs, and trembled waiting to hear the screams and family, knew he was right, and a primal instinct led him into the woods as the sun went down, dragging it hopelessly into the clearing from his nightmares.
feeling your fingers something hard in their excavation, and land starting his loot in his hands was a pale child smile: small, delicate skull of a long dead body. The dream he was struck on the eve, just where it had always done, with Mother lying on the ground, dead and broken. The wolves were gone, and the body in the open was shaken by the violence of the rain, dragging with it the blood spilled, leaking into the earth, filtering through the rocks and roots, soaking the Child. And the child opened his eyes. Sophia
When he awoke, he hoped the wolves, but this was not a dream. Around him were gathered at least seven beasts of gray fur black and dirty, whose uneasy gasps and steps around her and approached. From their mouths gaping white mist came a whiff of putrid with each breath, as pink tongues hanging pendulous, or contracted licking hungry jaws. Yet, no one was afraid, but rather, a peace that can only come from the harshness of reality. Now I knew I could, and in an authoritative voice said: "Go
.
All obeyed except one. The biggest of all. Hidden before the rest of the pack, now Sophia could see that it was a monstrous creature, perhaps hound of Hades, and not of flesh and bone. His shaggy black hair was whipped by the wind, and his eyes were brighter than any living creature. Standing on two legs, and there was no wolf, but man, his hair covering his body were skins, but his eyes shone likewise.
"My skull in your hands and my blood in your veins," he greeted the creature.
- Who are you? Sophia asked, knowing the answer.
"I have no name because I was never baptized. I have no family, because I am an illegitimate child of illegitimate parents. It was not the milk from my mother who nursed me, but her blood did not sleep in crib made by man, but in moist soil between the roots of this forest. I was buried dead and resurfaced alive. People know me as Nosferat.
- Are you my father? "Cried a bitter tear.
"You're my seed unholy daughter, yes.
- What am I? "Strongly embraced the small skull, as if he could give warmth of his chest with that gesture. "You Moroaică
.
- And what does that mean?
"That is our night. Arise, Moroaică, give me your hand, and conquer the night. Sophia
rose from the ground, dropping the skull to the hole to be his eternal rest. He approached the figure, and took the cold hand with long fingers that tended. Then he remembered for the first time how to fly, and the soil off your feet. At the end was where it should be, under the protection of silvery moon and surrounded by the cold breath of the night.
"Soon the armies of the East, crosses and crescents alike massacred the revolution," said Nosferat -. Will be time for vermin and scavengers, there will be blood and meat for all, will be a great feast.
"Yes," Sophia - I can see it, father.
And so delicious looking meal left them.
- Heinrich von Wlislocki
noticed Sophia in her hand frozen moisture seeping from the earth under your nails, and as he began to dig it up fresh rain aroma freshly fallen. The sensations were familiar, his memory still lingered so vivid, that all doubts were cleared and the conviction of doing what should be done spurred her to dig harder. The sense of déjà vu came over his mind and began to enter into an altered state of consciousness, which actually overlapped the dream that had recurred during the nights of his life, but had been reluctant to be remembered waking up three months ago.
In the dream was the mother, who lay in the clearing, cradling in her arms the Child. His eyes felt dry, despite rain fell strongly about it, from time to mourn and cry, her heart beat with passion fatigued by the long race in his legs felt shaky. Chapped lips approached the front of the Child, I knew cold, hard, for never was the flesh imbued life Cinderella. Carefully let the boy down, burying his hands in the damp earth, feeling under his nails, and dug relentlessly.
was never aware of sleep, because tomorrow Clement erased the nightmare of his memory, until a February afternoon the Countess came to his shop. This one, located in the vicinity of the tavern The Red Cup, near Portobello, apparently sold medicinal herbs and infusions, but was actually a cover for a more lucrative business. High London ladies came there, under the guise of a remedy for headaches or some homeopathic prescription from a dubious reputation, for other purposes in mind, and using different passwords to let you know Sophia, as a hand gesture or a significant look, as he had launched the Contessa. Recognizing this signal was passed behind the scenes, ensuring there have needed medicine to ward off prying eyes and ears and, once there, sat at a table covered with table cloths in bright colors on a red light and poor, and between vapor and exotic incense. She got out her Tarot cards, but were not necessary, and placed on the table and let his natural talent sound out the threads in the near future to respond to questions from the aristocrat. Sophia remembered, had always been told what would happen in the coming days, what time would do, and who would die, which had managed to conceal from the nuns who ran the orphanage where he grew up. That was when it happened: the maid of the Countess crossed the curtain, while Sophia went into a trance half fake. Shouted the word several times, pointing an accusing finger, and ran.
The Countess was forced to apologize, justifying it with the excuse that it was foreign, he put enough pounds to pay for three sessions, and went in search of his missing servant. Sophia did not realize until later, lost in the confusion that had occurred that cry while bouncing over and over again in his mind, awakening the dream in his memory.
When, hours later, he recovered from the impression, slowly uttered the word: Moroaică.
In the dream there were also shouting, but occurred before clearing in the forest. He remembered in a vague and fleeting moment as a way in the fog. Mother screamed, called her "whore" and "illegitimate", accused her of "sinner" and "vicious", "wife of demons" some said. The mother also cried, but she was screaming "please" and "let me", and above all prayed, "let him rest in holy ground." Child in his arms lay inert, as he was born. Faces severe and authoritarian flanked the door of a cemetery, preventing their passage to the cemetery, shouting "whore", "sinful", "bastard", "child of sin." And the most authoritative voice shouted then: "Never."
He was embarrassed when he stood before the gates of the mansion of the Countess. In his hands a package of paper full of spices, and the servants had told him a drug to his wife, Sophia Smith from the herbalist. Recognizing the signs given, Countess allowed to meet her, filled with a morbid curiosity of the idle bourgeoisie itself.
- What issues do you bring to my house, baby?
After initial reluctance, let your tongue Sophia pasted by shyness:
"I was looking at your maid, who came with you the other day.
- To this rude? Well, sorry, kid, but dismissed it haughtily replied the countess. To the disappointment of Sophia, he said -: But what did it?
"It was for that word you said in my shop ...
" Oh, yes, I questioned. In their language means witch or devil or something. Moldovan
stupid superstitious ... Knowing that eluded him the opportunity to know the mystery, Sophia collected more value in his life, and the Countess told everything about his dream. When he finished, looked down, blushing, while the Countess judge seemed to finally smile funny:
- I think I can help. You see, there is a woman, poor thing, is very ill. Has a very serious condition ... "He lowered his voice and then walked confidant nympho-Sophia-is then returned to its usual chatter -: Poor does not know his name, it seems that their parents were foreigners, some people or something Vlach well-fuss made by hand, suggesting how little that mattered. Then again in a confidential tone, he said -: As it happens, has the power to interpret dreams.
- "Where is she?
"I'll take you to it.
Not always, but some nights the mother remembered the Father. Not his face or his body, his hands just long slender fingers and sharp nails. I remember on his body, claiming for themselves the pleasure of Mother by right of conquest. Those nights Sophia rose even more confusing, is that fear that caused him shouting, to the despair of digging a grave for Mother and Child, inevitably joined the desire that the Father gave him, full of guilt.
who has enough money can go through any door, and doors of this asylum were no exception. The meager salary of carers and nurses in that den, hired more for his size and strength of their knowledge or ability in the care of patients, made them easy targets slush, and an illegal, hidden just in visits for more or less honest in the moonless nights, rather than conferring a considerable tip these guys. The way they came out dragging a huge chilling barking dog was an old acquaintance of the Countess, and did not hesitate in accepting the pounds delivered to open the door, and lead a good step towards the chosen cell. During a walk through the outdoor gardens gloomy and dark, Sophia stroked the dog's head before the keeper could warn him, receiving a loving lick from the dog.
"Be careful," he said doubtfully - in other circumstances would have ripped his hand. Not domesticated, the director preferred. Sophia
withdrew the teasing, not without feeling somewhat confused by the contrast between what happened and that predicted by the brutal nurse.
He tied the dog with a strong chain and, as they had gone, resumed its aggression imposed manic, deafening barking, which were heard despite entering the thick brick enclosure. The nurse walked briskly from the echoes of the empty halls, while the ladies continued to light the candle that he carried through a maze of giant metal doors open with his passkey. Gave a tiled hallway to the roof, with several bars interposed a blank wall and the other full of doors in which only highlighted the small windows. They had to stand in line, as far as possible away the ladies of the walls, where moisture and time had spun cobwebs of rust and dust from chipped tiles and porcelain fragments had fallen through which the waving antennae shooting. The metal was not in better condition, chipped green paint and rust revealing a hundred years.
"It's to prevent riots," said the nurse.
- What? Asked Sophia.
-aisles. Why are so narrow. It is easier to contain them as well.
was referring the sick, that while many were sleeping, others remained awake, so insistent scratching at the walls, raising litany, perhaps, not have any sense, or perhaps too much.
"It's in the visiting room, put it there when I told you was coming, but I doubt I get to get something today, is in one of his days.
"Do not worry, dear, we can get will be good," said the countess.
neared the end of the hall, a desperate cry and a loud knock at a door caused fear and distress the Countess Sophia. The nurse apologized and opened the door carefully, and came closing behind. Women just heard thuds, who preferred not to interpret, and asked no questions when the man left the room with skinned knuckles.
Finally reached the visiting room, a larger than others, where a grid of thick bars separating them from a woman who was hiding in the corners of the cell.
-Las leave you alone, come back in half an hour, no matter what happens.
"Okay, dear, until now. Staying
alone were able to study better the woman. I was curled up, his hands hidden between his legs, covered by a shirt patched with sweat stains and other less identifiable, and hid in a head shoulders small, round, gray hair matted and greasy. The Countess was struck and, returning his body, they discovered that his hands were lost in his crotch. His face crumpled and thin, consumptive yellow and covered in sweat, only reflected the absence.
"We need to interpret a dream," said the countess.
did not seem to listen, but when I tried to repeat the phrase, a shrill cry was born from his throat and, in crescendo, became a desperate cry while rolling threw to the ground, hands grasping the knees, and head banging wall rhythmically.
- Why? "She sobbed.
I do not think this is good idea, "said Sophia.
"Oh, do not worry, sometimes it's so. You ask.
"I want you back, still crying, oblivious to the conversation across the fence. Sophia
approached her, intending to ask the meaning of the dream, but the patient suddenly rose to four feet, and in this guise he went to one of the walls, where they leaned back and began to ascend.
"I want ... I want you back again ..." he repeated.
- Who? -Sophia could not help asking.
-entered my room security night, and took my virtue with your tongue black.
He approached the fence, still whispering.
ice His hands deflowered my breasts put her hands to her breasts, caressing them - my neck, his right hand clenched in his throat - "I left all went down the curve of the belly, and was a claw -. groin Endorsed me for thirty nights, from a full moon to another. Took
bars with both hands, drooping eyelids fluttering and restless tongue licking.
"I felt his blood flow through my lips, and felt my body being taken away from me. Fell
its desperate voice in a shrill, almost a squeak of rodent. He cocked his head, rubbing against the cold metal, leaving traces of rust on his sweaty forehead.
- I became a woman thirty times every night during a full moon! Suddenly roared, throwing a fuss with his hands and left again.
"We better go," suggested the countess.
"Nine months ..." continued the woman whispered, kneeling now in the middle of his cell, where the moonlight drew a dry pond and spectral-, nine months passed after the last full moon, and the seed grew on me it grew on me. And I wanted more, wanted more nights with him, wanted to return his hands and his cock, his cock much missed! He never returned.
"This is too obscene for a girl like you, we go! "Said the countess, taking the hand of Sophia, who refused to leave, haunted by the story of the unnamed woman.
-and spent nine months, and no man or woman born of my womb and seed, because there was a man who visited me was Nosferat. A shiver of recognition
walked back to Sophia, who released the countess's hand, grabbed the bars tightly, and approached his face as possible to the prostrate woman to ask
- What were you born?
The woman turned, still kneeling, one hand touching their private parts repeatedly.
"It's never enough ..." she thought to herself, with eyes and eyelids quivering - it is never enough when you've been touched by the Nosferat-panted incessantly.
- I was born! Cried even harder.
The woman opened her eyes, smiled sadly, and looking somewhere beyond the regions of men, replied:
-Moroaică.
When Mother finished burying Child, hear the howls, and wolves appeared. There were many weak and sickly, desperate and therefore more dangerous. His eyes were blood thirsty, and their tongues hanging anticipatory drool. Mother had no more strength to resist, and without mercy or leniency fell on her, tearing skin, tore her breasts, thighs and face, devouring the hot meat and entrails, and blood was shed on the earth removed. And until the body was not destroyed in the clearing, Sophia could not wake up, between sweating and palpitations, his nightmare. Could
discover days later, the apparent origin of the woman. Those who assumed his parents came from a village in the Carpathians, in an adjacent region indicate whether anyone knew belonged to Wallachia and Transylvania, but everyone wanted to claim for itself. Countess Thanking your help, and selling the entire contents of his tent, packed a knapsack with single that launched an arduous journey. In those days the Turkish and Russian empires vied for the lands of Wallachia and Moldavia, while among the peasants of the village was born a revolutionary seed, which threatened to popular uprisings and bloodshed, and the rest of Europe was trying to impose peace offices and treated without much success. Convulsive being the situation, and so difficult to access the steep hills, it took time and suffering to reach, eventually, to a humble little town, lost among forests and gorges. It received a warm welcome, but not the expected. He walked through the deserted streets, watching the houses with exotic architecture, sharp and tapering roof and could see the cemetery. From the moment in which he acknowledged the stones of the tombs, and trembled waiting to hear the screams and family, knew he was right, and a primal instinct led him into the woods as the sun went down, dragging it hopelessly into the clearing from his nightmares.
feeling your fingers something hard in their excavation, and land starting his loot in his hands was a pale child smile: small, delicate skull of a long dead body. The dream he was struck on the eve, just where it had always done, with Mother lying on the ground, dead and broken. The wolves were gone, and the body in the open was shaken by the violence of the rain, dragging with it the blood spilled, leaking into the earth, filtering through the rocks and roots, soaking the Child. And the child opened his eyes. Sophia
When he awoke, he hoped the wolves, but this was not a dream. Around him were gathered at least seven beasts of gray fur black and dirty, whose uneasy gasps and steps around her and approached. From their mouths gaping white mist came a whiff of putrid with each breath, as pink tongues hanging pendulous, or contracted licking hungry jaws. Yet, no one was afraid, but rather, a peace that can only come from the harshness of reality. Now I knew I could, and in an authoritative voice said: "Go
.
All obeyed except one. The biggest of all. Hidden before the rest of the pack, now Sophia could see that it was a monstrous creature, perhaps hound of Hades, and not of flesh and bone. His shaggy black hair was whipped by the wind, and his eyes were brighter than any living creature. Standing on two legs, and there was no wolf, but man, his hair covering his body were skins, but his eyes shone likewise.
"My skull in your hands and my blood in your veins," he greeted the creature.
- Who are you? Sophia asked, knowing the answer.
"I have no name because I was never baptized. I have no family, because I am an illegitimate child of illegitimate parents. It was not the milk from my mother who nursed me, but her blood did not sleep in crib made by man, but in moist soil between the roots of this forest. I was buried dead and resurfaced alive. People know me as Nosferat.
- Are you my father? "Cried a bitter tear.
"You're my seed unholy daughter, yes.
- What am I? "Strongly embraced the small skull, as if he could give warmth of his chest with that gesture. "You Moroaică
.
- And what does that mean?
"That is our night. Arise, Moroaică, give me your hand, and conquer the night. Sophia
rose from the ground, dropping the skull to the hole to be his eternal rest. He approached the figure, and took the cold hand with long fingers that tended. Then he remembered for the first time how to fly, and the soil off your feet. At the end was where it should be, under the protection of silvery moon and surrounded by the cold breath of the night.
"Soon the armies of the East, crosses and crescents alike massacred the revolution," said Nosferat -. Will be time for vermin and scavengers, there will be blood and meat for all, will be a great feast.
"Yes," Sophia - I can see it, father.
And so delicious looking meal left them.
Part of the anthology "Pumpkins in the Storage: Burials "
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Cidp Medical Famous People
was in April and June 2008
Lacan Day IPA in Cordoba: Saturday April 5, 2008
Hours: 9.30 am to 14.00 pm.
Location: Museum of Fine Arts Evita
Ferreyra Palace Address: Bv. Chacabuco esq. Av Hipolito Irigoyen -
Ferreyra Palace Address: Bv. Chacabuco esq. Av Hipolito Irigoyen -
Córdoba
Room: Auditorium
Difference Between Escort And Strippers
APde BA - Buenos Aires Psychoanalytic Association Conference
"Lacan in IPA:
form, time , reasons for a return "
" Effects of teaching Lacan in psychoanalysis
transmission and training of analysts, "
27 and June 28
Colleagues:
We want to inform the final program of the conference to be held in Buenos Aires Psychoanalytic Association day 27 and June 28, 2008.
work on "Consequences of Lacan's teaching in the transmission of psychoanalysis and the training of analysts," a device for open discussion workshops, both theoretical and clinical material, which was good acceptance and performance in the activity last year. Also add two panels, one of members and other candidates, for considering the various characteristics which has gained Lacan's teaching in our institutions. The publication contains the papers of the panels and quotations to be used as triggers for discussion in the theoretical workshops will be available to those registered as of Friday June 13 in front of APdeBA.
Programme: Friday 27
16.30 hs. Opening Days
16.45 hs. to 18.15 hrs. Panel candidates: Ms. Claudia Lara
(APC)
Ms. Cecilia Moia (APA)
Ms. Laura Vazquez (APdeB.A.)
Coordination: Ms. Valeria Corbetta (APdeB.A.)
18.15 to 18.45 hs. Coffee Break
18.45 hs. to 20.15 hrs. Panel members: Mr. Mariano
Horenstein (APC) Dr. José Milmaniene
(APA)
Dr. Daniel Rodriguez (APdeB.A.)
Coordination: Dr. Carlos Barredo (APdeB.A.)
Saturday 28
9.15 hs. to 10.45 hrs. Workshops theorists:
1) Analysis and Institutions: What relationship? Ms. Alicia Killner
Coordinator (APA)
2) Analysis of the analyst: teaching? Dr. Oscar Paulucci
Coordinator (PAC) 3) Supervision: stories and writing.
Coordinator Dr. Alberto Cabral (APA)
4) Reading and transmission.
Coordinator Dr. Charles Basch (APA)
10.45 hs. to 11.15 hrs. Coffee Break
11.15 am. to 12.45 hrs. Clinical Workshops
(work on clinical accounts of four workshops, with various materials)
Workshop 1) Hostess Ms. Maria Laura Trotta (APA)
Coordinator Dr. Isabel Dujovne (APA) Workshop
2) Presenter Ms. Adela Costs Antola (APdeBA)
Coordinator Dr. Emilio Roca (APCordoba)
Workshop 3) Presenter Jorge Cermak (Testimony) Dr. Miguel Leivi
Coordinator (APdeBA) Workshop
4) Presenter Dr. John Chiappero (APCordoba)
Coordinator Dr. Leonardo Peskin (APA)
Registration: Treasury
APdeBA (Mauri 1850), Monday to Friday from 9.30 to 14. hs.
or credit card through the website www.apdeba.org .
When deciding upon registration material will be delivered to the panel presentations and texts to be discussed at the workshops Theoretical
Fees: Professional Argentine
$ 110 Members $ 110 IPA IPA
Candidates and Alumni $ 60
foreign professionals U $ S 60 graduate students
$ 60 Students: no tariffs
cordially greet you and look forward to your participation. Dr. Carlos Barredopor
Organising Committee
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Average Price Or A Pint In Krakow
The Old Tree
winner Story Circle of Bards IV"
black twisted tree and dry, as if the fire had licked the bark until blackened with soot, but no fire had hit him forest. In the clearing in the growing had decided to withdraw all other plants, shrubs, ferns and brambles did not even dare to bury their roots in the same clear, rocky land where the tree grew. The lush green oaks was a note in the melody of tune, with its skeletal limbs and low they barely deigned to move against the wind. Both altered the nature of the course, that even the sky seemed the deep blue of the summer on his glass, but rather a sepia tinged bloody that bedeviled the mood and animals and insects away from there.
The first time I got to the course was still young enough to believe in legends, and I thought I saw a tree that was cursed by a demon that was determined to imbue evil ugliness. In my childish mind, was once a beautiful tree so that he could raise in their roots to the first Dryad who saw the world had long, since the human being pulling iron from the soil and it has produced weapons to harm the tale. He kept
I invented the story with the demon stalking the woods, because the demons are able to smell certain things men have already forgotten how they smell. The devil is closer to the tree, attracted by its scent of magic, and following a primitive instinct, try to snatch their arms at the tender Dryad of green hair. Happen then a battle in neighboring trees could still be read if someone cut off their trunks, and knew how to understand the language of rings, in that battle launched the tree branches laden with ripe and juicy, as if his arms were treated against the devil. More agile than the old tree, the demon dodge attacks, and finally reach the Dryad asleep. Succumbing to the temptation of such beauty, the devil would deposit a warm kiss on the lips of the Dryad, full of sin and vice, and later sequestering far, far away. Thus, the tree, old and tired, at the sadness of his loss, would wither and dry up, until it turned into a sack of wooden bones.
Before that ancient tree, a few days later, with a resolution that only eight years can be, promised that his daughter would recover. Carrying a broken branch as a sword, knelt at his feet, believing even hear his blessing in the language of trees, how only be heard when the wind moves among the branches.
For many weeks what others seemed a game had become my most important mission: looking for traces of the demon hard (and more than once mistook for those leaving the goats), to find his hideout and rescue the Dryad small. He dreamed of returning victorious to his father, and in return, maybe get a kiss from the little creature. That summer I spent long hours spent in this quest, until exhaustion and boredom made me forget.
Years later I returned to that forest, and become an unbelieving teenager, I felt ashamed have tried to find a Dryad armed with a broken branch and hopefully plant a kiss. I looked back, with eyes that were believed to adults, their branches dry and black, and its gnarled roots sinking into a land they had claimed for them, and no one else. I felt the power of that tree, old, dry and twisted between fresh oak, and to the discomfort of knowing more powerful than I at that time that I believed the most powerful men, left the course at full speed with my dignity torn asunder.
Time, which continues to walk, led me to many forests of cement and steel, and find love in sporadic human females, when a waning moon night I found myself longing for the Dryad who had stopped looking. I did my best to get back to that forest, and discovered with horror that he had decided its commercial logging. Would be wiped out by the metal teeth of so many trees wise and kind, and especially the mighty tree he had known, and whose daughter had fallen in love and still have eight years. As a final farewell, and the lack of solutions that winter as an adult I stood in the clearing of the old tree, and knelt before him, begging forgiveness for abandoning the search.
returned the child in all of us born in me, and grabbed the narrow waist of the tree with my arms, seeking comfort from his wisdom. Begged her face bark for its history, and watered their base with my salty tears.
All night was spent outside, in a continuous half sleep and hold the bark of the tree. When the day I woke up, his cold breath, his whole body bruised and sore, and a head full of burning and painful screams. I could not remember, at that moment, where I was, until I noticed the wrinkles of the tree scratching my hands and my cheek, and memories suddenly fell on my head. A bird-like shadow was stirred out of my field of vision, and to the strangeness of another living being dared to lay their eyes on that tree, I looked up curiously.
was not any bird that perched in its branches, but a sheet of yellow paper that fluttered black paws pinned to the tree. I knew it was important, even without knowing its contents, so I got up as I could, and clung to a crack in my fingers whiners. When I got my hands I could see it was written: a beautiful and ancient calligraphy graced with your paragraphs all a veneer. I can only transcribe what he said, they are not my words they must tell their story.
"For too long this light was green and beautiful, and here I knew love. Saw fit to give me five years of his lips on mine, her hands between my fingers, her tempting body and her voice my eyes my ears. I lived rent-old, which were meager but sufficient, and meanwhile I was doing the art of writing, passion for living and none of mine liked. Save it. She was muse and reading for my stories and poems. After those five years he gave me, I snatched the disease, coughing scarlet, and left me alone with my poems, my stories, no one to read and could inspire. I decided then die myself, in that clearly met so many joys, and rested there day and night, without food or water, until my body full grief and anxiety was dry and dark under the inclement weather. And that body resected by a lack of love and grief, was born just a dry tree, which began with its roots all life around him and stole the color that covered the sky. Many years ago, a clean-looking boy, who also knew of stories and poems like me, gave me a new story for my existence, and woke up again in the wooden body. Since you owe this second life I have, you will have to deliver all that is really mine: if you happen to survive until spring, I promise that for every branch of mine posted a new story, and in those Auditors found the child once were, and perhaps lead you to the Dryad who loved to just eight years. "
Unfortunately there is no romance in these times, and that January was down the entire forest, including the tree that once was a poet. Perhaps he now thinks that I read and missed every opportunity to find my Dryad, but wrong. It was just impossible to find during the years that I stopped searching, but the words of that old poet with me now, and I remember that he who does not seek, can never find. Let
winner Story Circle of Bards IV"
black twisted tree and dry, as if the fire had licked the bark until blackened with soot, but no fire had hit him forest. In the clearing in the growing had decided to withdraw all other plants, shrubs, ferns and brambles did not even dare to bury their roots in the same clear, rocky land where the tree grew. The lush green oaks was a note in the melody of tune, with its skeletal limbs and low they barely deigned to move against the wind. Both altered the nature of the course, that even the sky seemed the deep blue of the summer on his glass, but rather a sepia tinged bloody that bedeviled the mood and animals and insects away from there.
The first time I got to the course was still young enough to believe in legends, and I thought I saw a tree that was cursed by a demon that was determined to imbue evil ugliness. In my childish mind, was once a beautiful tree so that he could raise in their roots to the first Dryad who saw the world had long, since the human being pulling iron from the soil and it has produced weapons to harm the tale. He kept
I invented the story with the demon stalking the woods, because the demons are able to smell certain things men have already forgotten how they smell. The devil is closer to the tree, attracted by its scent of magic, and following a primitive instinct, try to snatch their arms at the tender Dryad of green hair. Happen then a battle in neighboring trees could still be read if someone cut off their trunks, and knew how to understand the language of rings, in that battle launched the tree branches laden with ripe and juicy, as if his arms were treated against the devil. More agile than the old tree, the demon dodge attacks, and finally reach the Dryad asleep. Succumbing to the temptation of such beauty, the devil would deposit a warm kiss on the lips of the Dryad, full of sin and vice, and later sequestering far, far away. Thus, the tree, old and tired, at the sadness of his loss, would wither and dry up, until it turned into a sack of wooden bones.
Before that ancient tree, a few days later, with a resolution that only eight years can be, promised that his daughter would recover. Carrying a broken branch as a sword, knelt at his feet, believing even hear his blessing in the language of trees, how only be heard when the wind moves among the branches.
For many weeks what others seemed a game had become my most important mission: looking for traces of the demon hard (and more than once mistook for those leaving the goats), to find his hideout and rescue the Dryad small. He dreamed of returning victorious to his father, and in return, maybe get a kiss from the little creature. That summer I spent long hours spent in this quest, until exhaustion and boredom made me forget.
Years later I returned to that forest, and become an unbelieving teenager, I felt ashamed have tried to find a Dryad armed with a broken branch and hopefully plant a kiss. I looked back, with eyes that were believed to adults, their branches dry and black, and its gnarled roots sinking into a land they had claimed for them, and no one else. I felt the power of that tree, old, dry and twisted between fresh oak, and to the discomfort of knowing more powerful than I at that time that I believed the most powerful men, left the course at full speed with my dignity torn asunder.
Time, which continues to walk, led me to many forests of cement and steel, and find love in sporadic human females, when a waning moon night I found myself longing for the Dryad who had stopped looking. I did my best to get back to that forest, and discovered with horror that he had decided its commercial logging. Would be wiped out by the metal teeth of so many trees wise and kind, and especially the mighty tree he had known, and whose daughter had fallen in love and still have eight years. As a final farewell, and the lack of solutions that winter as an adult I stood in the clearing of the old tree, and knelt before him, begging forgiveness for abandoning the search.
returned the child in all of us born in me, and grabbed the narrow waist of the tree with my arms, seeking comfort from his wisdom. Begged her face bark for its history, and watered their base with my salty tears.
All night was spent outside, in a continuous half sleep and hold the bark of the tree. When the day I woke up, his cold breath, his whole body bruised and sore, and a head full of burning and painful screams. I could not remember, at that moment, where I was, until I noticed the wrinkles of the tree scratching my hands and my cheek, and memories suddenly fell on my head. A bird-like shadow was stirred out of my field of vision, and to the strangeness of another living being dared to lay their eyes on that tree, I looked up curiously.
was not any bird that perched in its branches, but a sheet of yellow paper that fluttered black paws pinned to the tree. I knew it was important, even without knowing its contents, so I got up as I could, and clung to a crack in my fingers whiners. When I got my hands I could see it was written: a beautiful and ancient calligraphy graced with your paragraphs all a veneer. I can only transcribe what he said, they are not my words they must tell their story.
"For too long this light was green and beautiful, and here I knew love. Saw fit to give me five years of his lips on mine, her hands between my fingers, her tempting body and her voice my eyes my ears. I lived rent-old, which were meager but sufficient, and meanwhile I was doing the art of writing, passion for living and none of mine liked. Save it. She was muse and reading for my stories and poems. After those five years he gave me, I snatched the disease, coughing scarlet, and left me alone with my poems, my stories, no one to read and could inspire. I decided then die myself, in that clearly met so many joys, and rested there day and night, without food or water, until my body full grief and anxiety was dry and dark under the inclement weather. And that body resected by a lack of love and grief, was born just a dry tree, which began with its roots all life around him and stole the color that covered the sky. Many years ago, a clean-looking boy, who also knew of stories and poems like me, gave me a new story for my existence, and woke up again in the wooden body. Since you owe this second life I have, you will have to deliver all that is really mine: if you happen to survive until spring, I promise that for every branch of mine posted a new story, and in those Auditors found the child once were, and perhaps lead you to the Dryad who loved to just eight years. "
Unfortunately there is no romance in these times, and that January was down the entire forest, including the tree that once was a poet. Perhaps he now thinks that I read and missed every opportunity to find my Dryad, but wrong. It was just impossible to find during the years that I stopped searching, but the words of that old poet with me now, and I remember that he who does not seek, can never find. Let
Friday, September 12, 2008
Lot Cervical Mucus After Ovulation
The bottle of rum
here, waiter, leave the bottle
not withdraw it, which is a nice company
In label me a beautiful woman smiles
And with its sweet taste my tongue loose.
amber rum
This brings back bad memories, however
Of some nights I knew were also were toasted caramel
loving arms
thirsty lips that pulled me right.
of their language I understand only knew your name
In our eyes universal language spoke
His hands taught me the pleasure of being human.
Those nights were completed long ago
I stole my money, but nobody is surprised
If you still miss those lips that I loved.
-Thanks to Crysagon, for choosing the title.
not withdraw it, which is a nice company
In label me a beautiful woman smiles
And with its sweet taste my tongue loose.
amber rum
This brings back bad memories, however
Of some nights I knew were also were toasted caramel
loving arms
thirsty lips that pulled me right.
of their language I understand only knew your name
In our eyes universal language spoke
His hands taught me the pleasure of being human.
Those nights were completed long ago
I stole my money, but nobody is surprised
If you still miss those lips that I loved.
-Thanks to Crysagon, for choosing the title.
Breaking
Friday, September 5, 2008
Watch Aubrey Miles Xerex Movie Free
So Be
the last string that separates me from you
Melt centuries
stand between us forever banish the sadness of your smiles
And the nostalgia of your hugs
Dar new fruits to the dead tree and bury the dead
past with new hopes
Cheers to burn in the ashes of a flame
That so many tears had off then
Mudar rarefaction of the faces and shoulders
uncomfortable
By weight they must bear
of years lost in cold darkness
Open eyes again, without any veil translucent membranes
Peel
that deform the world and render it sterile
impregnate the future with golden dreams Shouting
the Storm that faces us
Taming the Sea furious with our hands folded
stand up on the autumn wind
dress and feel the tears of heaven to bathe our faces
Finding lost keys
to open your heart to mine and vice versa
merge into an amalgam of aromas
Quenching the thirst of our parched lips rest
Finally, one
In the land of dreams and Metaphor
What are yours and mine heritage
And dream again , together, to not wake up.
the last string that separates me from you
Melt centuries
stand between us forever banish the sadness of your smiles
And the nostalgia of your hugs
Dar new fruits to the dead tree and bury the dead
past with new hopes
Cheers to burn in the ashes of a flame
That so many tears had off then
Mudar rarefaction of the faces and shoulders
uncomfortable
By weight they must bear
of years lost in cold darkness
Open eyes again, without any veil translucent membranes
Peel
that deform the world and render it sterile
impregnate the future with golden dreams Shouting
the Storm that faces us
Taming the Sea furious with our hands folded
stand up on the autumn wind
dress and feel the tears of heaven to bathe our faces
Finding lost keys
to open your heart to mine and vice versa
merge into an amalgam of aromas
Quenching the thirst of our parched lips rest
Finally, one
In the land of dreams and Metaphor
What are yours and mine heritage
And dream again , together, to not wake up.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Stomach Flu 2010 Burping
South Ossetia
Among the injured concrete rubble, broken off flakes
creasing asphalt runs
death metal and exploding in flames
scarlet and crimson.
puppets puppets puppets move
steel wires covered with gunpowder in offices
isolated from any cry
silver pens that have signed it.
war games, games of conquest,
flies and vultures preying on
pawns while kings and queens, and bishops and rooks
in isolated offices signed by cries
[silver feather.
Meanwhile, a world of hot packs
covered with fine hands
sensitive ears and though they cry the children and mothers and women
they are isolated in their remote offices.
And while the ink runs full of good words
backslapping and light reprimands
blood is running in the streets
wounded and cleft asphalt cement.
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