Friday, April 30, 2010

Can A Guy Get Genital Acne

A hidden touch

While we remember the children's games, the word "hidden" has much more to say if you pay attention and if we tend to pick three feet the cat, what makes us discover his whiskers Buddhist.
Since that day when I was listening to the conversation between two friends and one of them desperately looking for his passport. "I missed it," said his companion. Hearing this, the other was furious and shouted: "No I lost it, just do not know where." At the time I had to laugh because the contradiction seemed comical, but then I thought I was quiet and that little phrase was one of the wisest I had heard in a long time. "I lost not only do not know where." As if by magic, a few days later, I came to mind the most remote and erased memories of my childhood.
I had, in particular between the ages of three and seven years, almost compulsive habit of hiding, what was in revolution to all my family who spent hours on tenterhooks. Trying to find even in the most unlikely places imginables, as in the basement where I do not ever come, but bombs fell on the fear that I get those sticky cobwebs in the dark. In no way would have chosen an area as horrible to spend time in silence and without moving. My favorite places were the ones who allowed me to observe that I looked like crazy and watch the show in comfort from my stash. I never had hidden so far as to no longer be able to hear, because much of the game was listening to their dialogue or foolish those famous singing litanies without tiring. Beginning with the most popular: "Lost Again" and continued with threats: "When you find it, you'll see", after the anger expressed some hope: "This comedy is not going to last much longer" or "This is not will be repeated. "
Meanwhile, I was squats behind the tablecloth and had succeeded, if he wanted, to touch each shoe sole thickness, or the tops of shoes like frogs jumping in a mud puddle crazy. If I covered the tablecloth, chose a dusty cushions piled in a pyramid in the corner of two furniture and felt how they spent all around me, so dangerously close to the sweat beading my brow as did the rain against the large window the terrace. I had to make sure I was not lost, but I do hide.
Over the years, my tastes were defined and felt increasingly satisfied with my hideouts. Was more complete my joy when I learned to keep the secret until the last moment, until the latent anger became a miracle in a shared joy. It was necessary to wait, despite the many bad times they had to live for my disappearance, they were happy to be at last, and the ultimate victory was that I did not charge the least fault. The blame lay on so hopeless that they could not find me. Much better than a miracle without explanation, it was as a stunt. In Eastern and Russian novels, this idea has no translation. The feat for the success of a story is to catch the reader's astonishment, something like the Arabian Nights soon, or a night without the details of the color of cherry orchards, but without missing a single surprise. This is to hide and not get lost.
In the almost thirty years, I had a relapse quite understandable. Had decided to leave Europe for good and move to America. I did not receive any support from those who took leave of me with indifference. The America I expected because I did not know anyone there, there was lost before departure. It seemed that both sides were betting against me. I felt I had to hide again to observe from a site with good vision and, above all, find a hiding place would be comfortable because a lot of time sitting. I chose to learn unknown deviation. Then, just before I left, I used a new strategy to mislead anyone: I lost the plane on purpose. I stayed in the waiting room with my ticket and my two suitcases, away in body and soul of the people I believed in America. I was away, but still very close, too close, it was only a matter of latitude. The most joyful moment of the trip was when I knew I believed in the other side of the ocean and I was in the same places as always, my best friends imagine me in a Boeing and I was sleeping in a hotel room two blocks from home. Without meaning to, just for that old habit, and I think I hid alone.
many times I found myself without a place to rest, even in my own house so I prepared to survive in peace in the rest of the planet. I got lost many planes and trains to reach out and comfort to my time in hiding. There is no contradiction, is given a space against which always imposes random encounters. You have the strength to go against expectations and still be welcome.
remember when I was a key, those keys that are used and are careful, the gate or the windowless studio, I mean those keys that are not easily lost. It is one of the best acting roles. I loved to hide as indispensable key. When I was tired of running into the tissue still full of lipstick, shook a little keychain and made a metallic sound unmistakable: here I am, my god! And I met with great joy: some were about to kiss me, others danced with me and made me jump in the air, either abruptly or jerking me threw me on the grass. They put me in a welcoming, friendly and safe, where I felt loved and even indispensable. Another role that I recommend to hide the portfolio is very similar to the key, but even more exciting, and also the last cigarette, but this script is much more tiring so desperate. Involved as a preservative hide me in trouble, but it was interesting, it's a role that can provide long-term reputation. The moments were rough and poorly paid when I hid as birthday cake, phone call, a bouquet of flowers or thank you letter. I took risks and followed provoked high drama: I learned that these caches have fatal consequences and not worth it, ends a long neglected, discovered too late.
In this intriguing work, the role of search should not be underestimated, is the luminous part of the script, which never tires, acting with honesty because it is convinced that there is the object of his desire. Know that the treasures are not lost, only live incognito on some island, on a wall in a locked box oixidada, perhaps very close, obscured by the dust under the bed, in dens or caves, in the shelter. The seeker need not see or feel his presence, never stop having faith in their reality.
Don Quixote is the search for excellence. Never saw him be afraid of the ongoing struggle or her wildest dreams one another, or ridicule. This conviction, born of the need to find the desired thing, makes us missionaries of a single cause: to find and be in one place. Leads us to be part of the thing, so integrated, that the passage between the search and discovery is minimal and, then, no one knows exactly what lies to whom, much less why it does or if not ago.
The water spreads and still alive in the air, the fire is waiting in the veins of wood, burning earth burning after scratching nails layers of frozen snow. Nothing is lost, the basic law of physics that we live. We become, we disguise ourselves, we hide. This implies that all at the same time continue to seek a place where someone will find us on time. We are that we have lost, just do not know where we are. Sometimes this "not knowing where" life can be extended until old age, is what has happened to me. Since I bought my little plot in the cemetery of Montmartre and have asked not to put any name, but the phrase Just do not know where I am, without crosses and angels, let alone pigeons, because they are gregarious, flying a good time here and there and return to palomaria. The pigeons are never lost, even messengers: they and their owners always know where they are.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Scholl Shoes Outlet In Malaysia

When making the word communist

Both views, with his hundred and eighty degrees of amplitude, flow through the fluid space of the room and the hallway to stop in the impenetrable vertical lines die in the ceiling. On the walls, drawing the door openings, the frames are still. The door at the back of the room is extended to its hinges, iron butterfly sleeping on the wood. A piece of kitchen size door, unfinished metal figures: mutilated cupboards, a refrigerator halved. The eyes rotate, rebounding from a table at the little picture of child with sheep, to be driven to another spot in the room. There, they sink to the wall of the hallway where the eye is scattered and is introduced briefly in the cracks of the wall-sex. Wood can be seen five and a half steps that seem already well trodden. Her eyelids fall and seems to switch off the light in slow motion. Now you only see one hundred eighty degrees of darkness, with some minor bursts of light mixed with red and green colors somewhat opaque. For him, doors, windows, kitchen, hall, lines, tables, butterflies, mutilation, lamb, stairs, sexes, for her, however, all this still exists. But on the other side of their eyes in the darkness beyond his. Only then realizes she has a foot on his lap and his hand on that foot. Do not want to open the eyes: it is better to have them suspended. The only touch and imagination, of course. Our silence was not anything special, a situation a bit out of the ordinary, simple to explain through our quiet nervousness. The house no noise was extraordinary and unique in the sense not wonderful. The explanation was that ordinarily has sounds of children, street, parents and ourselves as we speak. Despite of these circumstances as normal, we felt a little strange and somewhat unknown. As we sat on the couch, at first, she had both feet on my legs, but then there was only one left. The other left it down along with the entire leg with the tip almost touching the ground. Hanging leg seemed an element that was not hers, independent leg, lazy, hung from a chair. We forget that leg inert had nothing to do with us, while in the air in the other leg we noticed a full solidarity. I felt his little weight, could see the clothes that enveloped: a shoe with a small hole in the heel, hole that showed the sock until mid shin. The suede shoe was a bit cold, but the time I had my hand around her was enough to warm up. The heat had broken through the skin, and my girl, gladly, had closed his eyes to enjoy the energy that seeped beyond the sock.
When slipped my hand up the back, I met the bare heel of the shoe, but clothed in stockings. Feeling that the fingers had reached that recess, she was startled wanting to remove the foot, showing sincere shame. The hand held him using a little force, since the resistance of the foot was normal in such situations. A I particularly liked this disturbance because it needed a touch of modesty, perhaps if there had been the magic of the moment reaction would have collapsed like the other foot. Then I realized I did not wear just one sock, had two. The other was smaller and showed his soft yellow color between the holes formed by the tissue off. It was time for breathing and steal the last drops of modesty. In a moment of rage, his hand strap unbuttoned brightly. With finesse was removing the shoe to the foot was girt with just your socks. Behind the material, the fingers were a movement; could be to blame something, or simply taste. Now, the hand was before the foot with their undergarments. It seemed to be a bit helpless, why he woke up in the hand certain hunger, until a tremor arrhythmic invaded. Hand, his fingers nervously caress chose the two mounds that were the ankle seemed to go hand bones were both startled, it was hinted that there was expansion, which began to breathe. The fingers are dragged through the curve of the instep, as sliding in the snow, up to the other fingers. Rozándolos be entertained a bit and then followed by the foot and stopped at turn back: the heel. Here, not only involved the fingers, but even the palm of your hand. Was covered all the corners of that part. The thumb is strong and looked flushed. Without doubt, was in full disorder.
foot already thought of nothing more than shaking his hand, sink into the delicate situation. For its part, the hand, a somewhat sharp turn, reached the beginning of the sock and was taken away with modesty. As we descended, the shin was being discovered and between brown vellitos could see the glow of their own cleaning. The right hand was a little startled to see the faint yellow sock did not appear, but at last, when the foot was stripped of the outer sock, Finally came the dress was not really another faint yellow sock but a little soft yellow sock air leaving the skin that gives back to the calf. The sock barely blushing mound to cover the ankle. Or hand or foot landed knew where the bulky sock, showed that it was no longer of interest and were now decidedly in another case. At this stage of events happen fast. Unconscious, you might say, the shock has been dissipated into space and is replaced by the gentle rhythm of the strokes. The little finger
rogue seemed very unlike the index, taking a martial air. Was clear that it was contradictory and fingers that somehow, at times when they were not united, they could not even see. For some time his hand touched every corner of the foot, passing on almost silk fabric in his fingers, then was quickly exalted while the foot is moved in almost suggestive contortions. Hand, chaired by the ring, which had been the most active of all but silent, was introduced under the minicalcetín to strip at the foot of a last stand. The sun rose, and became intertwined with tears in her nails. So there was no blush, the defense had been broken and the roughness of the hand was gone.
With narrowing light and emotion ran wouldst ease in the naked foot and hand. The fingers of both were penetrated, rubbing up the cry and cry until the last. Later
noises began to come, things were back to take his life geometry. In the hall there was a clang of doors, the family returned from the cold. She, with eyes blinded by the lightning, came to dress his foot awkwardly while he hid in his hand deep in his pockets. When the family entered the room, the two began to be accomplices forever.

Friday, April 16, 2010

American Outlook On Weight



My previous article focused on the issue of how the followers of Marx and Engels misunderstood the proposals and Friedrich Karl about creating a party of the community or communities. I would mention in passing that the word "communist" sounded for the vast majority of people in the world, the transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth as a monstrous shadow that would embrace (in 2 ways: in its darkness disappear or fires.) Yet, in Mexico in the middle of the century was still a ghost, while the Communist Party of Mexico (PC), funded by the Kremlin, had to be secret but its effectiveness was questionable too.
remember at the age of 23 years yo hippie dress (Grenada to mid-back, Huatla necklaces, sandals, pants with fabric hood slang, colorful floral shirts and apart from my coats of peace and love and a marijuana leaf or the sign of the Black Panters), was also a communist. Rightly so while visiting my grandmother Clara Luz communist hippie told me, that is, the grandmother was not so stupid.
But Grandma and the family as a whole did not get into me while my manner of dress was widespread, and the language which, like hippies, we were creating: what wave, shawls, colorful little camera that Pacheco, stop a buzzer, Bach (the latter one piece of a tap), blood sausage (speck), churro, skating, cool, way back, Pason, cellulose (paper tube containing marijuana too tight), there we ferrules, Pacha, stop the three, chubidubi (cigarette in hand-forged pot with a sheet called rice paper), the strip by Your Mother Insurgentes agents, make me stop, we will drop the gloves, and so forth. A language of which were too few expressions, perhaps the most representative is "what's up" that even the mothers used.
When I attended my Spartacism Circle of Integral Studies was that this "jargon" does not flow in the meetings, perhaps using freely between militants who also used marijuana and LSD, and usually we gathered at the home of Groucho, his pseudonym, being my Traveler, where we put us to the dam and watched films of the Marx Brothers or we read poems of Garcia Lorca , Hernandez, Salinas, and, of course, many other, our hero was Cortázar.
Groucho and I were inseparable and in attending meetings of Congress where more than 60 militants, were relentlessly ironic and satirical. For example, there was a circle that had adopted pseudonyms in order Mexican and had a fellow who called himself Quetzal, his skin was whitish, his eye fixed object, it was impossible to see you face to face and Groucho and I dubbed "The Quetzi", a nickname that referred to the whiteness of her skin as panela cheese. Moreover, as the cheese, never look. If there was a circle that we hated was that of the Circle Tlaxcaltecas and I was accused of using marijuana and, according to them, had, while drunk, tried to run over an old lady, which earned me 6 months suspension to vote both in the Central Circle I was the representative of the mine, as well as in Congress. The leader of the Circle Nahuatl was so stoner like me was Enrique Gonzalez Jr., son of Henry Gozalez Red, one of our leaders. Integral Spartacism
was called because, as José Revueltas ex-PC member, he, along with others, broke away and formed the Communist Spartacus League, which it Revueltas was expelled and, in another fragmentation, appeared Spartacism Integral, of course pro-Chinese (Mao Tse Tung) and Ki Mil-Sungnista. Detested, of course, the CPSU.