Parental Rights Transfer Affidavit

in Durango two nuns look at the gross income

Ahora díganme cómo se llaman,
si no es mucha molestia hermanitas.
Una dijo: «Me llamo Sor Juana».
La otra dijo: «Me llamo ¡Sorpresa!».
Y se alzaron el hábito a un tiempo
y sacaron unas metralletas
y mataron a los federales
y se fueron en su camioneta.

Hasta que leí Trabajos del reino, de Yuri Herrera, yo apenas sabía algo de los narcocorridos. A través de las entrevistas y reseñas que leí sobre este autor mexicano conocí a Los Tigres del Norte . Ahora, en estos días, he terminado Hecho en México , de Lolita Bosch, donde además de encontrarme de nuevo con Los Tigres, he hallado otra perla del género: Grupo Exterminador. Desconozco a qué se debe esta incipiente mexicanización de mi vida (hace poco leí Dios es redondo, de Juan Villoro, y Damas chinas, de Mario Bellatín), pero me gusta.

Aquí va la letra completa del corrido.

•

Las dos monjas

Una troca salió de Durango
a las dos o tres de la mañana.

¡Viva México!

Una troca salio de Durango
a las dos o tres de la mañana.
Dos muchachas muy chulas llevaban
coca pura y también marihuana;
pero se disfrazaron de monjas
pa' poderlas llevar a Tijuana.

Los retenes de la carretera
a las monjas no las revisaban.
Tal vez era respeto al convento,
pero nunca se lo imaginaban...
two smugglers who were in their beards
drug passed.

official who was on duty at that inspection
Nogales,
apparently was not a believer
and then started asking
that "where they came from and what traivan"
said the head of the feds. Very serene

nuns answer:
"Let heading an orphanage,
and boxes that you see in the Troka
are some tea and milk powder for
pa 'the orphans.
And if you do not believe, then no way. "

said the leader of the federalist
"I'll do the routine check.
sisters I ask pardon, but
quiero a sacarme la espina...
Yo presiento que la leche en polvo
ya se les convirtió en cocaína».

Con un gesto de burla el agente
se arrimó y les dijo a las monjitas:
«Yo lo siento por los huerfanitos:
ya no van a tomar su lechita.

Ahora díganme cómo se llaman,
si no es mucha molestia hermanitas».
Una dijo: «Me llamo Sor Juana.
La otra dijo: «Me llamo ¡Sorpresa!».
Y se alzaron el hábito a un tiempo
y sacaron unas metralletas
y mataron a los federales
y se fueron en su camioneta.

En Durango se buscan dos monjas
que ya no han regresado al convento.
Y una cosa if they say to
that came with the shipment,
For there say they are very heavy
and live there in Sacramento.

De Durango
two nuns came to the two or three o'clock.

•

PD. I read this review Edmundo Paz Soldan on Jobs kingdom and "the role of art in the capitalist system governed by the values \u200b\u200bof drug trafficking." (Here is mine , more humble, with an interview I did with Yuri Herrera for protein . And here another interview, but RNE). Latest

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Recipes For Mini Tart Pans

Todoazen Collective is a diverse and multidisciplinary group that focuses its work in the field of narrative research. Participated in the task of writing this book JG, economist (stating gross annual income of 26,000 euros), IE, sociologist (stating gross annual income of 14,000 euros, and BC), writer (stating annual gross revenues of 9,500 euros). So begins

year nor did the Revolution of Collective Todoazen (Caballo de Troya, 2009).

Todoazen Collective - The year that the Revolution did not

No hay semana en que los humildes currantes nos vayamos a dormir sin llevarnos un soponcio salarial. Varían los actores y las cantidades, pero el final de las noticias que nos dan parece tan constante como la gravedad en la Ley de Newton : alguien muy listo gana, como mínimo, unas 9,81 veces lo que tú. Es decir, que tiene unas 10 vidas más para jugar a esto del mercado libre, y por tanto en caso de game over se queda con 9 en el tablero mientras tú ves desaparecer la tuya. Así funciona el dumping aplicado a las personas (también llamadas «recursos humanos», 'Human capital', 'people', 'workers', etc., as appropriate).

last few days, in the journal Public are erre que erre Dolores Cospedal that won a paste goose in 2008 for being the secretary of the Popular Party and in 2009 also increased his party 30 % salary. It seems we talk about € 240,000 and a pair of wages (as a senator and as secretary). Someone also said in June that his party was "the party of workers' . Look

the people say terrible things on TV for 4 pesetas, do not you tell a politician per 240,000 eurazos! Workers

me! Santiago and close Spain!

proletarian wage Oxymoron aside, the above, of course, is crazy. If machismo, if special laws against it, if others earn more than me, that if now veto the newspaper that fucks me, and so on. Be expected. Soon tell, if you have not already said, this is a replica of the PSOE as of José Bono (who does not need to tighten their belts and live so comfortably or more than her).

And so we, day after day, it is not the heritage of Cristina Garmendia, the SL Aznar Bottle & , or José Montilla Zapatero wins twice , and when there is a village mayor which € 9,000 monthly pocket money that the Treasury keeps the idiots like me.

As my father would say: "Everyone in a boat, and Siberia." (But not the Siberia-Gasteiz, no, to Siberia, Siberia!) Although I would rather do the social work may well develop a minimal sense of community. The father of a friend cares for terminally ill people and other works in the emergency room getting sick a couple of days a week. Both earn significantly less than those listed above and are more useful. Constantine

Bértolo, editor del libro del Colectivo Todoazen, suele recomendar una medida para solucionar esta clase de males. Es la misma que se han aplicado los autores de El año que tampoco hicimos la Revolución : que sea público cuánto gana cada quien. Es más: que en las empresas haya una hoja donde figure el sueldo de todos los empleados, desde el becario al gerente general. Ídem con quienes viven de dar conferencias o de formar opinión; junto al nombre del loro de turno, un cartelito que diga cuánto cobra por decir lo que está diciendo. Y, a ser posible, otro con su estado de cuenta bancario o la declaración de la renta. Así todos nos entederemos mejor y sabremos qué privilegios afraid of losing when we advocate this or that idea.

I see it. To me, when I want to rent an apartment, ask me to prove with numbers that you can trust my word. A bank guarantee of 6 months, a payroll or the last payment of VAT, the previous income ... Everything. So when I say "I pay the monthly fee, people will not trust and I rented one of the 15 houses that make up your estate. Thus, underline, they know from where I speak.

Well, I want the converse.

Some people go down the street and imagine everyone naked. The need to give a lecture and to avoid the nerves, imagine that the audience has a chicken on his head. Yo, desde hace un tiempo, cada vez que alguien me habla, lo primero que pienso es ¿cuánto gana? Y a continuación: ¿cuánto declarará de verdad ante Hacienda?

Desde que lo hago entiendo algo mejor el mundo en que vivimos.


PD 01. Esta entrada, Sociología hecha literatura , del blog de Caballo de Troya juraría que complementa bastante bien lo comentado anteriormente sobre su editor. El libro El año que tampoco hicimos la Revolución está disponible en varias páginas web. Imagino que los propios autores lo habrán liberado.

PD 02. Ahí va un subrayado de El año que tampoco hicimos la Revolución para reflexionar sobre esa ficción llamada «democracia», donde nos han vendido que quienes estamos en la parte de abajo de la pirámide de ingresos brutos decidimos algo en esta sociedad... ¿El qué?

El reparto de la tarta. Un 0,16 % de los contribuyentes españoles posee el 27,5 % de los depósitos del sistema bancario, según una estimación del BBVA a partir de datos del Ministerio de Hacienda de 2001. En euros contantes y sonantes, 53.000 personas sumaban depósitos declarados a Hacienda por valor de 111.600 millones de euros hace dos años y medio. La banca privada del BBVA, dirigida en exclusiva a clientes con un patrimonio neto superior a dos millones de euros, gestiona 7.040 millones de euros de 1.108 «grupos familiares», según datos del 30 de junio pasado que arrojan un crecimiento semestral de los depósitos del 11,5 % y unos depósitos medios por cliente de casi siete millones.

Tampoco está de más saber cuántos ricos hay en el país y cuánto declaramos ganar por término medio.

Últimas plumas

Humboldt February Weather California

Andrés Barba

Jorge Herralde tuvo ojo con Alberto Olmos (Segovia, 1975), Andrés Neuman (Buenos Aires, 1977) y Andrés Barba (Madrid, 1975). En 2010, más o menos una década después de que aquellos desconocidos veinteañeros saliesen finalistas del premio que convoca la editorial Anagrama, los tres parecen bien asentados en el panorama literario español. Cada uno a su manera, cada uno con su estilo. Los tres han sido elegidos por Granta hace poco como jóvenes autores representativos de la literatura en español.

En 1998 Alberto Olmos quedó finalista del Herralde con A bordo del naufragio, tras Roberto Bolaño y sus detectives salvajes. Al año siguiente Neuman sacó medalla de plata con Bariloche, tras Marcos Giralt Torrente, autor de París . Neuman repitió puesto en 2003 con Una vez Argentina, esta vez secundando a El pasado Alan Pauls. And Andrew Beard, meanwhile, was a finalist with Katia's sister in 2001 in an edition of the prize won with Alejandro Gándara Latest news from our world .

twenties may have a finalist list over the Herralde and I've jumped. No idea. Nor do I intend to prove a theory, only to note a curious fact that I had been thinking since a few months. More than anything because I know relatively well the work of Olmos and Neuman, who interviewed for protein, and that Beard had not read (and that he had wanted to test porn ceremony).

is a pragmatist, a month ago I searched the library and found some of it Katia's sister. I read in one go on a trip Madrid-Bilbao. Okay, I did not estupendísima novel, yet he read me the whole, I enjoyed several passages and made me think of something pretty fucked up at my age, what was I doing at 26 years while this guy was perpetrating a book in which mothers prostitutes can work, have a butcher boyfriend peaceful war to show that given a daughter who dances in a slum to Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls and another that lost innocence while trying to link Maine's a Mormon?

What was I doing? I imagine that many others: looking for work, spend my money on beer talking nonsense in bars, operated a grain of acne that have withstood the test of time ... Stuff. Meanwhile, Andrew Barba wrote passages like this in a monologue that is the grandmother of the novel:

your mother first, and now Katie. Then come thou, homely as you but I'm sure you also pick up because you would not believe those who really care about how pretty or how ugly you are, come and tell me "Grandma, I dance a striptease", you'll get as she put on her other day your sister when Here we were dancing, it seemed that he was trying to warm up to George, who is not a bad man but a man, silent and such, you need your mother, you will not get a lot of headaches or ask explanations, nor is easy to find that, with his shop and things, not handsome but who wants a handsome man, always giving the cute ending problems, the physicist has an air to your grandfather, broad shoulders, good gut, ass down, half bald, silent, better to be silent, your grandfather was quiet too, sometimes, it's funny but I hardly remember your grandfather, there are things that seem that the will always remember and forget, the worst thing is that even I forget embarrassed. Oh, Nuria, my child, forget them and when you realize that you forgot you spend a moment of shock, yes, scare, things that when you said you were living whatever happens I will not forget this, and suddenly I do not remember, remember you did not want to forget, remember that happened, but can not remember things, and not even know if you were guilty or not to forget, remember that it was good or painful, are still there but as when you wake from a sleep and know that was horrible but do not know what exactly, are you sure it was a nightmare but do not know what kind, who are you sleeping lately that you forget that I wake up tomorrow aquí, en vuestra casa, y no sabéis quién soy, “¿Quién es usted?”, dice tu madre. “¿Y esta vieja?”, dice Katia, y tú no dices nada, tú me miras así, como me estás mirando ahora, que no se sabe si eres tonta o te haces la tonta, si entiendes o no, y yo me voy hasta tu madre y le digo que me abrace, eso que a tu madre nunca le han gustado los mimos, no a Nuria, Nuria era distinta, y después me dais de comer, me dejáis ropa pero como se le deja ropa a una extraña que da lástima, que no tiene dónde caerse muerta, me decís “Cómase esto, póngase esto” como si no me conocierais de nada, y cuando se hace de noche me obligáis a marcharme, me decís “Puerta”, amablemente, sí, pero “Puerta”, me despierto y casi me da miedo cuando aparece tu madre, por eso no me tomo las pastillas que dijo el médico, no es que me olvide, es que estoy cambiando, en el balneario me lo dicen las chicas nuevas de la limpieza, me dicen “Está usted un poco rara últimamente”, pero no es que esté rara, es que cambio, no sólo cambian las personas de cuarenta años, o las de treinta, también se cambia después, se cambia distinto pero se cambia, de pronto hay cosas que te dejan de gustar, cosas que te habían gustado toda la vida te dejan de gustar, recuerdas cosas que parecen mentira, de hace muchísimos years and not know what you did yesterday, or even what you did this morning but when you were seven years a boy looked at you in school, Gustavo, was named Gustavo. (...)

downside of having 35 years and read books that others wrote to veintialgo existential is that puts you, like when you listen to a teenager talk about football that wins in one day what you doing in a month. Of course, the best of at least 35 years and find people your age that you like how you write is that silly feeling of returning to school and feel your classmate, not the author, who has read the text aloud . And that ... That's nice. Latest

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How To Clean Ear Bluetooth

Journal of an immigrant at the border

argument The Journal of an immigrant (1958) revolves around a young couple who migrates from Valladolid Valladolid Chile in the 60's. Lorenzo and Anita, twentysomething them, no need to spend in Spain, but it's encouraging them not native environment, so gray and dull it. In addition, she received a letter from his Uncle Giles, who lives in Santiago de Chile and encourages them to make the Americas. What is more, even offers to pay the passenger ship.

After the classic tug of war, Lorenzo asks for leave in her work as an usher at a school and travels with his girlfriend, pregnant, America. He and she are convinced that their story will be successful, the end of the day, people say that the other side of the Atlantic are expected to amass a fortune and that even domestic service will have. Or, in pure and to paraphrase a popular phrase that in America everyone dogs tied with sausages. In short, things that would not have Internet in the 60.

Besides parallels between English emigrants and immigrants then we received today, what interested me most of the book is the machismo oozing the relationship between Lorenzo and Anita. know how Delibes wanted to portray a relationship or simply se limitaba a construir una relación de pareja con la realidad que lo rodeaba... Lo desconozco. En cualquier caso deja entrever los usos y costumbres del momento.

En el diario que escribre sobre el viaje, Lorenzo deja clara una idea: su trabajo vale más que el de Anita. ¿Por qué? Porque es hombre. Y punto. Su trabajo como recadero, ascensorista o gerente de un ineficiente salón de limpiabotas vale más que el de Anita como peinadora. Ya se sabe: los hombres trabajan para mantener a la familia y las mujeres, para entretenerse y sacar un dinerillo con que cubrir sus gastos.

De que me levanté me mostró el alijo de perfumes de allá. Lo que yo la dije, que ojo, pero ella me dio en los morros con un mazo tickets. Fifteen thousand of the wing, said soon. You have to touch the nose! This chick does a basis of sympathy and a little taste, like I say, because we are on today nobody gives silver comb. Of course there is also the nails and the potions. With one thing and another wrong is that the Kid is not removed for living expenses. And after all, his stuff is just entertainment, because, all things considered, this can not be called hustle.

Anita visits the home of a few wealthy ladies and combs. Talented and diversified its business to a manicure, perfumes and other potions, so prosperous and after one week even considered opening a beauty salon your account. As often happens often among immigrants, women prosper faster and better than men. And, of course, for a macho earn less than their partner is an affront to his manhood. It is therefore time to hit the table with authority and patriarchal power demand.

I got a bad body and, as of tomorrow, I had a grab with the chick. The combing will bells and whistles, do not deny that I myself got together yesterday thirty tickets together, but there is the bus and you know that before God all the saints. So I planted it and she started calmly that it was not pod and if I prefer to be established is determined to do so. And said that neither jars, and she that what ton, who need hands to serve the parish and better paint well. Yet the temper I let go that it was his own as a hobby, but says very little for me to have my wife hustle, and put an establishment was as two quarters to the preacher and I have my pride and that there was nothing. The girl is atufó and I went with what stung me is that they thrive and I like the crab back, and I got angry and told him that eye, that there was wrong, but she insisted strongly that the uncle had said that was more capable than me and that was what made me angry, and I already got the jets from the basket and La Voce, second, that eye that as to compare the beat back a gloved hand that he would remember the date.

It is interesting to see how Lawrence works as a character in its masculinity crisis. How the questioning or loss of privileges of the emerging patriarchy want to set, take it out of their boxes several times throughout the novel. Anita never hits, but, as when parents are anguished because their children topple the authority they believed they had inherited from their grandparents, Lorenzo loses its site, references, part of their identity. And both lost their place in the New World in the end convinces Anita to return to Valladolid.

Of course, it lacks a final hurdle: take disappointment pues El Dorado no ha sido tal. Si algo resulta duro para un emigrante, no es perder las raíces o vivir alejado de la familia; lo peor es regresar a casa y que tu relato sea el de un fracaso. Es más: ¿cómo eludir las mentiras que habías contado para justificar que tú tenías razón al moverte, y no quienes prefirieron quedarse en el pueblo?

Te pones a ver y el hombre no es más que un animal de costumbres, que ni se diferencia de la perdiz, ni nada. Y si yo les tuviera bien puestos pegaría media vuelta, ¡march!, y si te he visto no me acuerdo. Pero, lo que pasa. Uno cogió la pichicharra de América y les ha ido a los amiguetes con el cuento, que si hay perdices como escombro, y que si uno live like a duke, and go now to say that there is for what and who you become because the blues will not let you stop and because you have nowhere to fall down dead. The FETEN is that Anita and I, I, and Anita, we have been a disappointment órdago.

The spiritual enrichment is fine, but again with one hand in front and behind there seems little reason to question the place that you had assigned in the productive mechanism. However, Lawrence has learned to cook beans everywhere and nowhere to pay for sleep. Neither America nor in Spain.

Of course, what remains unclear is whether Lawrence has learned to respect his girl. Seems to be left the reader is another moral. Also that those who thrive outside their country, as Anita in Chile, and it is usually because it works, sometimes even to live with someone who undervalues \u200b\u200btheir work and giving off steam like a gloved hand and then. More of an immigrant woman knows the situation in Spain, right? Grande

Delibes, allowing us to speak of this with books of 58. Latest

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Titanware Cookware Sale

I am of Indian blood. I am Latino, I am mestizo,
we are of all colors. And of all trades.
And if you count the centuries, even if it hurts
neighbor, we are Americans, we are
americanos que todititos los gringos.

Una joya la letra completa de esta canción de Los Tigres del Norte:

Ya me gritaron mil veces que me regrese a mi tierra,
porque aquí no quepo yo.
Quiero recordarle al gringo:
yo no crucé la frontera, la frontera me cruzó.
América nació libre... El hombre la dividió.

Y si no miente la Historia,
aquí se asentó en la gloria la poderosa nación:
entre guerreros valientes, indios de dos continentes, mezclados con español.
Y si a los siglos nos vamos: somos más americanos,
We are more American than the son of Anglo-Saxon.

no money We bought the Rio Bravo.
And we took from Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado.
also flew California and Nevada.
With Utah were not filled.
The state of Wyoming,
also robbed us

I am of Indian blood. I am Latino, I am mestizo,
we are of all colors. And of all trades.
And if you count the centuries, even if it hurts
neighbor, we are Americans, most Americans are
everything off the gringos.

PD. In Made in Mexico, Lolita Bosch, I read an additional stanza swear que no cantan aquí... Dice así:

Ellos pintaron la raya para que yo la brincara
y me llaman invasor. Es un error bien marcado:
nos quitaron 8 estados, ¿quién es aquí el invasor?
Soy extranjero en mi tierra
y no vengo a darles guerra:
soy hombre trabajador.

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Transitiong Hairstyyles

Tigers Money Changes Everything

Ella dijo: «Lo siento, cariño: te dejo;
encontré a alguien. Me espera fuera, en el coche».

Nena, dije, ¿cómo puedes hacerme esto?,
nos habíamos prometido amor eterno...

Ella dijo: «Bueno, lo sé; pero
cuando lo hicimos hubo algo
en lo que, en verdad,
no estábamos pensando:

el dinero.

El dinero lo cambia todo».

PD. Letra completa de Money changes everything, de Cyndi Lauper, por aquí . (Lo de arriba es una adaptación de estar por casa del inicio de la canción). Y por acá, una versión punki-ochentera a más no poder:

Últimas plumas

Ap Biology Lab Eight Hardy-weinberg Answers

Sex, freedom and nuns

—Madrecita —dijimos al final del día, al encontrar a la abadesa cosiendo in the study room, inexplicably lucid and calm to what had happened that day. Just thread the needle to sew the mourning, "why is sex a tickle?

The abbess held the air contained air. Stuck the needle into the cloth and began to stitch unanswered.

- And that tickle ... We asked then, has something to do with the dark abyss of freedom?

stopped sewing. We stared through his spectacles. Said

"Freedom, my girls, is also a tickle.

Sex, freedom and nuns. Behold the trio of arguments he has used Cristina Sanchez-Andrade to commit a splendid novel. A lyrical blow against bigotry and sexual repression, along a delightful narrative exercise that can meet the highest literary passions. A novel that should be on all the monasteries and other houses of closure in that wither so many women in this country.

In treads the earth no longer your king , the narrator rests on a peculiar "congregation of nuns." Specifically on a anonymous group of "twenty or nuns leaning out" that have their own way the fortunes of his life. Speak from that species anonymity because over time the harsh demands of convent have diluted their individual identity in a collective. Except for the abbess, which is always the abbess , all other Cenobites respond more to name nun than your own.

addition, all living with the consequences of this unhealthy belief that the sin nests after pleasure, especially if it is sexual. As usual, no inferiora questions the enlightened word superior until orgasm test honeys. The Marquise of Large RIBADAVIA and Jack, a financier and patron of the convent, has a son whose hobby is to climb the wall of the house of god and download semen of youth between the legs of the nuns. The religious mystic ecstasy of these have enough of the flesh, go.

The young Marquis is not a Casanova, according to his mother, it is simply a "john asaltaconventos." Also a vague and an eternal adolescent unable to take responsibility. The story of his life is that of a man who abuses her sex and social status to procure pleasure when he wants. As a good man, the maximum penalty which is subject is the anger of a mother warm. It is already known: a prank is a prank, any day you will marry and settle down. For male pleasure, even the wall of a convent is a limit.

However, the story of the female part of the story (the abbess, the nuns, the Marquise and Hilda, a young bride of hummingbird) is another. Very different. For them, raising the walls of society and the Church are impassable, and outwit is accompanied by a harsh punishment. The story of this congregation of voices whose identity has been diluted by the grace of the negation of all tingly is the discovery of pleasure. Also in that life exists outside the walls of social convention and demanding obedience who dominate you. Obey

is not thinking, floating in the delights of abandonment. Obey is easy: as simple as accumulating resentment against the person orders to be obeyed, so simple and natural as hate.

Far from being a novel about nuns and convents, treads the earth no longer your king can be read as an allegory of a certain generation of women. Especially those born and educated under the long shadow of Franco nacionalcatolicismo. After the impersonal narrator beat group recognizable female voices, for example, in the works of Carmen Martin Gaite. Those women whose hands, as suggested by a passage novel, were "frying crepes agile and clumsy for the love." In short, mothers, grandmothers and great grandmothers of many of us.

I mean, in Spain, para ser monja, hace 20 ó 30 años sólo hacía falta casarse.

Antes ya se sabe: ni educación ni juventud ni independencia económica o ideológica ni libertad sexual. La verdad era una y trina: Kinder, Küche, Kirchen , como se dice niños, cocina e iglesia en benedictino alemán .

Vuelvo a la novela. Vuelvo al asunto del relato sobre el placer. Y dejo a las monjas de intramuros para fijarme en un monja de extramuros, Hilda, que es quien habilita esa alegoría que comento. Hilda es una campesina que la marquesa hace pasar por noble con un único objetivo: casarla hummingbird with your child and make this abandon its addiction to frequent closure mysteries of faith in some religious habits. Through it, Sanchez-Andrade type female shows a family where there is:

Actually, the only one who knew the truth about Mrs. Hilda was the groom, because one day found no cap. It was just before the wedding, the time when she watched her fiance after the door to go as a kid to help with shaving, the time when he scratched his back and wore away the rough edges of the feet with pumice stone. The time when the Marquis acted as a doddering old man.

The time en que, muchas veces, la vida era el relato de una monja. Una monja tuerta que, subida en la última de las ollas amontonadas junto a la ventana del sobrado, nos iba dando cuenta de lo que pasaba por su ojo vivo.

Si Faulkner sintetizó su obra magna parafraseando a Shakespeare , «La vida es un cuento contado por un idiota, lleno de ruido y furia», Sánchez-Andrade parece hacer lo propio aquí con su novela: hay muchas mujeres cuya vida es el mero relato de una monja. Y no sólo eso, es el relato de una monja tuerta subida a la última de las ollas amontonadas junto a la ventana desde donde ve escaparse todos y cada uno de los vagones de un tranvía llamado deseo.

Quizá that is the model of "traditional family" that defends both cross monotheistic idiots full of sound and fury that espouse a one-eyed nuns, they asaltaconventos johns and they, with good hands for the crepes and awkward for pleasure. In the end it be true that the Apocalypse is approaching. Of course, while I get my summons to the Last Judgement, lay hands on another novel by Cristina Sanchez-Andrade I have at home: Lizards smell of grass. It is tickling ... Latest

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Denise Milani With Og Mudbone

CHRISTMAS TIME LOTTERY

La AMPA del Colegio San Félix pone a la venta Lotería de Navidad.

AMPA San Félix de Candás

Las participaciones serán de 3,00 €
con un donativo de 0,60 €

Happy Birthday Bubble Letters Color In

BADMINTON AND KARATE

El próximo lunes 8 de Noviembre comienzan las actividades de badminton y karate en el colegio. Los grupos y horarios son los siguientes .

BADMINTON : Monday and Wednesday from 16.00 to 17.00

KARATE: 3 groups.

Group 1: Students of 1 and 2 primary. Monday from 17:00 to 18:00 h
Group 2: Students in 3 of kindergarten and 1 st grade. Monday from 18:00 to 19:00

Group 3: Students from 2nd grade through 6th grade. Wednesday 18:00 to 19:00 hours.

Bon Voyage Poem Funny

underground Poetry

Juan Carlos Mestre

My father says to read the bar napkins. I would say that exaggerates a little man, but, well, in addition to freedom of religion, every human being is to be granted freedom of hyperbole. However, I recognize that there may be some truth in their exaggeration: I am one of the chips in such a suit, the poems read to stick to the sides of subway cars. East Juan Carlos Mestre I read a while ago on line 6, between the stations of Manuel Becerra and Planetary- Arganzuela .

At first, I have come to realize who the author, I have limited myself to taste dose surreal lyrical I found the door of the center, under the expected path of the gray line. And like all unexpected pleasure, I've tasted intensely. Now, at home and Google, with, I ordered my chaotic mental shelf: Mestre, among other things, who recites a poem in disk Amancio Prada I gave to my father, Writer is few years ago. Specifically, I remember the song "Anthem in the Bierzo valley." Solved the mystery, I can go to sleep peacefully. We'll see what new napkins tomorrow holds for me city.

PD. The remaining texts circulating in Madrid meter are here . Latest

feathers

Does Water Retention Go Away

God? God is round me

last week returned to the library an essay about football, God is round, John Villoro. I do not know much about it or attend floor Balompédica stages or literature, had fun with this book. What is more, I devoured 70 in 70 pages. When someone writes with enthusiasm and freshness about an issue that often dominates the me-me out most dedicated reader. In addition, capable as I have been cheering for Maeterlinck in its symbolism with flowers and bees, why would not grant a Villoro that football is a metaphor for the world?

(In The feast Petisme Angel says the same thing a woman's ass ... I mean, to each his own theme.)

I have yet to venture into the novels and stories of the Mexican author but from now I want to inject a dose more journalistic. Its excellent mix of literature and journalism is far, far away from that mediocre prose surrounding the English sports daily. It is also light years away from the ignorance of which tend to demonstrate many opinólogos patriotic radio and television. (Except most honorable exceptions such as Santi Segurola, Enric González, Gonzalo Suárez and another, given enough punishment the image they convey to us the JJ Santos, Manolo Lama and company). Hence, to meet God is round has reconciled me with that schoolyard game where many tried to emphasize more that the reviews of the EGB.

(None of my generation shone with the ball at his feet, but at least we took the game seriously, not like some millionaire professional ...)

While reading this book, and while writing these lines, " I realized that I keep my more and less with football. Lost interest after 21 years, and yet you come back lately to pay attention. (Before the World Cup, I mean, if not the cause-effect would be obvious.) So it may not take long to type another entry Balompédica for the blog. Among other reasons because I read a couple of months ago The son of footballer Coradin of Vega, which made me think a few things about the time of school.

Meanwhile transcribe a few paragraphs on Paul Gascoigne, one of the many players that support the thesis that defends Tolstoy Villoro: happiness does not produce good novels and good players. Or to put it more literally: "There is a secret law that requires that the champions have scratches." Without a tragic sense of life seems to be no glory. Maradona, Pele, the German or the actual Gascoigne are some examples cited by the Mexican writer.

copy of the passage below, I like the feel of paper on the fly. The author gives me to write and draw those street performers who portray you in 10 minutes. Also 3 or 4 strokes accurate enough to present a character. Ie the accuracy is the foundation upon which to build the expression. Every so often I meet someone who derided journalism and literature extols the mellifluous, verbose, pretentious sentence of subordinadísima and so long talking to think more deeply about the Big Questions of Life ... Writers like John Villoro guess they seem inconsequential. Instead, I consider them essential.

question of myopia.

My favorite hooligan

some ghosts in France 98 tread on the grass: Romario, Redondo, Juninho, Guardiola. In the list of absent notes the great British court jester, Paul Gascoigne, aka Gazza. England lost 2-1 to Romania in a match dominated by nostalgia for the bad guy.

Gascoigne is a beer drinker in his spare time is devoted to football. Its silhouette rosy cheeks ruddy and reveal a dean of the pubs. His statements feed the curiosity of the London tabloids and sorted into three categories: humorous, vindictive and stupid. When called to the selection, altering the rules of coexistence, put shampoo on the mug of tea and tanning sessions reserved for black players. Three photographs

short his career. The first is a rookie hazing: a defense squeezes her genitals and he howls in pain. In the second taste with impunity the glories of football: it's up to the buttock aide. In the third is a sad: cry for the elimination of England in Italia 90. These images are as popular as the song "Three lions on a shirt," composed for the Euro 96 and decades without laurels of England: "30 years of hurt never stopped me from dreaming ..."

Book Excerpt God is round, John Villoro (Anagram, 2006).

PD. Gascoigne's photo comes from the Mail Online . Latest

feathers