Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Alprazolam Butal-apap-325-caff

Roberto Vecchioni, the storyteller's Travels

Flack, Flack but .... as you've got the lot, Flack .. But do not tell you anything? Comedians
so, one of the most beautiful songs of Roberto Vecchioni. A great, great storyteller, as he calls himself. For me, the faithful companion of my whole life, from childhood with Barbapapa, up to date with his latest album of songs, story-telling indeed. Speaking of
Vecchioni is not easy. Much has been written and said about him. It could be said of his songs, his huge discography , ranging from children's songs (Berbapapà) Festivalbar (which I won by a woman) in Sanremo (where he wrote songs for Anna Oxa), Club Tenco. Quote the most beautiful? It would, at least for me, an entire encyclopedia: From Light to San Siro, Strangelove, Samarkand, in the love letters, songs and Stork, Milady, El bandolero tired, Velasquez, for an older child, Song for Laura, etc. .., as far as repertoire ranging from the latest songs. Really impossible. To me, by far, the best song I think the sky upside down (which is also a site and a beautiful blog) . That, like many of her songs, about love. But Robert does so in a way that is never trivial, it becomes universal, to get a deep sense of our young men and women to be helpless in this world, dealing with the experiences of our lives, including sadness, irony, anger, commitment. Roberto
digs with the word in and of itself simultaneously to each of us, and navigating between pieces of daily life that become fairy tale or a dream, brings us to the reflection that has never inaction, telling us something that we have at hand but we can not, except when we immerse ourselves in his music, to touch.
I love it for four decades. Today I wrote him. Good
everything!

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Mount And Blade Hot Pink

Comicomix

Travels Comicomix. It's a little 'laugh, as the title. We started our journey on the web a few months, yet we have already made quite a journey. And, unexpectedly, we found ourselves in a lot more than we expected. For us it is important to anticipate pieces (long if possible) to street with the others, because there seems to have been really lost the sense of community, and we think this is one of the worst evils that afflict the daily reality, Italian and world. It 's so it began, almost as a joke, this journey ... the journey is something that can really make you change. As a (small) ship that faces the sea, with a goal but ready to change direction - not in the wind, but according to what you think right, "meeting and maybe sometimes placid po'noiosi trails, or storm terrible destroy you in (to us, as you know, it happened ...), times, bad times and good times ... But along with the other, sometimes clashing and sometimes not, we have always been "better". And standing still, locked in their homes, even welcoming, you can change the menu at most of Sunday. Or, better, now you can stay at home and yet also open to the world, thanks to this instrument will have its flaws but it is beautiful, the web.
close with Giorgio Gaber, unforgettable teacher, " There's just the way you can count on, the road is the only salvation .. there is only the desire and need to get out, to expose themselves in streets and squares ... Because the trial Universal does not pass through the houses, the houses where we hide ... We must return to the road, the road to know who we are ... "

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Hiv More Condition_symptoms

someone calls us up there

" Today's electronic world suggests that there may be sequences of messages that move from one physical media to another without losing their unique characteristics and appear to survive even algorithm as a pure immaterial at the moment when, abandoning support, have not yet been printed in another ... and who knows that death, rather than implosion, and explosion, and mold, somewhere between the vortices of the universe software (which others call soul) that we have developed living, also made up of memories and personal guilt and therefore irremediable suffering or a sense of peace and love. "This step, Umberto Eco, is based on the book who does not believe in what he believes , dialogue between the same Umberto Eco and Carlo Maria Martini. You can find it in a beautiful story of Dylan Dog , someone calls us up there , set in Wales and speaks of alleged extraterrestrial presence but, as you might guess, much more. The thesis of this cartoon is that there is a kind of secular afterlife - where, incidentally, also believed that Einstein said that energy does not die .. but turns - in short, a soul made of pulses radio. He talks about extraterrestrials, deities, love, brotherhood, but there are people who continue to be there. Well, we returned to the theme in mind, as well as for personal reasons you can imagine, because the pace of Eco also made us think about the importance of the track that each of us can leave if he wants, and now in old ways in new ways. For example, with the web, and then with one of his finest instruments, the blog. We will not say anything original, perhaps, but it seems that there are many intangible impulses from the confused and incessant exchange of information, news, thoughts that the blogosphere is constantly evolving offers every day. And that, that would seem to flow in Kaos, there is instead soul alert and alive, parallel, partly overlapping and partly not, that we cross every day, in our wandering lost on this dot in the universe. And that may leave a faint trail that winds between the confusion and we feel lost.
PS: We dedicate this post to Alexander, a great person and I hope it plays in some way. And Immanuel Kant forgive us if he can. Nin @
and Mister X, the authors of Scribble of Comicomix

Saturday, November 11, 2006

External Graphics Card Caddy

Maus

Western civilization ended in Auschwitz. And we are not there yet realized. Including myself, that I'm here sitting, to write and draw my daughter sleep upstairs, as if there was a world after Auschwitz (Art Spiegelman).
This sentence is the explanation of Maus, a comic novel that won the Pulitzer Prize in 1992, a work of rare and valuable, to understand the sense, the subtitle of the first part is: My father bleeds history. Maus is an autobiographical story, a fundamental work for those who love comics, but also for those who want to know the history and the Holocaust, told by his father Vladek author Spegelman Art. Spiegelman intersects the two planes of the story: the memory of the Holocaust, by Trant years after the Second World War, as told by an eyewitness to his son, comic book, and the unresolved relationship between the two, father and son. The two lives that compares the story (that of Vladek, an old Polish jew tired and resentful, indelibly marked by a holocaust in which she lost everything, including her adored son Richieu and that of Art, was born after the war and struggling with a father obsessed and difficult, full of quirks that only in narrative calms down) mark an unbridgeable generational boundary, the distance between two generations in the difficult (impossible?) building a relationship.
As to the masterpieces, nothing is obvious in mice. The characters, played by anthropomorphic animals in which Jews are mice, Germans are cats, Poles pigs, dogs, the Americans and the French frogs (an echo of "If This Is a Man" by Primo Levi?), the graphics choice, with characters from the essential features - at times, almost expressionless - because there is no need to dramatize the story, just the narration of facts, complex landscapes, full of lines, boundaries, barriers, making everything dark and sordid. Some make explicit reference to the German, others (myself among them) there are references to other famous comics, Krazy Kat by George Herriman and Robert Crumb's Fritz the Cat.
Maus contains memorable passages: one in which Jews (mice) make the mask from the Polish (pigs) to escape the raids, the closure of the first chapter, in which art moves away from the house crying, whispering to his father "Murderess" because he destroyed the diaries of his mother Anja, who committed suicide, and the end, touching the Ulimate sticker is a double tombstone to rest next to a ' other parents of the author, who signs on the side, like an epitaph, and the date of the BEGINNING of the end of his work. And again, the extraordinary passages of time between past and present, who deliberately Spiegelman does not show (no, we understand, very well, and then only from the past and future are looking to join). "Maus is a wonderful story, and does not let you take more," wrote Umberto Eco. How to blame him?
"The comic is a popular language which incorporates other, a vital and expressive language that speaks with her hands. A language that is exposed and even interpreted as a Talmudic text " (Art Spiegelman).

Tuesday, November 7, 2006

Bible Quotes For The Gym

Comicomix Genoa

We were in Genoa. We went there for an event that took place within the Science Festival . The event covered the Neuroblastoma, in front of which we are engaged, as everybody knows those who know us, alongside the Association and the Foundation for the Fight against Neuroblastoma . It 'was interesting and instructive. But this is what we speak. We speak of Genoa. Much has been said by people much more Brave of us to describe things, this wonderful city. We on our behalf, we found our Genova, Zena, not a hundred thousand ... Its sumptuous buildings of extraordinary beauty, Via Garibaldi UNESCO, its carrugi full of sounds, colors, smells and different humanity, Piazza De Ferrari always postcard Garibaldi promenade in elegant Nervi, Boccadasse, the Lantern, the people are silent, gruff and hearty. Genoa is a friend
introvert, who does not tell you anything but that does not betray you never know ... sinuous as the sea that bathes the street corners as elusive pieces of the puzzle that you can not finish. ..
There are many words to describe it, but would not suffice a thousand pages. Should be lived, lost among his people quiet, between the smells of basil, sea and incense stalls, eating one of the buns you can find on Sottoripa or Via Banchi, stopping to watch from the bench his placid sea, restless at the same time. A very special city, you always leave a trail of sadness in my heart when one of his deadly junctions resume hanging in the air, and you see - just for a moment, elusive as ever - and yours, with in the heart of vogliia Come back soon.