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Thursday, November 22, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
How Do I Charge My Laptop In Europe
Tomorrow, my love
N. Infova
November 12, 2004 
.
Inje, the spoil of my career, chest out again to kiss sunsets and show-subtly, of course, how frail I am, what I'm puny ...
And wonders of the modern world oh brother, are illusions that a little too on-time are becoming flesh, and see what they do! Bacteria are becoming carnivorous meat, turn my insides and fuck with my brain cells to make me feel incompetent, weak, subversive of myself and cowardly.
No, no, no. There is no loss whatsoever, nor book to read or a booklet.
I am here, as I always do, to expect that those clusters that roam the halls of power is just one grape: the sweetest, colorful and inedible grapes. Fruit that looks, touches, but not tested. I came to her to drink some day that I bring to my table or the legs of my bed, he ... but not today, not today.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow everything, then anything is possible, nothing stops me, everything is highly probable, I laugh and then yawn, I, and then Tues I look FUTURIT so hard that is to come, always come, I run at his heels but never stop reaching. I move from here to there but never passing by now because the now past-present twists my guts and eating my nerves and my nerves I eat slowly. I saw it coming and that was today, she was and is, yes it is, but wine will be in my cup just the day after tomorrow.
Inje, I've seen naked, covered in statistics, mathematics is ... yes, our life is cold, calculating mathematical calculations and I cold peace rob me, but I stretched the glory. Oh, my dear ... you'll be mine. Some day, some other, later, sure then why I can not now, not ready, do you think now, don? I lost my sandals ... am sure ... or the weekend.
But there is something great and overly celestial firmly keeps me even thinking about next spring, "is hardly the figure walking the halls of the fuckultad abandoned as soon as the baby starts to melt in its own beauty, I can not do anything more than to nail in those torture timing for its passage in front of my nose. And here I whispered again: if you continue to crucify me that way, I will not be ever. Oh, Inje ... Boludez
But what exactly this phrase comes from as boluda source: Tomorrow never dies (someone please tell me that was not invented by the director of Bond). Never dies, tomorrow is there, always waiting to be crossed, but running as we walk on his heels. Tomorrow never ages, never dies. Tomorrow I'm living my past laughs watching and wither. But today, wicked woman! Bella, only in waist and soul of the party souvenir of this moment, cruel woman! Walking through my mouth smiling in my legs and plays, from time to time, my stomach tickle of-touch-you-do-ta-ra. More than that, never mind: a baby ... Today ... from here and with eyes that are just waiting to see the step that will give the next evening.
Inje, Strauss, Meliovetta. They are all my sons, and his mother is waiting at the door.
And wonders of the modern world oh brother, are illusions that a little too on-time are becoming flesh, and see what they do! Bacteria are becoming carnivorous meat, turn my insides and fuck with my brain cells to make me feel incompetent, weak, subversive of myself and cowardly.
No, no, no. There is no loss whatsoever, nor book to read or a booklet.
I am here, as I always do, to expect that those clusters that roam the halls of power is just one grape: the sweetest, colorful and inedible grapes. Fruit that looks, touches, but not tested. I came to her to drink some day that I bring to my table or the legs of my bed, he ... but not today, not today.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow everything, then anything is possible, nothing stops me, everything is highly probable, I laugh and then yawn, I, and then Tues I look FUTURIT so hard that is to come, always come, I run at his heels but never stop reaching. I move from here to there but never passing by now because the now past-present twists my guts and eating my nerves and my nerves I eat slowly. I saw it coming and that was today, she was and is, yes it is, but wine will be in my cup just the day after tomorrow.
Inje, I've seen naked, covered in statistics, mathematics is ... yes, our life is cold, calculating mathematical calculations and I cold peace rob me, but I stretched the glory. Oh, my dear ... you'll be mine. Some day, some other, later, sure then why I can not now, not ready, do you think now, don? I lost my sandals ... am sure ... or the weekend.
But there is something great and overly celestial firmly keeps me even thinking about next spring, "is hardly the figure walking the halls of the fuckultad abandoned as soon as the baby starts to melt in its own beauty, I can not do anything more than to nail in those torture timing for its passage in front of my nose. And here I whispered again: if you continue to crucify me that way, I will not be ever. Oh, Inje ... Boludez
But what exactly this phrase comes from as boluda source: Tomorrow never dies (someone please tell me that was not invented by the director of Bond). Never dies, tomorrow is there, always waiting to be crossed, but running as we walk on his heels. Tomorrow never ages, never dies. Tomorrow I'm living my past laughs watching and wither. But today, wicked woman! Bella, only in waist and soul of the party souvenir of this moment, cruel woman! Walking through my mouth smiling in my legs and plays, from time to time, my stomach tickle of-touch-you-do-ta-ra. More than that, never mind: a baby ... Today ... from here and with eyes that are just waiting to see the step that will give the next evening.
Inje, Strauss, Meliovetta. They are all my sons, and his mother is waiting at the door.
N. Infova
November 12, 2004
What's The Price Of The Movies
is the last time I say, maybe ... Considerations
.
hundred times yelled at the monitor screen that we do not defeat death would crush of digital promises that it would not come until a time ninety-nine send in touch rifle your hair, as cries of heroic struggle against the inevitable harbinger of early spectral decay.
Ninety-nine times and luster dims the best wallpapers for your face, and my last breath, while one hundred of the fist on top, covered your eyes forever, and nothing was seen, ever, ever again.
... and seeing nothing, not being, to be but is not, finally hit his head on the ceiling and my ironic stars lit up the back: he was lost, floating in a strange, lazy, and as I was absent from carried me high. I suffered for a moment, barely, fleeting passing of the world and life dedicated to keys and a small photo. I felt my little by little, I dilated my path and seas covering my smile, because they saw how great was the accomplishment, and the strength of my voice scream promised a hundred if not a thousand times more, if every hundred would mean loud deaths and tickets to the absence, the withdrawal of all but a bright place with those stars of glory, they had given me life, now I spectrum, by definition in contact with my dearest ghosts across the screen. 
.
hundred times yelled at the monitor screen that we do not defeat death would crush of digital promises that it would not come until a time ninety-nine send in touch rifle your hair, as cries of heroic struggle against the inevitable harbinger of early spectral decay.
Ninety-nine times and luster dims the best wallpapers for your face, and my last breath, while one hundred of the fist on top, covered your eyes forever, and nothing was seen, ever, ever again.
... and seeing nothing, not being, to be but is not, finally hit his head on the ceiling and my ironic stars lit up the back: he was lost, floating in a strange, lazy, and as I was absent from carried me high. I suffered for a moment, barely, fleeting passing of the world and life dedicated to keys and a small photo. I felt my little by little, I dilated my path and seas covering my smile, because they saw how great was the accomplishment, and the strength of my voice scream promised a hundred if not a thousand times more, if every hundred would mean loud deaths and tickets to the absence, the withdrawal of all but a bright place with those stars of glory, they had given me life, now I spectrum, by definition in contact with my dearest ghosts across the screen.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Famous Deborah Sampson Quotes
Saturday night, under the tutelage of Don Norton
and necessary Dear colleagues:
is true that the roadblocks have been hard to kick them, and that despite this, I have still the toes of the feet were badly swollen and painful. It is true that asphalt-the only way you can call wherever you leave this body, has not been any makeup for my mug, which is still burning as Argentinazo good arm. It is true that the shell that puts a life is not proof of anything he has experienced before. It is certainly true that the speed of trains that drive this road has left me more than naked ...
Hence, and a pair of sides is that the time to do crazy things like Don Norton falls back to the table.
As you know, BarreCultura SA, the company that had sent them to make hats with the name of this blog (and they were very nice eh, I had already ordered one), seeing the strength of our loyal fans, seeing the excitement expressed in a read-let me-what-I-want, when they realize that did not have enough fingers or hands count (and not fueled by use of the feet), well, threatened with tempting offers, very, very mad bidders to N. Infova sign. Until a puppy cocker put on the list! (Unfortunately). But there were all to give encouragement in a cry: Firm, Infova, sign, follow on with it! Bueh
And between them and NGOs SalvaLocos campaign I had created such confusion, not knowing if I grab the handles and pulling the company invite a beer that these kids, or if you bet big smiles and keep adding to this space, thinking a little further to fall one day at the office of these guys (those of BarreCultura) and provide a hostile take over your company in exchange for a couple of old manuscripts.
Finally, there are some comments that I have ground the soul ... and so many around that do not even read these pages ... I wish I had them all here with me for sharing with others.
And the latter has given me an idea. Idea that I will not forward and turns to surprise. But I'll give a clue:
This blog is going to go to hell, haha. I mean that will change enough. The more comment
any post, in any way (no "I do not comment xq not know what to say), like it or not, good or bad, whatever, I'm going to help a new project.
A new project of an old project. One old man who takes a new form. This blog is two years: Time to give it life. And it also depends on who enters and read.
On the other hand, old job back now project as well. I'm talking about the big book that I published last year (that I made like 20 copies, ha). Will blog again. Let's see what cool ... I'll post the URL as soon as you have.
So good, I'll be here for anyone who fails sleep at night. Here is forever, not because of me, but to Blogger, this place that I wish it were you that mine. In these hidden items, because I always wrote on lined sheets in this Word inevitable, because few times I wrote on paper, this time falling gently on my skin, because the day has given me no reason to say anything, as always live to tell it better, but not like night life, even if they know others so very difficult at times, so as to return to greet Don Norton and let the magic continue giving birth, and the sauce needles in recompense watch, I caught the music, I unwrap and cover for me neo-nudity my chords, lyrics and a good scream like Serj Tankian, what type, for some god ... what!
So, I look forward with you ... or do not expect to follow.
to victory!
Yours, N.
Infova 
and necessary Dear colleagues:
is true that the roadblocks have been hard to kick them, and that despite this, I have still the toes of the feet were badly swollen and painful. It is true that asphalt-the only way you can call wherever you leave this body, has not been any makeup for my mug, which is still burning as Argentinazo good arm. It is true that the shell that puts a life is not proof of anything he has experienced before. It is certainly true that the speed of trains that drive this road has left me more than naked ...
Hence, and a pair of sides is that the time to do crazy things like Don Norton falls back to the table.
As you know, BarreCultura SA, the company that had sent them to make hats with the name of this blog (and they were very nice eh, I had already ordered one), seeing the strength of our loyal fans, seeing the excitement expressed in a read-let me-what-I-want, when they realize that did not have enough fingers or hands count (and not fueled by use of the feet), well, threatened with tempting offers, very, very mad bidders to N. Infova sign. Until a puppy cocker put on the list! (Unfortunately). But there were all to give encouragement in a cry: Firm, Infova, sign, follow on with it! Bueh
And between them and NGOs SalvaLocos campaign I had created such confusion, not knowing if I grab the handles and pulling the company invite a beer that these kids, or if you bet big smiles and keep adding to this space, thinking a little further to fall one day at the office of these guys (those of BarreCultura) and provide a hostile take over your company in exchange for a couple of old manuscripts.
Finally, there are some comments that I have ground the soul ... and so many around that do not even read these pages ... I wish I had them all here with me for sharing with others.
And the latter has given me an idea. Idea that I will not forward and turns to surprise. But I'll give a clue:
This blog is going to go to hell, haha. I mean that will change enough. The more comment
any post, in any way (no "I do not comment xq not know what to say), like it or not, good or bad, whatever, I'm going to help a new project.
A new project of an old project. One old man who takes a new form. This blog is two years: Time to give it life. And it also depends on who enters and read.
On the other hand, old job back now project as well. I'm talking about the big book that I published last year (that I made like 20 copies, ha). Will blog again. Let's see what cool ... I'll post the URL as soon as you have.
So good, I'll be here for anyone who fails sleep at night. Here is forever, not because of me, but to Blogger, this place that I wish it were you that mine. In these hidden items, because I always wrote on lined sheets in this Word inevitable, because few times I wrote on paper, this time falling gently on my skin, because the day has given me no reason to say anything, as always live to tell it better, but not like night life, even if they know others so very difficult at times, so as to return to greet Don Norton and let the magic continue giving birth, and the sauce needles in recompense watch, I caught the music, I unwrap and cover for me neo-nudity my chords, lyrics and a good scream like Serj Tankian, what type, for some god ... what!
So, I look forward with you ... or do not expect to follow.
to victory!
Yours, N.
Infova
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Where To Find A Rare Credit In Poptropica
Friday Saturday Sunday
Do You Know That You Need Somebody, Do not You Know That You Need Someone
Everybody Need Somebody! You're not the only one! You're not the only one!
Ja! But ha! Most ironic of all nights. Why four, che? Because there was the rubiedad milhoja cake awaited as in all my parts, because there it was, because there is-ta-ba! Ie was. Not anymore.
is, bed, story, dreams, miracles, all, ever.
A harrrr mosura.
To give you an idea: this is me and supremely bloated balls.
I love them all.
treason for a kiss!
(psss ... liar above) 
Do You Know That You Need Somebody, Do not You Know That You Need Someone
Everybody Need Somebody! You're not the only one! You're not the only one!
Ja! But ha! Most ironic of all nights. Why four, che? Because there was the rubiedad milhoja cake awaited as in all my parts, because there it was, because there is-ta-ba! Ie was. Not anymore.
is, bed, story, dreams, miracles, all, ever.
A harrrr mosura.
To give you an idea: this is me and supremely bloated balls.
I love them all.
treason for a kiss!
(psss ... liar above)
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Hans Steam Cleaner Stores Sold In
Oh ... oh, oh. What continues Friday night. What a waste, what a bear's ... Stuck
of femininity, comprised one hundred twenty percent for perfumes and not random. Unattainable that Buenavista away, fool, on the other. Feel me at all, austere and tits gale outside, dessert in the end, disenchanting serrano, soul mate, musicón inbound and outbound.
They ate the bar bites!
my life wrote on napkins! Sitting
waited the gall ...
smiled frequently Sitting ...
Liquide to the moments of drinks with chervecha.
spent the brunette and said nothing. She was wrapped in charisma adventurous, in that go far to leave. He spent the brunette young woman and said nothing, and waved it to do, but went and dragged the tables and chairs, lazy and poor. And with his hand pointed to the front drew signs to outdo his life (mine attacked because I knew him), and humble the crazy left the room, went and shook my hand, and looked but sought my hand, and continued Unmatched crazy at night, and promised her ground me black hair, like a promise to shake your wishes batucada blacks: a beast, what else could dub, a beast ... what else I could criticize. People who
was little, murga that greeted singing, down, fade to black for murga InfoV to the wiles of Infova s \u200b\u200bdim, the little shit will with someone. Pouf Pa (!-¡) renegade Affection! Toss the butt out the window. I'm with him until he calms the truth. I'm leaving ... thinking if I should return to your eyes, your eyes and you know last quarter ...
Your eyes. Remember your body overnight. Your hair tangling my blood. You all, all, all. Among those who drag tables and chairs, among the furrows left by the move, including obscure disco lights, among them I looked and you were right in the corner mean beauty, as the words were not said or wrong, as in TV to get you and keep you busy, to find you and tell you that on Friday it had killed punches, which is better and we were going to kill us elsewhere, to beat snout to snout, sex with love sex and love goes out.
So ephemeral are the loves of these nights, until it is time to re-count ...
So-so, so alone ...
Sun Tan-tan-do
Friday, November 9, 2007
Roxy Store In Ann Arbor
ohhh, what a damn Thursday night .... What a night
the motherfucker!
Oh your god ... Same walls which surround me in my dreams!
who bore him ... What marks dawn trite in my name!
If the sun will again ... What sarcastic silence calls me the word!
One day she gave birth to the dark ... How useless adventure bite your lips! Bring you
wounds me what I leave your beautiful charm! And you
where I do not ... Why not me feel crap after far not coming, one hopes Thistle everyone, not mine ... there.
the motherfucker!
Oh your god ... Same walls which surround me in my dreams!
who bore him ... What marks dawn trite in my name!
If the sun will again ... What sarcastic silence calls me the word!
One day she gave birth to the dark ... How useless adventure bite your lips! Bring you
wounds me what I leave your beautiful charm! And you
where I do not ... Why not me feel crap after far not coming, one hopes Thistle everyone, not mine ... there.
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