Progressivism And Existentialism

Alchemy

"Recipe:
An ancient castle, of which roughly half falling apart,
A long corridor with many doors, many of which should be secret,
Three dead bodies and bloody beautiful,
Three skeletons packed with care,
An old, and hanged with several stab wounds to the throat,
Thieves and bandits will
A sufficient amount of sighs or horrible noises muffled groans.
All these ingredients, well mixed and divided into three portions or volumes, which gives an excellent mixture of all those who do not have black blood can be taken by the bathroom before going to bed.
It will benefit the most sensitive. Probatum East. "

Anonymous - Formula to write a gothic novel in 1797 -

What scares me is the occult. The invisible eyes.
I have the strange habit of going out at night . In silence, one step after another, the darkness deep. The streets are my friends with thick walls, the lights out. I feel followed at times. I took a big coat, black. I always try to change around , but I realize I do the same old roads. I decided it was wise appointments in a notebook. Red. I like the effect of the red coat that slips by. Red in black. Via Roma, Corso Italy .. the writing is fast, the names of the streets outlined. I walk as I write. Sometimes I stop shooting and I look back. I think I see a little man who follows me. Her green eyes dazzle me and I have to cover. In recent days more and more strange coincidences happen to me. I am in front of small texts on alchemy that I thought not to possess. I opened a random page and read Homunculus. I immediately closed and I escaped. I do not remember where I put the book, I was sure to have left it on the table, but when I got back was gone.
Last night I dropped the red notebook. The track was wet and now has some horrible stains on the cover. When I opened it I felt faint. I saw that the street names were changed, but the writing is mine, and quickly sketched. I did not know the roads and do not know why but I think I threw the notebook.
I wanted to go home, but did not recognize the streets, I went to a street with lots of huge wooden doors into a corner until I saw the strange figure who seems to be a cross between a gnome and a fish. I followed him through the night, trying not to distract eyes from the blinding green that gave off that small and fast figure. As I labored to follow I saw a door opening and for a moment I peeked inside. Now I swear I did it! Illuminated by a single candle I saw people discussing deformed around a table. E 'was only a few seconds but I'm sure they were not normal people. In addition to having some strange hats that made me cringe is that .. the candle lit up the room even though it was only placed in the middle of the table, while they were in the shadows, blacks, not reflecting the light. Of black shadows. I am sure that one of them I have seen, heard footsteps behind me quick quick, a cold that I hounded her shoulders. I ran, losing sight of the homuncolus (but there really?) I was following, until it seemed to see a dimly lit corner. I hid myself, counting the beats of my heart and fumbled in his pocket to look for the notebook, remember to have it thrown out and I found only one sheet. This. I thought about writing here the last events of recent days, hoping that someone can find and save. The space is running out, on the other side of the paper I can see only a strange recipe .. looks very worn by time but I still can not decipher a piece that says: "Formula to write a gothic novel in 1797 .


---
maritozzi Thanks for the inspiration: *


With Cipi for illustration dell'homuncolus fantastic that you see above (and sifting through his good blog is really beautiful) =)

Head Injury And Vital Sign

past

"It slips in Golden afternoon
plan with the boat crew lazy;
an oar here, one there, no expertise
manovran her arm, in the mirage
to make some sense to our rational
zigzag large-scale "

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland-

So I take my rowing boat.
But sometimes I get lost in private thoughts, new universes.
I lose myself with my dreams sometimes do anneggare, throw them into the sea as punishment for treason.
Sometimes my side is a chest that looks like a coffin so is the weight that is dark in there. I hear that in the stormy nights you want me to sink and disappear forever. The sky turns black, the enemy, crushing me. Then comes the storm, and even if I try to be prepared is sometimes so strong that the risk of getting lost in all that sea, infinity. I'm afraid of the sea. The black sea, where you see nothing. Yet you talk, but talk of death. Talk about the past. Of things that I did not understand or realize too late, in the heart of wounds that still bleed.
Sometimes I would hide in some nook and cranny, but I discovered that mine is only a small boat, a paper boat abandoned on a small pond that goes without a goal, pulled from the wind.
When the sky is angry because I'm afraid I can not swim, but every time I'm about to fall, I see my trusty crew seem ready to reach out and save me from the jaws of sharks.
trusted crew Thanks to you a hearty laugh and a healthy bottle of rum.

Cinematic Orchestra - To Build A Homemusic Sheet

ZAN ZAN!


dear diary, because Diary gives the idea of \u200b\u200ba loser as I will call you Ernesto, who at least has a cool name;)
So .. Today I discovered that a person can claim to know if the Italian can write (without looking at the dictionary), although with the acute accent and they say (and write) rather than building construction. Then, if you do not know dear Ernesto conjugate verbs is the same. The barber, snaiesco mythical character, perhaps it would have been promoted, even though his typical sentence is: "... if alora draws ... that is, if the whole draws, I Alora ... would win. "It 'obvious that after 10 seconds has made the international goals and he has lost all the money.
Ernestuzzo Dear, today I also understood that the City spying on us. He decides our life and its decisions are insidacabili. The City has decided to spend his money to do a writing course with professionals. The course is free and that's cool. But it's Tuesday, and Tuesday is an unlucky day for the chestnut. Then as they were only 4 cores, the chestnut has thought to ask to move the date or time to participate. The answer was that the City Council on Tuesday asked to do so and we must all bow down and give thanks, even if Participants are only 4 and the final job will do the professional writer. Then Mr. Common is a great fool: disburses the money to do a course where at the end the final paper will do what they should teach writing. Genius right? disburses the money and not even going to teach, write, and we salute him.
the drunk was right when he said: "It made a world that you are no longer standing." [Cited]: D

Oh I forgot the title ... zan zan it is a tribute to his invention, and Cristina (she's not as Ernesto imaginary friend really exists) and should be used no more than an examination. The "zan zan" consists in leaving the courtroom after the crime (the rejection) and scream to the world ZAAAAAN ZAAAAAN with both hands to move. Today I passed the exam, I passed almost arguing about the split of the sentence and what does the word "archaic" ... I had a 27 to have written, I got 21. The verbs I asked them, but never mind, at the bottom, you know .. know how to speak Italian is useless, just know that "Sister" is an exception key = dell'apocope)

Brazulian Wax And Infection

could all go to the local zoo ...


"Life, do not talk of life .. .

people never ceases to amaze me.
Tonight (oibò) I spent an evening at the emergency room. I then discovered that there is a worst job of Snai: that is to be acceptance of an emergency!
Apart crazy parents who want to shelter children who have influence (which in the meantime spread germs to people on hold) the scene more "hilarious" was the lady splashed sicula! At 22 he wanted to force her daughter to admit it was not known if she was pregnant or not, no one knew what she was, but screaming on the great skill (if it is the peak) of the doctor who had examined her in the morning and that he was good because it was discharged. After minutes of screaming ape the poor man's acceptance found that the medical file on the computer did not contain the results of analysis of the morning nor the discharge sheet that had magically disappeared. Meanwhile, the lady insisted to go on the ward (do not you know) mixing senseless shouting threats. While this was happening, a crowd of people (family of 5 + 8 babies parents or similar) is catafiondata toward the exit, laughing as if they were left by the first of a comedy.
The faces of those who were waiting were these OO
It all ended with the lady who managed to get shelter and wandered through the hospital screaming that his rights, the man accepting that was vented with parents affected children (who have plagued all), the little family happy with the decision to spend a Saturday night and I alternate that with only two hours of waiting I managed to visit a doctor in case maritozzi: D
cool no? :

Illustration by Daniele Alfani .. sballottolava us as the train home. =)

Nothing goes as we would like. It 's so, we surrender to our smallness of being small. The fault is all we know of Copernicus and his theories. It was better not to know to be small, of being useless. Things are broken in my world, fix it sometimes, but not very good, are often so fragile that they break even. It 'an imperfect world, I know, I accept it and watch it fade, rot and rebuild again.
The world is subjective then. There are many worlds, many universes and many parallel realities.

Today I discovered that Terry Pratchett, one of my favorite writers found to be suffering from a rare form of Alzheimer's disease. Then it is unavoidable to think in the end, what you write, our smallness and fragility. He will leave us his dream, a dream written, a new universe, and I spit tiny universe can not do anything if you do not consider myself lucky to have known her world. This is the reality. The objective reality. And I can not even try to fix it.