Florida Gators Birthday Poem

November issue

This is perhaps the best numbers of our blog. Tales powerful, sharp and at the same time with a veil of'ironia. The editors of the equator to the east extends the most sincere congratulations to the authors and warmly thank all those who have bombarded our e-mail accounts. Continue to do so, the blog is becoming one of the most important means to discover talent and provide an opportunity for everyone to let them find out. Thank you very much. Continue to write, to comment, vote and above all to read.

Greetings from the east of the equator.

Billy Bands Instructions

THE PRESS Massimiliano Colucci

It takes strength, I explained. As with many things in life. You learn to walk and not fall when the legs are strong enough. We learn to chew and swallow mouthfuls increasingly large and bitter. Only learn to sit and stay still when he has absolutely no desire. Yet this is strength.
Life is a huge harvest. Aspects of the fruit for months and only in one day, sweet swollen slit them under the warm rays that make the leaves shine frayed and the back of small glossy green spiders fleeing disturbed. Then the mill, the vats where the juice is fermented and boiling it breaks the head of the first breath, if you're not used to - but you know you never try fortigna greatest pleasure of intoxication that is mixed with the sweat and warmth of lazy 'Autumn at the door, as you penetrate into the skin numb. Finally, the press, the terrible and majestic press that impress me as much as a child, which squeeze the juice soaked in dark and bitter seeds and stems, and the taste of a life hidden secret that you can never fully understand .
The press is the crucial word: most of the must cloudy and ambiguous, and the laughter of children that follow each other under the domes of the vineyards. The iron bar that runs between your fingers, kidney and groan with every swing, the blisters begin to form, dry and formulaic "ta-tlak" that fills the air along with the thrill frothy that filters through the dense axes Wood, cola bubbling on the plate, sliding along the metal nozzle from the tank. The newest wine ... It 's always been my favorite. Perhaps because it ended a cycle, and gave his best, showing no signs of fatigue. Maybe because you were forced to produce the best of yourself. After that do nothing but throw pies skins tablets scratching chickens, and wait until November when the Cut branches watery sap, gray and silent in the afternoon to sniff past the fog.
It takes strength, I repeated. He wanted to try at all costs. I looked at her, smiling as it grew purple in the pull towards the cylindrical bar scraped by many hands. I helped her. Together create the sound that I loved so well remembered and was a kind of spell regenerated. Only there was no longer my grandfather, his land, my parents, uncles, and cousins, there was no one, apart from her, even the vines were cut and left to die because no one had more time to deal with it. It 's a shame that has come before in my life. It would be fun: I would have liked it to belong to this world of my youth, with his magic at the end of summer. Might have understood a lot about myself ...
Back home, stappai one of the bottles that we had given our friend. She had a vineyard enough to generously cover the needs of a year. The bottle was last year. Wine press, the last one. And 'one of the few who, like me, without understanding why, he always bottled separately.
poured the wine into a goblet. I looked at him. It was warm, dark and rubescente like blood. Glowing crystal, similar to an ancient stone. I breathed. The aroma load stunned, but goes deep, making its way slowly, slowly, es'insediava intact with all its strength from some part of the soul and memory.
She moved into the room. There was something that stirred me in the head, perhaps a memory, a thousand thoughts, a feeling unknown but important enough. I lifted the cup, and watched through that filter Ferrigno. I watched its soft shape and intoxicating moving swells of life and physicality. Immediately felt the desire to grow in me. I brought the cup to his mouth, and without taking his eyes off you drank it slowly, savoring every drop as if it were the last, listening to descend into the gorge, down to the stomach, and penetrate into the blood with warm and hot wave that dilated on the skin.
I got up. I went to her. I took it and pressed it, greedy. I kissed her. It takes strength in life and the life that flowed in the veins and the flesh was mine, and I wanted to. I like the press the last yearning wine grapes left. Perhaps this was the secret despair of that machine: a huge, voracious desire for life and drunkenness, not to feel the loneliness and absurdity of existence.
I kissed her. I returned the kiss. Her lips parted on mine. Broke off suddenly when he felt the pain I had caused, biting. Inadvertently, perhaps. Perhaps unintentionally, the bites to hurt you ... I moved her hand. A drop of blood slipped on the bend of the lip. I apologized. I went over and kissed her gently right on the wound. It was a drop of his life, his privacy, to slip inside. Dark, hot, dense and as a last rubescente wine. The same flavor.

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sociopath Roberto Saporito

I can not stand most people can not stand any more, humans give me a sort of existential hives, an itching in the blood. It 'also possible that I have become sociopathic or not, it is not me but they have become sociopathic, people, all of them have become sociopaths in my respect, you can not!
Way fast, and my footsteps echo on the cobbles of the street deserted, my leather soles pointy leather shoes of some inhabitant of some desert reptiles make my walk even more aggressive. Light emitting diodes
clock pharmacy mark the twenty-one hours and thirty-seven: are delayed by Time thirty-seven minutes of the meeting in writing to the publisher. And I'm never late.
brisk walk in the orange glow of street lamps of the old town, my shoes are aggressive knock knock knock. Crossing a girl who walks in, if possible, even more aggressive than me, his eyes traveling down, to understand the height of the tips of his boots high heel stiletto tic tic tic toc toc toc against mine. I am leaving behind Unrestricted a good aromatic, with citrus and honey and something else I do not recognize, but inviting and sensual.
I stop, look at the girl from behind, high and waving, from the pocket of my jacket and dark brown extract a packet of Gitanes. I opened the package, I extract a cigarette, I stuck it between his lips a bit 'cracked, take lighter, an old Ronson, on the other pocket and I light a cigarette. I put in my pocket and lighter package. Allotment.
So, I have sociopath or are they not important, the editorial meeting I would not go for nothing. These five meetings to decide which books to publish and what not not stand it any more: If I had my way I will not publish anything, I do not remember when was the last time I read a manuscript that was worth something: my sociopathy, if possible, is spreading to the books, or those who may become such, and their authors. And the other editors have questionable taste, no, questionable, Let's face it, they taste horrible, they do not understand a fucking emeritus of fiction, as Valeria that the other week I spent a huge manuscript (something like seven hundred pages) and tells me:
"This is the new Piperno,
" Why, one is not enough? "I asked myself.
"Come on, read it, and then tell me," said Valeria.
Well, 'I read it, all and the pages were settecentottantatre and settecentottantatre pages were unnecessary, a bad hole in a forest some dick (which I, in fact, forests even I do not give anything, it's just to say what they all say my fellow editor ecologists peace blah blah blah).
And tonight you should just decide whether or not to publish the hole in the forest, and since the decisions we take in the majority, and four others liked the book, I'm not going to the meeting: we going to do. And then the author is a friend or friend of a friend of George, one of the editors, one that can change the destiny of another Italian writer, turning a few court-clerk-accountant-gas station-baker-surgeon-architect- Hydraulic in writer.
Way increasingly sent toc toc toc puffing smoke from his nose like an old locomotive.
The other four editors are all writers (published, more or less), I do not, editors should not be writers, it is as if the priests were also sinners (I know, there are, but there should be no point) each should have its role, or do one thing or another they do, it's a bit 'as literary critics: the literary critics should not even be writers, should be forbidden to the critic to the writer, should you choose to be kind or here or there, not a foot in both camps, there should be laws, but laws really applied, with severe sanctions, corporal punishment, forced labor. Here is how it should be.
Way increasingly sent toc toc toc, telescoping front of the building where the headquarters of the publishing house that gives me something to eat. I do not stop and knock knock knock I hate being walked as if I had a really precise destination, as if you'll really get somewhere, as if there was someone who really can not wait to see me. But I do not want to see more none none none, without distinction.
Toc toc toc.

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WEDDING Cristina Musciacchio

"Guys I'm loving it. I want to marry me. His name is John Bo. " When Uncle Alfred, spoke drunk on the night of Christmas Eve these words, the mother had fainted, his father poured on his face the very expensive brunello that was in the glass, uncle Salvatore stood looking at him with open mouth full of food, cousin and cousin Maria Lucia, coming to a vote, they touched the crucifix and began to pray, the little Carletto shouted against a dirty word. Only Aunt Betty laughed and clapped her hands as always used to do when something unexpected happens in the family. That night the great estate
not witnessed the exchange of gifts, or to drink for celebration. The evening passed between the arguments of his grandfather and grandmother who were accused in the events of the ill-success of their only son. Uncles approached him curiously asked if he would start to dress women. The cousins \u200b\u200bwere pressing because a priest was called.
The week following the revelation, Uncle Bo Alfredo invited John and his family to the estate, to begin preparations for the wedding. His family is in fact limited to only brother.
's brother Bo was the most beautiful man in the world. Newbie there was no country, city, village, forest, mountain, valley, island, river, lake, wilderness, mountain, plain, desert that his eyes had not looked. Every community he met on the way received him kindly, and was in despair when you share. Her beauty allowed him to go anywhere. He had visited the hidden rooms of the ancient royal palaces, was put to current from the oracles unheard secrets of the universe, had participated in the sacred rites of remote mystery religions. Every night told a different story: when was the guest of a nomadic people of Asia a desert, which practiced communism as a total totally ignore the meaning of the adjective possessive my, or when he knew the people of an island the common ground where all men are slaves and women queens, or when he lived in a village in a tropical forest where there were no laws, no crime, but one for which it was punished by death: to do 50. After a week that Bo's brother was with us at the seals, all cousins, including Maria Lucia's cousin and cousin were pregnant. Among the preparations for the wedding and the preparations for the new birth, the family was as crazy. Old habits were abandoned to give way to high. Who until then had taken the bitter coffee, they started making sweet, who used to sleep on the right began to sleep on the left, who had been quietly became agitated, who had lived to become a religious believer, who had brazenly changed in modest , who was depressed was gay, who was talkative fell silent, who was quietly began to sing. Only Aunt Betty always seemed to continuously even clapped and laughed.
the day fixed for the wedding was also the day when the children were born. And the family did not know how to divide between church and hospital.
At the time of birth the doctors were horrified: the children laughed.

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MY NEPHEW Danilo Power

Darkness is the only option for many, and there, even at the cost of invention, you must find the light. I have always believed that the soul lies the true strength of men, and soul regardless of age. Sunday morning, like every weekend I accompanied my nephew to the park in front of the house. I would like to bring in the most beautiful places, but I'm old and tired. After all, he does not count for much beauty. My nephew Mark is blind from birth, good for him is what causes the emotions. Today is eleven, and see him there, he would like to put my coat on its own but can not, it hurts. He takes his staff posed by the door, greets everyone with a smile. Sometimes I wonder if he has consciousness that is always smiling. I've stopped doing it for years. It occurs to me that only a few are granted, I intend to smile, to children, to love before the inevitable pain of fools.
go down the street, cross the road and take the driveway. The park is small, ideal for children and unleash the dogs. Behind us, three large poplars separate us from the road, and two plum trees provide shade in a bench-lined the driveway that crosses the park. A hedge undressed the fenced area. We come here because it is convenient and safe. We just want to get some 'of the sun, and that is the same everywhere.
morning Mark is more cheerful than usual. All around, children's voices attract his attention, but he knows that will not go away from them, at least alone. It's amazing how conscientious. Then I pull all the forces contained in exile with his right arm, while with his left hand is waving the stick in front of him.
- Come on, let's grandfather, is already late.
- Slow down, you know that I can not run.
Should I be just me not being able to run. We stop in two lime trees in the middle a flower bed. Marco laying his stick against a tree and runs off chasing the voices of senior children. He has the smile of someone who sees a loved one after years of sincere joy in order to wait. The sun completes its efforts to flood the eyes, but Marco's eyelids are tightened. The darkness remains dark if light can not see, but the darkness becomes light if you know to see light. Mark has it, Mark has a force capable of changing the world around him. He pushes his legs facing each other chasing the other items, open mouth to breathe faster and get right before they all disappear and end. I stand looking at him leaning against a tree, my back hurts, I'm tired. I think of my nephew, to the fact probably undergoes another disappointment. Mark can not see when the race reaches its destination, but can it feel, rather than by the voices of children, but from their silence, spontaneous result in seeing a different person. The children fall silent at the sight of Mark, who comes forward with outstretched arms looking for someone, smiling, as love. I do not know if it will ever know the love for a woman, I do not know if there will never be a woman willing to love him. To stand by him must accept a number of circumstances, sacrifice, compromise with yourself.
Marco approaches a child, touching his face, asked him what it's called but the other does not respond, he asks that they are doing, but everyone is silent. Suddenly the child takes a step back and then running away from the others. Mark hears the sound of footsteps and voices which take away the joy of their games away from him, from different. Marco still tends his arms forward, but can not find anyone. Love is too often followed by despair.
- Grandpa.
has closed a sea of \u200b\u200btears in the throat.
- I'm here.
go toward him, he runs toward me, he stumbles on a step, falling, crying. He scratched his hands.
- Get up it's nothing, you're just a little 'dirty.
Mark gets up on its own without saying a word, blows on his hands, hugged me, sobbing.
- Why no wants to play with me.
- Why men are afraid of those who are different.
- It's not fair, however, all are different from me but I'm afraid of them mica.
What can I say?
- Because you're special. Come back home.
We walk to the lindens to get our things, but all of a sudden Marco stops and sits down to earth. He says he wants to play at least a bit 'before you go, says we can have fun without the other children. I do not know what to do, rest in silence. I realize that waiting for my reply, but I remain silent. He lowers his head, sighs, gets up and walks alone.
- Marco wait, do not run.
not listen to me and I understand that now my job is to entertain my nephew, I, I settant'otto years and I no longer laugh.
- Okay, inventiamoci a game.
Marco turns suddenly, smiles, runs towards me and grabs me by the sleeve. He says he wants to collect stones to throw into the fountain. Humor him and we come together under the lime trees. She explains the meaning of the game. I think I did not understand it very well, since that would fill the fountain with stones in order to let all the water. While talking to me touches my face, and I hear his soft hands on my skin dried up, I hear him spring after the winter, the sprouts of hope reborn. Marco has a strength that I have not seen anywhere else. He asks me to bring it to the path of gravel. Come on, I put behind him and help him to fall by putting his hands under his arms to direct his fingers towards the larger stones. Grit your teeth for the terrible pangs in the back, but Mark's ride, and I do not need anything more. Let's go to the fountain in front, we run the stones in and laugh for a few sketches that wet coats.
least I hope that this love will never know the desperation of the end.

Why Does Meth Make You Ugly

Seriously - SNUFFING Daniele Scarpati

worthy to describe the kind of darkness that surrounds Snuff, is not enough to recall the night. Do not just turn off the light. Snuff does not exist if it were not black. A black man who seems made to make the white of his skin still more unnatural, more shiny. A gloss cold, raw. Like a neon.
Press the POWER button on his computer Snuff says the lady tied on the chair: "In a little 'we telephone your child and see if we can make us laugh with him." He adds: "Let's see if it is able to entertain his audience in this circumstance. "The woman's son is an eighteen provinces. It is becoming popular posting his videos on Youtube. His videos belong to the category "comedy". Tell jokes, perform short monologues, recites poetry, sings songs, accompanying himself on guitar. But his specialty, his trademark, the jokes are telefonici.Questo know because he told me Snuff. It will also be popular this kid but I had never seen before Snuff show me some of his videos. Besides, I do not have time for these things. Be the best friend of Snuff is time job pieno.La mother of the boy, bound and gagged in that chair, she cries and despairs. He has some bruising on his face because of squashing that Snuff gave buona.È desperate to keep her. Although in practice has not yet seen anything. The dead are not just white ones, cold and stiff. A dead man can wiggle and despair and try paura.Un dead can also be like this lady here. The mother of Comicogenio89.Comicogenio89 is the nickname by which this guy signature her videos. His real name is Roberto.Snuff launches Messenger. It is night. "I knew that I find this online at this time - with the note says Snuff most cruel that her voice is able to issue - did you know that you kill saws surfing porn sites and video chat erotic?". The lady is crying. Perhaps already beginning to understand. The gag was that the taint of the mouth and hot wet droplets that flow down her cheeks. The dark spots are the color of your mascara. With yellow eyes like a snake skin and neon that is becoming increasingly white, Snuff says: "For his desire to meet people and become known that fool your child has already revealed his MSN contact in her profile Facebook.. " He says: "When I added to my contacts are not in the least place the problem adding that the same stranger. Maybe he did not even notice the small detail that the address was that he was inviting video.tortureuccisioni @ hotmail.com. Ah, I forgot! Just for the record on your child's My Space, because he has both the Facebook and My Space, first and last name are on display. And the address. If I were one of those freaks nerds and vulgar I would have broken into your house and I made a mess. I would have tortured one by one with a hook. I ate your cat alive before your eyes.. "This last sentence reminds me of our agreement. The agreement Snuff I did when I met him. Years ago. But there I think. Right now I'm not ready for such a thing. My journey with his friend Snuff is not yet complete. "Fortunately I am not so obvious in my things, so here we are," says Snuff concluding his arringa.Con his hands white-neon type Snuff Quickly different nickname for his Messenger. His nickname is now Snuffin. And in it written in his avatar, I do not know why but I get the brividi.Snuff explains that the only way to be taken into account by Robert is to have a nickname as a girl. Snuffin says that, despite being blatantly pathetic, just to mislead the consumer. He says that Bob is an idiot. His way of explaining step by step, each turn taken by his reasoning makes it fascinating. His lucid madness frightens me more than his toolbox. The bag where he keeps the tools of the trade. "HELLO, MY NAME IS SARA - Snuff type in the dialog box - YOU MUST PLAY CAM TO CAM?." Not even finished writing that Bob sends a video call. Snuff takes a few seconds and it takes the computer to load the link, suddenly pulls the chair from Robert's mother in front of the monitor, putting it right in front of the webcam webcam.Quando the two are connected, the scenery, seen from outside, is the following: Roberto wearing only boxer es'intravede already a principle of erection. Snuff is standing behind the lady who is still gagged. With one hand, pulls her hair behind her head and the other caresses her face flushed with tears and his face terrore.Roberto close to the monitor. It employs three, maybe four seconds to focus on the identity of the woman imbavagliata.Dal foreground of his face, I can read his labbra.Leggo clearly pronounces the word "Mom !!!». He repeats many times and meanwhile, with his hands covering his dick in erezione.Immagino the other side sees only the poor Roberto scored his mother's face in the foreground and a dark shape looming out of the hands to his pale an spalle.Per Snuff perverse taste decide who wants to talk to use the phone instead of a simple microphone. He walks away from his victim and took the handset. Type in the number of memory Comicogenio89 house. On the other side of the webcam boy seems paralyzed with fear, and so leave and do not risponde.Snuff ringing off the call and goes to the computer. Evading the range of the cam and approaching it the wireless keyboard, writes in the dialog box that does not love the people while staying at home does not respond to phone calls. She tells him that now draw again. He wrote to Robert that if you do not respond in the vagina of his mother will put a hungry rodent. The writes that to make sure that the crack does not come out of vagina suturerà ham, and leave the rat in there to do damage until his mother died bled. Among pain atroci.Il all, of course, will be recorded by the cameras and become a snuff-movie. Will be sold online.Passa about a minute when Roberto, foreground, reads and weeps. See a comic cry is one of the most harrowing events that you can assistere.Snuff for a while ', leaves him there to stew in his own juice. Does not call right away. He wants to make sure that the message is clear. He wants to be sure that the full horror pervades Roberto.Quando finally call back, the boy responds to the second ring. Snuff put the handsfree and the phone rests on the shelf messy it normally uses as a table of torture. "Mom! - Roberto cries just starts the conversation - but did not have to go on pilgrimage to Lourdes? ". The mother has a gag. If you could respond to his son, explained that he was abducted at bus stop. While waiting for the shuttle to the airport. "Your mother can not answer - Snuff says as if uttering a sentence - you have to talk with me." "Who the fuck are you? Never mind my mother dimmerda piece. "" Disrespecting not help, and it saves her life. However everyone calls me Snuff. I guess that is why you now clear. "" Mad-manic dimmerda !!!». a fury Snuff and changes color. For a moment the glow of his inhuman face is interrupted by a red flash. A flash of anger. Odio.Con of a glacial calm and a cruel smile Snuff stands up. Open the bag that holds the gear. Pulls out an electric razor and the wireless space for the batteries completely devastated. Note that above the rotating blades Snuff welded steel supports two long, parallel. On these supports, perpendicularly, a razor blade is welded by hand, like those of barbers. The challenges and square standing behind the lady. Roberto continues to see nothing but her face battered and terrified of his mother and the hands of white light that Snuff tinker. Snuff He grabbed her face and shakes his head blocking against his belly. Rests on the razor edge of meat there from the beginning of the eyebrow and the base of the nasal septum. The length of the blade, vertically, covering the entire space that goes from eyebrow to zigomo.La lady moans in the gag and blinks two, three, four times. Velocemente.Roberto, still in his underwear, and with an erection that is now only a distant memory, is deformed in webcam and the phone hands-free reaches its desperate scream, "Noooooo !!!!». Snuff poses in her mouth evil grin and stroke with the razor a crescent of blood that spoils the area around the eye of the lady. The eyebrow and the skin underneath, the meat of the cheekbone and a good portion of the eyelid is cut off. Probably the eye has undergone danni.L 'scream Comicogenio89 deaf mother of one of those who feel alone in incubi.Roberto dispera.Snuff cries and seems satisfied. Throwing dirty on the shelf and changed his bloodstained razor says: "I hope you will now be more docile and follows my wishes.." "I'll do what you want - Roberto sobs - but not do anything wrong to my mother.." " not giving you anything if you do what I tell you, "he says Snuff lying." What do you want? "asks Roberto between lacrime.E Snuff explains that now trigger a program that allows to record the image it receives the webcam. He explains that while he wants to resume one of its proverbial telefonici.Gli tells jokes to work so if he can make him laugh let him free his mother and it will not hurt. Snuff is not aware that Robert knows how to laugh. Snuff does not show neither joy nor ever serenità.Snuff lives and enjoys only the evil that can be imposed on the gente.Specie if people with the desire to become famous. To appear. "To whom would I do this joke?" Asks Robert, and his voice is just lacrime.E Snuff close the phone, placing it in front of the mother of Robert. Ungags says: "To you, your mother.." He adds: "I think an intelligent woman and full of humor. The ideal victim for your own joke. Next, make me laugh! And be persuasive. "Snuff is close to its bag. Fruge looking for something, some other tool tortura.Io while I sit because I expect that it will go a bit 'for long.

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First Photo LUCCA! ELISHA

Here! Lalla