Ok. I bring the emotions in the throat ... it should be.
while ago I came to sangrona's because they did not know the question many virus-spameros had decided to write today. And here I have: the same lifetime. The fact is that I fled from my cell-cat lair, where cats chase each other and stopped looking at me as if to say: ok love sponge, we understand what the divitio vel compositio ... and that what is related to intentionality? (Short Kualia Perler directly quoted in the post-past of the last name Perlman, because he was thinking of Salvatore, Ron Perlman and the name of the Rose .... Bogomils !!!!)...
Hui. The inquisitive eyes of the cats was too much. Worse was to meet an old story about Valerio unfinished ... too good. Is it then was 28 and my neurons were at its pinnacle? But now, not stories or argument or anything ... neurons are down.
No, do not bring emotions into the throat, all crowded together trying to build a coherent discourse about Alberto is making the sign for a theory devoid of intellectual faculties. That's all he does ... or at least only intention. And what? Is it so easy? Surely everyone already had realized and that no one has published anything about it. I say no one has even deigned to challenge assumptions so bright ... and opaque.
and heme here, fleeing from the self-imposed seclusion. Fleeing the self-imposed timetable to deliver something decent counselor and begin to build the road to "be somebody." And when I find this post .... (Number \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Previous here.) And I think that the higuiatra that referred to "the meaning of life." And I read the anger of the girl of twenty many years and I know a little ways to write in it. Or at least the flame printed on the paper product of an avalanche of emotions in his throat.
I want to be somebody?
came the Archangel weekend my guard. And here I am, with my nonsense in the future, children, common life. And no sooner had he left when I hit my head repeatedly against the wall muttering the incessant mantra "stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid ..." and wondering where the fuck did that monster that was already well doped in the basement of my consciousness. Doping
, there, little calm, shackled with leather straps, in the basement of my consciousness. Padded walls for the poor will not hurt. There might be released and take five thousand years of women fem-ism the surface of my thoughts. Be someone, be someone, be someone. Ande you (mutters the monster), you must be someone for recognition. Recognition is power. Power is the fuel that keeps the balance against the entropic forces of life. Power, power, power. Earlier, in a Paleolithic cave, meant to shelter, sustenance and satisfaction of other basic needs and instinctual (stupid monster Marcusian-scientific structuralist-dialectic). But then everything was sublimated into categorical imperatives and became part of an unconscious superego, to achieve freedom (power, power, power, power) did nothing but satisfy the ego means that recognition.
and be somebody. Someone ...
A common means of survival because it gives the two basic things of human existence: power and freedom. And there are those who sacrifice for one another. Stupid. The two are the same thing.
Stupid.
Stupid.
And then a monster comes out of the nineteenth Paleolithic cadalzo I do about cutting off his head, and shouts, you woman! Require husband! Phallus can only provide you with all the recognition you need! Power and freedom! Yes, female freedom ... but finally released.
And I pursue with a mallet in hand around the house, throwing books and booksellers and hot on the tail twice the cat. Away from home and runs down the sidewalk east of Tlalpan ... Going towards the center! You should go faster than him, with the hammer ... must go faster than him and I climb the subway ... not well spent by the sangrona's of Xola Ladin gets and seeks to hide in self-help section. Low Xola and run to the sangrona's What the monster is still there?
Customers me look pale with fright, the security people are willing to me about kicking me out - and I am but clientÃsima client for thousands of years! You would do better helping to hunt down that damn monster with apron Paleolithic squares, pregnant for the umpteenth time-
One of them grabs a braid.
grabbed his shoulders and the monster hang over his head to see the deck, moaning and begging me see:
- Do not you recognize me? I'm all your dolls, Mafalda instinct takes her out from time to time, the hierarchy of the whole society, your desire for someone to do things for you, all phallic phallus who have gone through your mind as people who are, they are somebodies. Do not you recognize me? Can not you see I am the personification of the scale of single values \u200b\u200bof the entire universe? Who will guide you if you give my account? Who will teach to find you the power and freedom crouching all under the justification of what should be and I do good? You lack imagination, meant to invent another scale of values. And what have I blame me if yours is as Paleolithic and despicable in your eyes? "Neglect your mother for not realizing that Japanese cartoons have the same values \u200b\u200bas infamous banned soap operas? Do I zorrajarás their necks even knowing you will not know where to go, or how many drives decently powdered death and power that you invade?
But the gavel fell on his head. For now I wanted silence. Silence. Do not listen to anything more than Albert the Great, my advisor, secondary literature, the meowing of cats, and another chapter of Eco .. for now.
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