Engineering.
Some questions to better understand it.
Is it innate or acquired it?
Should it be recognized to exist?
Should he speak or have the right to sleep?
Have you ever been destroyed by the idea that sleep and slept undisclosed geniuses?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Throat Swells After Drinking Alcohol
They do not all die but all would be hit
Engineering.
Some questions to better understand it.
Is it innate or acquired it?
Should it be recognized to exist?
Should he speak or have the right to sleep?
Have you ever been destroyed by the idea that sleep and slept undisclosed geniuses?
Engineering.
Some questions to better understand it.
Is it innate or acquired it?
Should it be recognized to exist?
Should he speak or have the right to sleep?
Have you ever been destroyed by the idea that sleep and slept undisclosed geniuses?
Itching All Over And Pain In Ovaries
This time it's the right
Make shit ...
I am zen today. Once again ...
Nothing to say
Pom pom pom
...
Empty. Nothing. But fucking nothing. Not even tension, frustration.
But how come ... ????????????????????
Well, I go groom my blog.
Make shit ...
I am zen today. Once again ...
Nothing to say
Pom pom pom
...
Empty. Nothing. But fucking nothing. Not even tension, frustration.
But how come ... ????????????????????
Well, I go groom my blog.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Creamy Lotiony Cm After Ov
Terrified
I am appalled by the mediocrity of my current production. Not only the content but the style is bad is becoming terribly winded.
The worst thing is that it does not discourage me. It just makes me want to do nothing.
So I do nothing.
Yesterday I had the idea of a novel scenario that seems really good. I noted in my Moleskine. There's going to keep warm, until I take me by the hand and I dare throw.
The pangs of criticism. That's my block. This irrational feeling that we will laugh at me. 
I am appalled by the mediocrity of my current production. Not only the content but the style is bad is becoming terribly winded.
The worst thing is that it does not discourage me. It just makes me want to do nothing.
So I do nothing.
Yesterday I had the idea of a novel scenario that seems really good. I noted in my Moleskine. There's going to keep warm, until I take me by the hand and I dare throw.
The pangs of criticism. That's my block. This irrational feeling that we will laugh at me.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
What Is R On Pokemon Cards
Do not judge me
Take my unspeakable
And shut up
If you feel the same
Good 
Take my unspeakable
And shut up
If you feel the same
Good
Thyroid Diseease Scholarships
The slow deterioration of color innocuous
My voice is more colorful. Before rolling and cheeky, bold and cheerful, this child of the South-West stormed and sometimes sang my childhood was tainted by the sober tone of siding Paris.
I bite my nails again. For you who know me, you'll think I never stopped.
I smoke again. How ironic. 
My voice is more colorful. Before rolling and cheeky, bold and cheerful, this child of the South-West stormed and sometimes sang my childhood was tainted by the sober tone of siding Paris.
I bite my nails again. For you who know me, you'll think I never stopped.
I smoke again. How ironic.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Schematic 12v Smart Charger
dream! THE STUNNED
Day 1
It is with great difficulty that I write these first words. They trot in my head for a few days already. The frustration is immense but the desire to tame my mind is more. Words ... these devices with which you decorate the empty space in your paper. Well arranged, they form a nice literature that one never tires of travel. The beating and banging your language, which gradually looking to play aloud the litany that you hear only compliments your catatonia a voluptuous sensation of imprisonment and freedom.
And soon you think you understand what I feel.
And you will understand. More. Whether the answers are here or a few pages later. Discomfort or nausea, unpleasant feeling that you dare not speak. Or persons who did not experience these monsters of insensitivity to your eyes
Neither those who feel it. First, because this discomfort leads to an inability to empathize, an acute selfishness, an intense withdrawal makes you feel misunderstood and inconsolable.
But mostly because people around us and feel our nerves, we are reluctant because they project an irresistible image that we dare not see us. 
Day 1
It is with great difficulty that I write these first words. They trot in my head for a few days already. The frustration is immense but the desire to tame my mind is more. Words ... these devices with which you decorate the empty space in your paper. Well arranged, they form a nice literature that one never tires of travel. The beating and banging your language, which gradually looking to play aloud the litany that you hear only compliments your catatonia a voluptuous sensation of imprisonment and freedom.
And soon you think you understand what I feel.
And you will understand. More. Whether the answers are here or a few pages later. Discomfort or nausea, unpleasant feeling that you dare not speak. Or persons who did not experience these monsters of insensitivity to your eyes
Neither those who feel it. First, because this discomfort leads to an inability to empathize, an acute selfishness, an intense withdrawal makes you feel misunderstood and inconsolable.
But mostly because people around us and feel our nerves, we are reluctant because they project an irresistible image that we dare not see us.
How To Builda 14ft Boat
wind storm between the rounds
Scramble.
One of these mornings, I take the time to scream and go crazy.
La Defense, Paris.
A book in hand, I make my way among the arms that push out the first of these underground tunnels. The metro beeps behind me then rushes into the dark implacable sidings.
sweat on his forehead. It is terribly hot here. People, enervated by confinement and the heat is launching a frenzy to exit gates. My brisk walk punctuated by the drums of my player that barely cover the hubbub of the morning discussions and not useless is incessantly interrupted by the untimely departures of people going in all directions.
end of the tunnel. Light. Finally.
Rain ... Fucking shit town.
top of the escalators still in repair, those poor guys who distribute free newspapers people read to be aware of what they have seen yesterday, when the figure contrite PPDA distilled them their dose beneficial information directly pumped into the RSS feed any website. "More Morning", "20 minutes", "Metro", evocative names. The new vectors the single thought and institutionalized ...
People who smoke outside. The logo that I know so well and spread in white letters on a blue background above the door that invites me again to go get warm in his frenetic and reassuring torpeur.Et go.
Hello to my temple guard insurance. Corridors lit by neon emetics. Lift. Bip. A guy who goes down first to the second. Basically, of course. And ugly, because he works for the same company as me. 7th floor.
My floor. The floor of every dream. With my PC. My connection to life. The rest. The universe. Before that, shaking sessions. "Machin Hello, hello Truc. Ah XXX is not there?" "No, it is moving." Mines agreed to use smiles.
Café. Rite reassuring. I take my glass of water, just to have something to do. And the day begins. Or rather, the day will pause until tonight. Pause. 
Scramble.
One of these mornings, I take the time to scream and go crazy.
La Defense, Paris.
A book in hand, I make my way among the arms that push out the first of these underground tunnels. The metro beeps behind me then rushes into the dark implacable sidings.
sweat on his forehead. It is terribly hot here. People, enervated by confinement and the heat is launching a frenzy to exit gates. My brisk walk punctuated by the drums of my player that barely cover the hubbub of the morning discussions and not useless is incessantly interrupted by the untimely departures of people going in all directions.
end of the tunnel. Light. Finally.
Rain ... Fucking shit town.
top of the escalators still in repair, those poor guys who distribute free newspapers people read to be aware of what they have seen yesterday, when the figure contrite PPDA distilled them their dose beneficial information directly pumped into the RSS feed any website. "More Morning", "20 minutes", "Metro", evocative names. The new vectors the single thought and institutionalized ...
People who smoke outside. The logo that I know so well and spread in white letters on a blue background above the door that invites me again to go get warm in his frenetic and reassuring torpeur.Et go.
Hello to my temple guard insurance. Corridors lit by neon emetics. Lift. Bip. A guy who goes down first to the second. Basically, of course. And ugly, because he works for the same company as me. 7th floor.
My floor. The floor of every dream. With my PC. My connection to life. The rest. The universe. Before that, shaking sessions. "Machin Hello, hello Truc. Ah XXX is not there?" "No, it is moving." Mines agreed to use smiles.
Café. Rite reassuring. I take my glass of water, just to have something to do. And the day begins. Or rather, the day will pause until tonight. Pause.
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