Northstar Services Scam

DOGS - serials. Prologue + # 1

PROLOGUE

leather jacket wet. The air that cuts through the night is so cold it hurts to breathe.
alcohol in his body left in the car the last glimmers of my lopsided attention.
One step and another step. In front of the other foot and another step towards the counter white.
Sparkling steady and yellow, above. Crumbs and salt from the peanuts. Three
Negroni. Out of this hole in the street empty, rain. I still have a cigarette in his mouth.
Out of this hole. Silence. Cut most of the wind. Now. Heels, shiny bits of boots. The gust of perfume
shakes my stomach. An amazing day of pure madness erupts from my mouth
chemical fouling those beautiful feet and I fall. I laugh and piss me below.
laugh even when I get the blow to the stomach. More fun m'alzo
and nothing can contain the erupting regurgitation which shone out like a boy possessed the sparkling
divided white. Meanwhile, my colleague with his faithful straightening backs m'impartisce the lesson of the priest.
Penitent, stop laughing.


cops shit.

# 1 Howling

# 1.1 Lu

So you're telling me that they want to complain?

No, I'm saying I want the address of that bitch who smashed me in the ribs.
I say playing with a lemon. Support me on the forehead and make the direction of the seal.

not even let me finish my number. It is in the living room and phones. From the window of the kitchen two
eyed and crazy staring at me. I smile and what it
comes out is not quite what I expected. Could you tell me where to get something to drink rather
of babble with the prick of a lawyer who also know you understand that there
a saw? While a plan for anything interesting that you hear from far away
find what I was looking for: Vodka. I sit down and quaff.

This bitch is doing the little show of concern and regret. In practice
is extorting a little 'time to dedicate to my big, fat cock. And that fool you and take care
sviolinerà the usual manic advice and do not worry I'll take.
Nothing better. Meanwhile I have plenty of time to prepare the little show. I turn on the stove,
choose a dish and equipment. Vodka starts to make me feel a bit 'better.
I feel that I already pulled.

The negotiation takes ten minutes. I have the time to take a look around the kitchen
and find a sheet of fifty in un'agendina resting on a shelf, next to
some cookbooks and a blackboard with the words: spinach, corn flakes and absorbent.

Fifteen minutes to take off a little 'and then throw me in the chair at the center of
kitchen, takes off his jeans, panties and pushes me to my face and his black
hairy bush. If you want your information guadagnatele, and by a stroke with your hips forward, so that the smell
of her sex when it is warm and fragrant pisses me off and fills me with trembling flesh
pants, button. As a nerve tense I get up and shove into the medium.
forces with the punch with a little cry and she is left to raise up to slam back into the wall.
The vagina open like a lovely smile. Done as they are just about to giggle, but when she
serious, telling me to grasp the basic courage ficcamelo in, I do not think twice. The

come in the face, she likes, and me too. Then I sit down and take a good swig from the bottle
still open. I hear the water running to the bathroom and the shuffle of slippers
house on the floor. When he returned a piece of paper in hand and a slanting cigarette in his mouth. Please
you deserve it, she says, the pellets and pulls me. She is beautiful. A bit 'thin perhaps, but those delicious
blades give the lanky gait and sensual, and those cold eyes and a careful look
large and soft. Is looking at me as you watch a geek, indicates
the door, I said, shove off Billy the Kid, Thomas is coming back and you've got what you wanted, I think.

Seeing a gallant kisses her hand, greeted by a fuck and do even more useless crap.
Even tonight the air is cold. But does not ever fuck is spring?

Northstar Services Scam

DOGS - serials. Prologue + # 1

PROLOGUE

leather jacket wet. The air that cuts through the night is so cold it hurts to breathe.
alcohol in his body left in the car the last glimmers of my lopsided attention.
One step and another step. In front of the other foot and another step towards the counter white.
Sparkling steady and yellow, above. Crumbs and salt from the peanuts. Three
Negroni. Out of this hole in the street empty, rain. I still have a cigarette in his mouth.
Out of this hole. Silence. Cut most of the wind. Now. Heels, shiny bits of boots. The gust of perfume
shakes my stomach. An amazing day of pure madness erupts from my mouth
chemical fouling those beautiful feet and I fall. I laugh and piss me below.
laugh even when I get the blow to the stomach. More fun m'alzo
and nothing can contain the erupting regurgitation which shone out like a boy possessed the sparkling
divided white. Meanwhile, my colleague with his faithful straightening backs m'impartisce the lesson of the priest.
Penitent, stop laughing.


cops shit.

# 1 Howling

# 1.1 Lu

So you're telling me that they want to complain?

No, I'm saying I want the address of that bitch who smashed me in the ribs.
I say playing with a lemon. Support me on the forehead and make the direction of the seal.

not even let me finish my number. It is in the living room and phones. From the window of the kitchen two
eyed and crazy staring at me. I smile and what it
comes out is not quite what I expected. Could you tell me where to get something to drink rather
of babble with the prick of a lawyer who also know you understand that there
a saw? While a plan for anything interesting that you hear from far away
find what I was looking for: Vodka. I sit down and quaff.

This bitch is doing the little show of concern and regret. In practice
is extorting a little 'time to dedicate to my big, fat cock. And that fool you and take care
sviolinerà the usual manic advice and do not worry I'll take.
Nothing better. Meanwhile I have plenty of time to prepare the little show. I turn on the stove,
choose a dish and equipment. Vodka starts to make me feel a bit 'better.
I feel that I already pulled.

The negotiation takes ten minutes. I have the time to take a look around the kitchen
and find a sheet of fifty in un'agendina resting on a shelf, next to
some cookbooks and a blackboard with the words: spinach, corn flakes and absorbent.

Fifteen minutes to take off a little 'and then throw me in the chair at the center of
kitchen, takes off his jeans, panties and pushes me to my face and his black
hairy bush. If you want your information guadagnatele, and by a stroke with your hips forward, so that the smell
of her sex when it is warm and fragrant pisses me off and fills me with trembling flesh
pants, button. As a nerve tense I get up and shove into the medium.
forces with the punch with a little cry and she is left to raise up to slam back into the wall.
The vagina open like a lovely smile. Done as they are just about to giggle, but when she
serious, telling me to grasp the basic courage ficcamelo in, I do not think twice. The

come in the face, she likes, and me too. Then I sit down and take a good swig from the bottle
still open. I hear the water running to the bathroom and the shuffle of slippers
house on the floor. When he returned a piece of paper in hand and a slanting cigarette in his mouth. Please
you deserve it, she says, the pellets and pulls me. She is beautiful. A bit 'thin perhaps, but those delicious
blades give the lanky gait and sensual, and those cold eyes and a careful look
large and soft. Is looking at me as you watch a geek, indicates
the door, I said, shove off Billy the Kid, Thomas is coming back and you've got what you wanted, I think.

Seeing a gallant kisses her hand, greeted by a fuck and do even more useless crap.
Even tonight the air is cold. But does not ever fuck is spring?

Does Canned Chicken Broth Expire

howls of Circe

Ulysses Fragile

remains the world in my eyes tired
tonight because there's red wine

thick as blood.

illusion of being able to respond
sitting alone in this space of silence and water
a shiny old
choose the appropriate name.


ink in his veins, syringe without weight
white contrast and a photograph in time
cry of seven miracles that I cry when I think about it.


A negative listening.
Sea and motion and heat.
diachronic disenchantment.


Santa escapes shadow
if you forget anything in the past
the words I have teeth, full canopy edge
never be enough to flee this melancholy.


only the Book of Answers for everything, I remain.

Does Canned Chicken Broth Expire

howls of Circe

Ulysses Fragile

remains the world in my eyes tired
tonight because there's red wine

thick as blood.

illusion of being able to respond
sitting alone in this space of silence and water
a shiny old
choose the appropriate name.


ink in his veins, syringe without weight
white contrast and a photograph in time
cry of seven miracles that I cry when I think about it.


A negative listening.
Sea and motion and heat.
diachronic disenchantment.


Santa escapes shadow
if you forget anything in the past
the words I have teeth, full canopy edge
never be enough to flee this melancholy.


only the Book of Answers for everything, I remain.

How Will Ringworm Look When Its Healing?

asses abused ...

Not everyone loves the donkeys, despite their undoubted intelligence and sympathy. Unfortunately someone appreciates them for eat, someone mistreats them in questionable events, as ancient.

The Donkey Shelter ONLUS indicates a regrettable manifestation of the Mardi Gras in Spain, Villanueva de la Vera . Click here

you can find the link to the online petition calling for the application of laws to protect animals in this case.

How Will Ringworm Look When Its Healing?

asses abused ...

Not everyone loves the donkeys, despite their undoubted intelligence and sympathy. Unfortunately someone appreciates them for eat, someone mistreats them in questionable events, as ancient.

The Donkey Shelter ONLUS indicates a regrettable manifestation of the Mardi Gras in Spain, Villanueva de la Vera . Click here

you can find the link to the online petition calling for the application of laws to protect animals in this case.

Topical Steroids On The Genit

all write all of the art care

love writing. I love writing because I love the thought. I love the thought because I love the ideas. I love the ideas because I love the worlds and I love the stories. man grows through the municipality in through the sharing of their defeats and their own insecurities. through dreams, conveyed in metaphors, the decoding of the sign. single footprint, making it the ultimate truth about us through a medium that makes no distinctions of race, education, or language or religion.
if we could poke into all the drawers belonging to our poor, small and brutal race, we would find a treasure of poetry, stories and worlds. finally we may be able to decode, remove the divine from the smallness that allows us to exploit the time, forget the concept of immortality that bad priests, materialistic, lords of the rings and moral, good and their masses and tuttotenenti nullimmagino, perhaps even to create a happiness.


have noticed that the bottom of this pile of nonsense is this symbol?

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License .

called Common Contents


and means that you can do what you think of that I write it if you really feel like, just sue the source. and I denounce you!
was in 800 that a certain Mr James Watt - that of horsepower to be clear - he invented a machine that, in its evolution, we then called Photocopying. was an important moment. after duplicating the technique was stealing to mind the uniqueness of its product. a kind of industrial revolution of thought. Then I grew more and more markets, capitalism, needs and other such barbarism. then, intellectual property, copyright.
there is no growth without sharing, without education, communication, creation without cooperation.
I can not stop thinking about dada and the cadavrexquis, the collective wu-ming and those who see the art of becoming the true evolution of a collective mind, the single largest and most divine, to be too firm in the quagmire of the vanities (why not? condiviamola this vanity, I shall certainly more fun).
I can not help but wander to the blog, this is the North Sea without the network. Sometimes you run into something that, really, do not wait. I do not think that the Scripture Industrial Collective is a case, a derivative of Web 2.0, but the sign of change: personal, social.
the idea is that of Fordism (I will not link, sbattetevene) of the assembly line of films: in practice it is a Moloch who eats the flesh of many will grow and maybe eat rancid leftovers of this skewed reality editorial .
curiosity to you, then do not tell me that I have kept silent. here there is also a manual, the rest is to imagine and grow. together.

Topical Steroids On The Genit

all write all of the art care

love writing. I love writing because I love the thought. I love the thought because I love the ideas. I love the ideas because I love the worlds and I love the stories. man grows through the municipality in through the sharing of their defeats and their own insecurities. through dreams, conveyed in metaphors, the decoding of the sign. single footprint, making it the ultimate truth about us through a medium that makes no distinctions of race, education, or language or religion.
if we could poke into all the drawers belonging to our poor, small and brutal race, we would find a treasure of poetry, stories and worlds. finally we may be able to decode, remove the divine from the smallness that allows us to exploit the time, forget the concept of immortality that bad priests, materialistic, lords of the rings and moral, good and their masses and tuttotenenti nullimmagino, perhaps even to create a happiness.


have noticed that the bottom of this pile of nonsense is this symbol?

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License .

called Common Contents


and means that you can do what you think of that I write it if you really feel like, just sue the source. and I denounce you!
was in 800 that a certain Mr James Watt - that of horsepower to be clear - he invented a machine that, in its evolution, we then called Photocopying. was an important moment. after duplicating the technique was stealing to mind the uniqueness of its product. a kind of industrial revolution of thought. Then I grew more and more markets, capitalism, needs and other such barbarism. then, intellectual property, copyright.
there is no growth without sharing, without education, communication, creation without cooperation.
I can not stop thinking about dada and the cadavrexquis, the collective wu-ming and those who see the art of becoming the true evolution of a collective mind, the single largest and most divine, to be too firm in the quagmire of the vanities (why not? condiviamola this vanity, I shall certainly more fun).
I can not help but wander to the blog, this is the North Sea without the network. Sometimes you run into something that, really, do not wait. I do not think that the Scripture Industrial Collective is a case, a derivative of Web 2.0, but the sign of change: personal, social.
the idea is that of Fordism (I will not link, sbattetevene) of the assembly line of films: in practice it is a Moloch who eats the flesh of many will grow and maybe eat rancid leftovers of this skewed reality editorial .
curiosity to you, then do not tell me that I have kept silent. here there is also a manual, the rest is to imagine and grow. together.

What Sides Go With Bratwurst

talk about art is always difficult, why bother making the very concept of existence, it inevitably faces over the steep banks of the shared vision, as well as thin wall that they sang Floyd, after which, jumping into the void, they have lost mental life and the reason so many great men and women who were. live branch is not only more difficult but definitive, implies a choice of enthusiasm (from the ancient greek enthusiasmòs formed by en (in) and theos (God). It literally could be translated as "with God within himself" , or "Indian", "potting divine ), the greatest of sacrifices to get lost.

how many times have you talked about the meaning of this word? I Have spoken to the bar and in bed, I had a fight in Valencia on the counter of a pub, I've asked in front of the mirror looking at me in my animal of Cubism, I asked one Wizard ill in Prague and in response I have received only a feather, lost in the Vltava. I asked my heart dying in a hospital bed, and I have received only silence.

and think again, I can not help but think of a group of Rostov on Don who in 1920 published a manifesto that sounded like this:

Manifesto nihilism

not write anything
Do not read anything Do not say anything

prints nothing

and in 1920, in Rostov on Don, all the poets were nullisti.
now, just do not think about it anymore. the response will be alone, while do water the flowers, perhaps, or that I have half a slice of cake in his mouth, the saliva of a kiss or just because.
conclude by quoting the CSI

Eonica daily soap opera episodes
Give the parties run the extras
Mimporta 'nasega know
But well done that you never know
Mimporta' nasega
But you know well that it made You never know

because somehow allow me to introduce this very politically correct piece, which will never be a Haiku was born and listening to NOFX (but has nothing to do).
Florence mentr'urlo crackling in flames high above the silent sleep
MICA
SLEEP
MORDANO
MOMENTS

What Sides Go With Bratwurst

talk about art is always difficult, why bother making the very concept of existence, it inevitably faces over the steep banks of the shared vision, as well as thin wall that they sang Floyd, after which, jumping into the void, they have lost mental life and the reason so many great men and women who were. live branch is not only more difficult but definitive, implies a choice of enthusiasm (from the ancient greek enthusiasmòs formed by en (in) and theos (God). It literally could be translated as "with God within himself" , or "Indian", "potting divine ), the greatest of sacrifices to get lost.

how many times have you talked about the meaning of this word? I Have spoken to the bar and in bed, I had a fight in Valencia on the counter of a pub, I've asked in front of the mirror looking at me in my animal of Cubism, I asked one Wizard ill in Prague and in response I have received only a feather, lost in the Vltava. I asked my heart dying in a hospital bed, and I have received only silence.

and think again, I can not help but think of a group of Rostov on Don who in 1920 published a manifesto that sounded like this:

Manifesto nihilism

not write anything
Do not read anything Do not say anything

prints nothing

and in 1920, in Rostov on Don, all the poets were nullisti.
now, just do not think about it anymore. the response will be alone, while do water the flowers, perhaps, or that I have half a slice of cake in his mouth, the saliva of a kiss or just because.
conclude by quoting the CSI

Eonica daily soap opera episodes
Give the parties run the extras
Mimporta 'nasega know
But well done that you never know
Mimporta' nasega
But you know well that it made You never know

because somehow allow me to introduce this very politically correct piece, which will never be a Haiku was born and listening to NOFX (but has nothing to do).
Florence mentr'urlo crackling in flames high above the silent sleep
MICA
SLEEP
MORDANO
MOMENTS

List Of Clothing In French

saw the new flesh and bad policy

too often fall into the error of bask in that pleasant sense that white condemn us, ancestrally, to relegate us as the center of a world. beings poised on the thin line that separates the real biological, slaves, pressed, judged, specified, and the endemic sense of a world "other." for some a feeling that the weight of a sigh, a conviction for another restlessness and insecurity, without justification or possible solution.
a postulate of experimental psychology, says, "is nothing but the hallucination that the slip (slow or progressive) recorded from a reality to an interpretation from the senses. "
perceptions to which we are subject require us to decide that in most cases we are unable to address. on the one hand right programmatic vision of a future in which we can hardly make sense, on the other pressing conviction that comes from the human existence. Join or die.
personally think all too often to Burroughs and the New Flesh: "There is no true reality Real or "the priest said," there is the Real Men without dreams, the rest is bad policy "and I say, somehow, I like to think that we would agree.


hesitates joy

Under the shade of a yellow ribbon
hidden insects silver
rejected by the lights
vibrate at low breathing lizards hidden
up the sun.

lag behind only those who had already taken
holding a hat in the air.
The birds do not fly never
with the belly to the sky.

Strait, not surrendered
dome with a convenient comfort will not be known
the same road, I
not the same man.

The love of my passion saddest
not change your decisions or your pain
or lie down on this mat of silk
like a slut sleepless
or the grass grow from my meat
without roots in essence inhuman.

so that the flavors will not be speaking with his mouth
the electric blue, the dazzling yellow.
unrolled like a fabric
from the east comes another sweet forgiveness.
Just a kiss whispered on the skin, yet.

List Of Clothing In French

saw the new flesh and bad policy

too often fall into the error of bask in that pleasant sense that white condemn us, ancestrally, to relegate us as the center of a world. beings poised on the thin line that separates the real biological, slaves, pressed, judged, specified, and the endemic sense of a world "other." for some a feeling that the weight of a sigh, a conviction for another restlessness and insecurity, without justification or possible solution.
a postulate of experimental psychology, says, "is nothing but the hallucination that the slip (slow or progressive) recorded from a reality to an interpretation from the senses. "
perceptions to which we are subject require us to decide that in most cases we are unable to address. on the one hand right programmatic vision of a future in which we can hardly make sense, on the other pressing conviction that comes from the human existence. Join or die.
personally think all too often to Burroughs and the New Flesh: "There is no true reality Real or "the priest said," there is the Real Men without dreams, the rest is bad policy "and I say, somehow, I like to think that we would agree.


hesitates joy

Under the shade of a yellow ribbon
hidden insects silver
rejected by the lights
vibrate at low breathing lizards hidden
up the sun.

lag behind only those who had already taken
holding a hat in the air.
The birds do not fly never
with the belly to the sky.

Strait, not surrendered
dome with a convenient comfort will not be known
the same road, I
not the same man.

The love of my passion saddest
not change your decisions or your pain
or lie down on this mat of silk
like a slut sleepless
or the grass grow from my meat
without roots in essence inhuman.

so that the flavors will not be speaking with his mouth
the electric blue, the dazzling yellow.
unrolled like a fabric
from the east comes another sweet forgiveness.
Just a kiss whispered on the skin, yet.