left brain before birth I TeleAdolf
Wednesday, September 8, 2004
Longislandgaycruising
the late nineties I was hanging around an absurd project took years to disappear completely from my thoughts. The idea was so simple and stupid: it was about creating a service of Hitlers to make an appointment for dinner at a Mexican restaurant. A kind of TeleAdolf.
I was convinced that this was a perfect plan to give a little color to the evening routine of so many lonely urbanites. And after a day of hard work, get to the apartment for a night watching movies on video and taking a piece of cold pizza before bed can be very good, but I'm sure that's not the kind of life one wishes carry for the rest of his days. Ditto regarding the services of a prostitute or a hustler. For the love of god, sometimes not enough for a measly polvete. People need love. Having the option to call the Führer himself to go to make enchiladas and hold a good Kurdish range of possibilities open to cope with a single life alienated.
course I would take care of indoctrinating each of my employees. Would be great conversationalists, able to justify its past policy achievements maximizing and minimizing their abominations with a "was not so bad." That would be the motto of the company, to the delight of revisions lumpen. People hire outgoing, humorous, but with some style. Who knew dozens of songs and hymns to sing Germans embraced the customer, perhaps accompanied by a small band of mariachis, perhaps a capella (plus payment of Wagner). People would like art, good conversation, with a certain culture but never pedantic. And maybe at the last minute could play the role of decadent leader faces his ghosts, his knees begging forgiveness for his crimes. But that would have to pay plus repentance. Due in part to my Jewish origins came to weigh create a lynching plus, but that's only for VIPs. The important thing is that customers return home with a smile and had something interesting to say the next day at his office colleagues.
The project was ambitious, I have no doubt. I was not sure as planteármelo, whether as a business, a work of art or as a service to the community. He was also aware that very few people would be able to interpret such a role with the intensity that I wanted and at the time, so believable. Sometimes I realized that maybe I was the only one capable of doing something, but at that point in my life I had no liarme too eager to host with Nazis and punks. Also at a later stage to incorporate more celebrities thought such, but I knew it was something that went beyond me and I was eating. So I let it go.
Sometimes I remember my TeleAdolf. We live in dangerous times for this kind of shit, but if someone is willing to finance the business, lent me happy. The world needs art.
I was convinced that this was a perfect plan to give a little color to the evening routine of so many lonely urbanites. And after a day of hard work, get to the apartment for a night watching movies on video and taking a piece of cold pizza before bed can be very good, but I'm sure that's not the kind of life one wishes carry for the rest of his days. Ditto regarding the services of a prostitute or a hustler. For the love of god, sometimes not enough for a measly polvete. People need love. Having the option to call the Führer himself to go to make enchiladas and hold a good Kurdish range of possibilities open to cope with a single life alienated.
course I would take care of indoctrinating each of my employees. Would be great conversationalists, able to justify its past policy achievements maximizing and minimizing their abominations with a "was not so bad." That would be the motto of the company, to the delight of revisions lumpen. People hire outgoing, humorous, but with some style. Who knew dozens of songs and hymns to sing Germans embraced the customer, perhaps accompanied by a small band of mariachis, perhaps a capella (plus payment of Wagner). People would like art, good conversation, with a certain culture but never pedantic. And maybe at the last minute could play the role of decadent leader faces his ghosts, his knees begging forgiveness for his crimes. But that would have to pay plus repentance. Due in part to my Jewish origins came to weigh create a lynching plus, but that's only for VIPs. The important thing is that customers return home with a smile and had something interesting to say the next day at his office colleagues.
The project was ambitious, I have no doubt. I was not sure as planteármelo, whether as a business, a work of art or as a service to the community. He was also aware that very few people would be able to interpret such a role with the intensity that I wanted and at the time, so believable. Sometimes I realized that maybe I was the only one capable of doing something, but at that point in my life I had no liarme too eager to host with Nazis and punks. Also at a later stage to incorporate more celebrities thought such, but I knew it was something that went beyond me and I was eating. So I let it go.
Sometimes I remember my TeleAdolf. We live in dangerous times for this kind of shit, but if someone is willing to finance the business, lent me happy. The world needs art.
Tuesday, September 7, 2004
Become Anotary Of Republic Manitoba
projects abandoned before birth (Introduction)
Given the weeping, free and self-indulgent in this blog of mine, I think an attempt to try to bring some thematic coherence, aesthetic, ideological and personal at this point would only make more evident its character as trash.
time of writing on paper, the paper was an essential element. It ended up discarded hundreds of ideas that finally convinced us or we were not able to address the way we thought was right. Balls of paper, ribbons, studs and cigarette butts that we emptied the ashtray at regular intervals. It was the destination of couples abandoned by the Muses and after being fucked evil, ugly ideas of dance which also did not know to click and send him to ass the whole party. The basket in ending the shit we had to clear to reach what he called someone "own voice."
The problem is that finding one's voice requires more of ourselves than perhaps we are willing to accept. With one's voice always happens that when we finally get to hear we find it ugly. Is it true that I have that voice? It must be the recording, which distorts. So many times our voice, the authentic, it ended precisely in the paper, wrinkled, torn into pieces.
I am committed to making public My menstrual diary, so I made my blog a graveyard of abandoned projects before birth. Mine is a voice that I like it too, but like my wife loves me and I just do not understand why, maybe someone can have fun with some of my ideas abandoned. If I may, to read, may feel compelled to pick up and out. Be that as it is something I'm excited to do.
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