Monday, December 28, 2009

Party Ideas For My Mum

Variations on a theme of love (3)

3. A caress. So I think and write. It was a caress. But there is a big gap between what I think and what I write, an infinite space between my intention and your perception, my hand and skin. Further away are your thoughts and feelings. I do not know if I can find for you uncertain that gesture was a touch or not, if my hand for a moment that touched your skin to convince me that you're there, flesh and bone. A caress as a bridge between the cold of the letters with you invention and you think, and the warm feel of your skin beyond all my words. A delight to convince me not to exist only here, invented with plus and minus signs arbitrary and poorly painted on the pad at the time still did not see but you were about to.

about to, like my heart and my hand were about, except I think or would like, my heart and my hand in the final minute stretch at the last second or fraction of a second longer and more frightening it can be a man and never repeats. My hand trembling on the verge of being stretched to the precarious site that occupies your arm, about to walk in fear disappears, the profile of your beautiful white skin. Your skin is no longer a shadow silhouette soothsayer, but a kind of illusion that I am afraid to break with that touch that I did not think nor wanted, but is about to happen. A point, my heart about to come up with more dreams and nightmares I would have never allowed my hand when he saw one millionth of a second faster than him, stretching to paint your uncertain and shaky at the end of the first touch of curiosity in disguise or disguise God knows what. My heart is a millionth of a second faster than your response, your reaction, now living in Einstein's nightmare all reactions, good and bad, tender and cruel, from which it could begin to write the rest of my life. My hand to point, point my heart and, above all, your face and your skin point.

Uncertainty is not hard, but enough for me to live all possible outcomes of an action that did not choose or planned, a move of my hand, my heart and your face that seems a throwback cosmic determined by the logic that governs dreams, that causality twisted where it all happens for no reason but she tries and always manages to make sense to not wake up. Imagine.

imagine that moment, if you could see with my eyes. Imagine me scared when I see my hand away and unaware of all my orders, unauthorized herald all my hopes to get a touch longer and cover it with a trivial pretext. Someday your eyes tell me seek your face to the point, perhaps expected. But I do not want the explanations later, to come to me or anyone else. I wonder what there there when your about to face, my hand almost, my heart imminent. I guess if your eyes, like mine were the hand of others coming to your arm. If your arm was there waiting for my touch way, if you noticed, if you wanted that cold and warm touch of a hand, finger trembling on the timid slip your arm. If you endured because they had no choice or if, like me, you gave a new meaning, incomprehensible.

My hand stretched nearly to get a touch in disguise, my heart just about to say I love you in silence. And your face. Your face almost smiling. Your hand on the point of going through the exact spot where the first awkward draw you knew all my strokes, our caresses. Just

that moment to be happy, but impossible to live day by the rest of life. Just a touch to it immediately and there before your eyes I wish I look without my noticing, because I have not noticed. One touch and I was about to write. I love you. After much thought, after hesitation, for accepting the desire is to accept also that there be fulfilled. I do not want it to pass. Point pen to write I love you. Your eyes are about to read that I love above the pen glides over the paper, leaving traces its ominous black. And I, for pages and pages about to write your name without daring, because the five letters that name you describe my fate is still to be written. It is time to resign and flee. Because at first simply too little to be happy, then nothing is enough.

My Hand about to get a touch. My heart about to admit I love you. Your face on the verge of a smile. Your hand about to touch an echo. My pen about to write I love you, write your name. All time confused, doubled over, curled blunt. And I before and after, but again now that he is always on what is to happen, I am about to write your name, yet I dare not. Again the sheet could be white, he was about to bring the infinite eternity in your name.


November 23, 2009


Monday, December 7, 2009

Japanese Car Spotters



CORTES

LA CONQUISTA DE AMÉRICA TRUNCA EL DESARROLLO PROPIO DE LOS PUEBLOS NATIVOS

Desde el inicio, las islas de las Antillas fueron ocupadas por los españoles. La primera isla en ser ocupada fue Guanahaní, conocida como San Salvador; luego la Española, hoy República Dominicana y Haití; luego Cuba, Puerto Rico y Jamaica.
El establecimiento hispano en esa parte de América fue clave para la ocupación del resto del continente, pues desde las islas partían las expediciones para explorar las costas de Centroamérica y Sudamérica, respectivamente.
Una vez que los españoles se establecieron totalmente en las islas antillanas, se inició la exploración discovered the new continent. Were not completely successful the first expedition to Castilla del Oro (as it was called back then to Panama) and Nueva Andalucía (now Colombia and Venezuela), led by Diego de Nicuesa and Alonso de Ojeda, respectively. However, succeeded in founding in 1510 the first English city in South America: Santa María de la Antigua del Darién (in Colombia).

THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO
Rumors about the existence of a country rich in gold began to circulate on the islands occupied by the English. Once aroused your interest, organized expeditions to the continent which left the island of Cuba.

They confirmed the existence of an empire of the Aztecs.
Hernán Cortés in 1519, left Cuba, after several weeks of travel, reached the Yucatan Peninsula and was informed of the status of the Aztec empire. Then, under the command of 400 English soldiers and with the support of the people who disagreed with Aztec domination went to Tenochtitlan, the capital of the empire, where income in the month of November.
The presence of Cortés, provided foreign elements in the eyes of the Aztecs (beard, horses, armor and guns), was interpreted by the Aztecs as Quetzalcoatl's return. This would explain the initial submission of the Aztec Emperor Moctezuma. However, it soon became clear that the English were not divine beings.
Subsequently, the atrocities committed by the conquistadors in Tenochtitlan, in the absence of Cortés, led an uprising Aztec (1520). When Cortés returned, he ordered Moctezuma to reassure his people, but the Aztecs themselves killed their emperor. Faced with such critical situation, Cortés had to retire. It is said that during the withdrawal killed half of the conquerors, made by which Cortés wept bitterly. In this episode of the conquest of Mexico is known as "La noche triste."
However, the English succeeded reorganized, and after long struggles, took Tenochtitlan (1521). The subsequent execution of the last Aztec emperor, Cuauhtémoc, in 1525, marked the end of the Aztec empire.

ACTIVITIES:

1. Explains
· A) Why was it important for the English placed first on the island of America.
· B) What was the interest that led the conquistadors to make his expeditions to the Americas.
° C) Why do you think Moctezuma and the Aztec people were initially subjected to the English conquistadors.
· D) Why is Montezuma was stoned to death by their own people.

2. Spot the errors and corrects each sentence:
a) The first English city that was founded in South America Lima.
b) The conqueror of Mexico was Francisco Pizarro.
c) The first English occupied the islands of North America.
d) was the last Aztec emperor Moctezuma.
e) Initially, the English called Castilla del Oro Venzuela

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Netgear Dg934g Simulator

Variations on a Theme of love (2)


2. And at first there is little need to be happy. Just a moment, a little time and even necessary. It's easy to find that happiness and be a little place there in the middle, a play or drill in words or pictures. Not hard to imagine, for example, a miser guarding Seurat instantede pointillist happiness over time. Just look at the picture, read the lyrics, close your eyes and concentrate on that first time, Fausto, when you saw you saw Gretchen, that first time, Lou-Andreas, which crossed word with Rilke. Simple happiness, happiness principle, for its clarity happiness fills the world and blind as the first light of Prometheus, but therefore, carry or drag the punishment and the obligation as a lifelong companion.

needed little when one is still sunk in the abyss or the dark and asked just a sunbeam or a drop of dew for relief. When you're alone, before I knew, without knowing, but because of absence, the empty spaces, the outline of your shadow. So, at first, needless to make your name or your outline to smile in the dark; enough then wait, watch the void and assume your ability as a result. The prisoner was enough Montecristo just the illusion of being free to be. But looming just a change and the Hamlet is just nuts and shrinks increasingly.

So when I saw the first time I gave up and wanted the infinite worlds just your smile again How long is your smile, the first? Expiration date, I know, and has arrived, but did not know when. Perhaps to know your name or understanding with any degree of certainty, that I can see you smile nearly every day to fill the coming years. Your smile died when she stopped being an exception, when repeated. But the same, and although it had been your only smile that sooner or later would have become of happiness in torture, regret and death.

At first just a little to be happy. But the desire or need to know no bounds, give way quietly to the ambition. A brief moment happiness enough to have a lifetime ambition to become embittered every moment with the intuition of what is needed, with the contempt of what has or had and is no longer sufficient or enough anymore to be happy. Just a little, but then the natural ambition of happiness and desire, and will not be enough even the best of all possible worlds, or the sum of all possible worlds. No end in an expanding universe, there is no attractions and no limits. Even the eternal return is a consolation because it always takes longer and the repetition or neglect are not enough. Your smile put me on the threshold of time, before the infinite, but I have to reject it, because not enough.

A drop of water, like the rich man asked Lazarus is no consolation in the flames of hell. Any happiness is the great principle, but in an instant is negligible. Thus, neither to see you again, or are already receiving your smile or the suggestion of a temporary joy. A brief comfort makes the most terrible torment. And my torment is not got you. Others have you and sometimes is worse than the worst of my words. The first time your skin touched mine in a kiss near the air suggested in the casual greeting between strangers and hallways and everything else. That is no consolation, is pain. Because now I need to wait and suggested that kiss all the time, wake up, when leaving home, returning in the car, at the work, life, death, and in the brief interval between each point of composing this letter never reached you as you are now, before you know your skin called me. The outline of your shadow, your face unknown, your first smile, your name, your skin, everything is transformed before it can enjoy and perpetuate, in a perpetual longing, as the morning star announces the dawn, but does not dispel darkness.

I love you. So far what I write. After much thought, after more hesitation. I love you and that is not enough to be happy, very little. I love you and it hurts, because to speak, to write, I must also accept that my desire was never really fulfill my dear, I do not want to fulfill my desire. I want you away forever and always close, but never have you all. Love is the curse swear eternal search for happiness every day and give it every moment. Willful blindness of your skin, your face and your smile, I want to have you all and infinite desire as the storm itself endless possibilities and you are not, you define the absence and presence, potency and act. I love you, and that means that not even the sum of all moments Yours, seen and lost, the possible and impossible, past and future, will be enough to make me happy. In your smile I give up happiness for ever closer, each moment, without ever. Eternal distance division.

At first it is easy to be happy. But that principle is also the trap of anxiety, resignation, death into life. There is an infinite search of your smile, I can not summarize or your name, that now seems empty, inadequate. And so, lift the pen, though I admit that I love you I dare not write your name, because you are my happiness and therefore, the pain does not end.


-Und alles war neben dir geschrieben-


November 17, 2009