Ho speso il week end a Milano. Varie cosucce da fare che si sono risolte in qualche ora e poi il baratro: i negozi !!
Ero con la mia dolce meta' e Elena (la sua e mia amica) e oggi mi hanno fatto fare il tour dei negozi del centro... (ieri non e' stato differente...) credevo di morire... mai mettere insieme due donne e accompagnarle per negozi. Niente di piu' "pesante" per un uomo! Sono persino finito in uno di quei negozi "IN" di Milano pieno di commessi finocchi e gente vestita in modo che dire "strano" e' fare un complimento... ma io non capisco la moda forse. No no... pero'... pero' i finocchi sono sempre finocchi!! E questi anche non li capisco, ma e' un altro discorso questo (e poi basta muoversi radenti ai muri per essere tranquilli!).
Devo invece fare i complimenti alla grandiosa M che passando per il sottosuolo ti porta in pochi minuti da un angolo all'altro della citta', l'avremo mai a Torino cosi efficiente? Speriamo perche' e' davvero utilissima (anche se non proprio economica, ma forse io non sono piu' aggiornato in merito a costi dei mezzi pubblici.)
Tra l'altro ieri ho pagato qualcosa come 5 euro l'ora per lasciare la macchina in un parcheggio vicino al centro, ma dico!! Anzi, CRIBBIO!! E' una cosa INDEGNA, direbbe l'amico di Arcore, per restare in tema milanese.
Il senso di questo post? Perche' deve sempre esserci un senso? Andiamo a dormire che e' meglio va...
This was Muad'Dib's achievement: He saw the subliminal reservoir of each
individual as an unconscious bank of memories going back to the primal cell of
our common genesis. Each of us, he said, can measure out his distance from that
common origin. Seeing this and telling of it, he made the audacious leap of
decision. Muad'Dib set himself the task of integrating genetic memory into
ongoing evaluation. Thus did he break through Time's veils, making a single
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son and his daughter.
-- Testament of Arrakis by Harq al-Ada
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Oh my GOD -- the SUN just fell into YANKEE STADIUM!!
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In independent thought about this question, Neil Armstrong and I concluded
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base of technology must exist from which to do the thing to be done. Second,
a period of national uneasiness about America's place in the scheme of human
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the national attention upon the direction to proceed. Finally, an articulate
and wise leader must sense these first three conditions and put forth with
words and action the great thing to be accomplished. The motivation of young
Americans to do what needs to be done flows from such a coincidence of
conditions. ... The Thomas Jeffersons, The Teddy Roosevelts, The John
Kennedys appear. We must begin to create the tools of leadership which they,
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there were no winners, just men doing what men must do. [...]
"Stop the car," the girl said.
There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the
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arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.
"I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she said, "the tollway
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The next morning our youth was a memory, and our happiness was a lie.
Life is like a bad margarita with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey
onto my granola and faced a new day.
d t -- Peter Applebome, International Imitation Hemingway
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-- Isaac Asimov
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also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a
French restaurant. [...]
I could not tell the girl about the woman of the tollway, of her milk
white BMW and her Jordache smile. There had been a fight. I had punched her
boyfriend, who fought the mechanical bulls. Everyone told him, "You ride the
bull, senor. You do not fight it." But he was lean and tough like a bad
rib-eye and he fought the bull. And then he fought me. And when we finished
there were no winners, just men doing what men must do. [...]
"Stop the car," the girl said.
There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the
woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an
arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget.
"I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she said, "the tollway
belle's for thee."
The next morning our youth was a memory, and our happiness was a lie.
Life is like a bad margarita with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey
onto my granola and faced a new day.
d t -- Peter Applebome, International Imitation Hemingway
Competition
Love thy neighbor, tune thy piano.
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