Elmar wrote:
In December it is only natural I would say, and the Group has run properly: we begin with a good supply of chocolates ( cocoa, as you know, hot) and we started for just the warm up exercises in reading based on the stories that consolidated Group-of-4 produces fertile vein. I then read my rewrite of The man who bought the dolls , which left the audience slightly displaced: in fact, not rewrite it but is reinventing itself, based on the initial starting point supplied by Gd-four , namely the mature ladies who collects Barbie dolls, a bit like the Smithers from the Simpsons series, you know? The racks, lick-secretly in love with Monty Burns, the head and the absolute master of the nuclear power where Homer works. Well. The last time this idea in one of the stories provided me the opportunity for a reinvention, this:
In December it is only natural I would say, and the Group has run properly: we begin with a good supply of chocolates ( cocoa, as you know, hot) and we started for just the warm up exercises in reading based on the stories that consolidated Group-of-4 produces fertile vein. I then read my rewrite of The man who bought the dolls , which left the audience slightly displaced: in fact, not rewrite it but is reinventing itself, based on the initial starting point supplied by Gd-four , namely the mature ladies who collects Barbie dolls, a bit like the Smithers from the Simpsons series, you know? The racks, lick-secretly in love with Monty Burns, the head and the absolute master of the nuclear power where Homer works. Well. The last time this idea in one of the stories provided me the opportunity for a reinvention, this:
Suspended in the air
- Ouch! - I find myself stretched out and sore, and I do not know why, it's dark, often as a dark wool, and I fell. I had never fallen before. What's happening? I stretch out my hands to find the virtuaLibro I was reading / floated before, but when exactly? Minutes, hours? Days, maybe? Bump something with his feet. Or someone. I hear a door creak, and it is strange: here the doors do not creak, never could do it. Why do not exist. I know that there were, at one time, I found it in a virtuaLibro prohibited: and that's why I know the meaning of the verb "creak" referring to a door.
I am very good at school. And also to rummage in virtuaLibri prohibited with my specialpassword that will never reveal to anyone.
But I do not need this now.
I'm afraid.
smear on something cold and hard, to be what Romantic writers once called the "floor" we, the floating floors virtuaLibri only read them and see them in virtualFilm. I hear something over his head, and I assume that I am in an enclosed space and very limited, but where, where? Where am I? Here perhaps there is a light. Green. "Out of Service for blackout."
No, I do not. It is not possible. We were always taught that we are immune from the Floating disasters like this. But it happened. The exit is blocked, the fluctuations have all been reset. I continue to trudge doggedly, grab the ledge with your fingernails ... what's his name? Floor, ah, yes.
- Ouch! - I find myself stretched out and sore, and I do not know why, it's dark, often as a dark wool, and I fell. I had never fallen before. What's happening? I stretch out my hands to find the virtuaLibro I was reading / floated before, but when exactly? Minutes, hours? Days, maybe? Bump something with his feet. Or someone. I hear a door creak, and it is strange: here the doors do not creak, never could do it. Why do not exist. I know that there were, at one time, I found it in a virtuaLibro prohibited: and that's why I know the meaning of the verb "creak" referring to a door.
I am very good at school. And also to rummage in virtuaLibri prohibited with my specialpassword that will never reveal to anyone.
But I do not need this now.
I'm afraid.
smear on something cold and hard, to be what Romantic writers once called the "floor" we, the floating floors virtuaLibri only read them and see them in virtualFilm. I hear something over his head, and I assume that I am in an enclosed space and very limited, but where, where? Where am I? Here perhaps there is a light. Green. "Out of Service for blackout."
No, I do not. It is not possible. We were always taught that we are immune from the Floating disasters like this. But it happened. The exit is blocked, the fluctuations have all been reset. I continue to trudge doggedly, grab the ledge with your fingernails ... what's his name? Floor, ah, yes.
And then I begin to remember. On
virtuaLibri I read as a small figurines were cut, and had asked the virtualMaestra the name of those funny things sticking out from one of these "legs" - I replied. And then he had darkened the screen and I had to start the program in organic chemistry, I did not like either, among other things. I remember they were the ones ... as they were called ... ah! Here, legs, and where they were placed. I know I could have them too, I had seen him on another of virtuaLibri prohibited, those most difficult to open with my specialPW. But a hacker has its limits. Reach out, trembling. I hear something that moves with me while I continue to drag on the rocks of that floor. With an effort I focus on these two things that I never used, because I move I move forward. I try to move them thinking about it. First one then the other. Meanwhile, here is there another light, this time is not green: it's a different light, white, dazzling.
And suddenly the darkness is interrupted, the floor no longer exists and I find that I'm using my two "legs" to move quickly, faster and faster, I know what I'm doing now is called "run ". And I see a ... what's his name ... tree? Yes, tree. It is not floating, it is planted in the ground ... what's his name .... And there are some round things above, which closely resemble the virtualFrutti, I rise on toes of my ... what are they called ... ah, here it is: feet. Reached out, grabbed one of those round things, and shooting. I know I have to, though not quite understand why. I lose my balance, round thing falls to the ground. The
fixed.
And I understand: no longer one of the Floating. They crossed over. That where there is gravity.
virtuaLibri I read as a small figurines were cut, and had asked the virtualMaestra the name of those funny things sticking out from one of these "legs" - I replied. And then he had darkened the screen and I had to start the program in organic chemistry, I did not like either, among other things. I remember they were the ones ... as they were called ... ah! Here, legs, and where they were placed. I know I could have them too, I had seen him on another of virtuaLibri prohibited, those most difficult to open with my specialPW. But a hacker has its limits. Reach out, trembling. I hear something that moves with me while I continue to drag on the rocks of that floor. With an effort I focus on these two things that I never used, because I move I move forward. I try to move them thinking about it. First one then the other. Meanwhile, here is there another light, this time is not green: it's a different light, white, dazzling.
And suddenly the darkness is interrupted, the floor no longer exists and I find that I'm using my two "legs" to move quickly, faster and faster, I know what I'm doing now is called "run ". And I see a ... what's his name ... tree? Yes, tree. It is not floating, it is planted in the ground ... what's his name .... And there are some round things above, which closely resemble the virtualFrutti, I rise on toes of my ... what are they called ... ah, here it is: feet. Reached out, grabbed one of those round things, and shooting. I know I have to, though not quite understand why. I lose my balance, round thing falls to the ground. The
fixed.
And I understand: no longer one of the Floating. They crossed over. That where there is gravity.
Recently, the Group is faced with rapid-fire questions and checks, so you find yourself short of breath and it is always difficult to talk about what we read, and also suggest topics that are, yes, indeed they are accepted for the most part suggested by the Group itself, but then I get the impression that the texts fall into the void a bit, I miss the discussions fervent than once, and now it tells the other what you have to read risucire ( and in general, he has not yet been able to finish) and you can almost never discuss one or more short stories offer. Another consideration that I do about the blog: it has become a kind of my personal notebook or at least used to someone else who does not even part of the group to download the bibliographies for term papers / Question: this is not the purpose.
Anyway here is the usual literature, this time about " cold "even though I have a feeling that by the end of the semester looming, hardly will be used in full.
- The model of Pickman, HP Lovecraft, in : Stories 1923-1926 (Mondadori 1990). Location: NA LOV HP
- The Witch, by Anton Chekhov, in: Tales - vol.quarto (Einaudi 1974). Location: ND CEC ANT
- Christmas Eve, by Guy de Maupassant, in: Tales of Parisian life (Einaudi 1996). Location: NF GUY MAU
- Elves , Ludwig Tieck, in: The blond Eckbert and Other Stories (Studio Tesi 1990). Location: NT TIE LUD
- The spell of nature, Dino Buzzati, in: Sixty stories (Mondadori 1995). Location: N DIN BUZ
- Jemima girl mountain , Francis Scott Fitzgerald, in: Tales of the Jazz (Mondadori 1990). Location: NA FIT BETWEEN
- The wax doll and stepmother, Olive Schreiner, in: 1899 short stories (Ed. Labor 1988). Location: NI SCH OILS
Monday, December 19th will be the last meeting of the Group before the break for the (deserved) holiday season: it attempts to be complete!
to MONDAY 'December 19
14.30'
IN LIBRARY
, so hath been established that I will make a widespread distribution to the student newspapers of the leaflet + ID group, and let's see what happens. In any case, as far as I'm concerned, there are at least a couple more things I can not explain, and the total absence of adults, although as the months have made their (occasional) appearance to express heartfelt interest, such as also shows the disappearance of the rest in a record time of 20 to 30 leaflets " 
. However, Paris certainly reappear next Monday, because interesting things to read there were many: from a little-known classics to get to Balzac and Sue Zola. One caveat: I started a new Yellow Mondadori title 
