<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737</id><updated>2011-04-22T03:17:53.629+02:00</updated><title type='text'>livro do desassossego por G.</title><subtitle type='html'>Risolviamo bruscamente, con il sentimento, i problemi dell'intelligenza, e lo facciamo per stanchezza di pensare, per paura di trarre conclusioni, per la necessita' assurda di trovare un sostegno, o per l'impulso gregario di ritornare agli altri e alla vita. F.P.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-111796726469320649</id><published>2005-06-05T12:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T12:30:19.206+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>to be a kangaroo... to be a spider... metamorphosis in coming.  So che mi accusano di superbia, e forse di misantropia, o di pazzia. Tali accuse (che punirò al momento giusto) sono ridicole. E vero che non esco di casa, ma è anche vero che le porte (il cui numero è infinito)  restano aperte giorno e notte agli uomini e agli animali. Entri chi vuole. Non troverà qui lussi donneschi ne' la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/111796726469320649/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=111796726469320649' title='5 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111796726469320649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111796726469320649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/06/to-be-kangaroo.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-111727330255275289</id><published>2005-05-28T11:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T11:41:42.606+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mi è stato passato un testimone... devo farlo :)  (thanks Ru')Music-Quiz1. Volume totale dei file musicali:9 giga. tutti da cd originali conservati in fondo all'armadio :)2. L'ultimo cd che ho comprato:mi unisco al coro... With teeth dei NIN ma ci aggiungo The downward spiral Deluxe edition.3. Canzone che sta suonando ora:I love you, Ono - Stereo Total4. Cinque canzoni che ascolto </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/111727330255275289/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=111727330255275289' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111727330255275289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111727330255275289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/05/mi-stato-passato-un-testimone.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-111627945125602543</id><published>2005-05-16T23:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T23:37:31.260+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You are an elitist bastard. You hate people that try too hard, actually you just hate people in general. You have excellent taste in alcohol, however, and probably have an excellent collection of classical and experimental music.What kind of goth are you?Created by ptocheia</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/111627945125602543/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=111627945125602543' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111627945125602543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111627945125602543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/05/you-are-elitist-bastard.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-111504272410268509</id><published>2005-05-02T16:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T16:05:24.103+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>...moondust will cover you, cover you... </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/111504272410268509/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=111504272410268509' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111504272410268509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/111504272410268509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110889244648987908</id><published>2005-02-20T10:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T10:51:17.596+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>into the woods... I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life. And not, when I come to die, discover that I had not lived.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110889244648987908/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110889244648987908' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110889244648987908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110889244648987908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/02/into-woods.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110871009443385323</id><published>2005-02-18T08:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-02-18T08:01:34.433+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>E allora ditemi... che male c'è a voler essere nate in un'altro secolo? Just another time, another space...  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110871009443385323/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110871009443385323' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110871009443385323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110871009443385323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/02/e-allora-ditemi.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110733138517572269</id><published>2005-02-02T09:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T17:00:42.663+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>heat A grande richiesta, mi rimetto a scrivere... volevo finirlo stamattina questo post, ma mi sono persa e sono scappata in uni... Dovrò fare uno studio sulle alienazioni mentali provocate dall'inalazione regolare di acidi da incisione... per ora la cavia sono io. Credo di non essere molto portata per i lavori che richiedono precisione meticolosa e pazienza, tendo ad annoiarmi subito. Azione </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110733138517572269/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110733138517572269' title='5 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110733138517572269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110733138517572269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/02/heat-grande-richiesta-mi-rimetto.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110621719117089751</id><published>2005-01-20T11:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-01-20T11:33:11.170+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>my footsteps leads to...? </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110621719117089751/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110621719117089751' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110621719117089751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110621719117089751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2005/01/my-footsteps-leads-to.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110440784225071475</id><published>2004-12-30T13:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-30T12:57:22.250+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Si avvicina la fine dell'anno, and what have I learned, from all these tears...?Sento una specie di incombenza, i propositi da fare, il doversi divertire la sera di capodanno...Ma il mio anno è già finito e ho già fatto i miei propositi... e così percepisco questo capodanno solo come una convenzione sociale e temporale... So già cosa succederà, mi sveglierò la mattina dopo e scriverò il mio </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110440784225071475/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110440784225071475' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110440784225071475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110440784225071475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/si-avvicina-la-fine-dellanno-and-what.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110372221158046322</id><published>2004-12-22T14:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T14:34:39.136+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[...] For we're livingin a safety zoneDon't be holding back from meWe're living from hour to hour down hereAnd we'll take it when we canIt's a kind of living which recognisesThe death of the odourless manWhen nothing is vanity nothing's too slowIt's not Eden but it's no shameThere is no hellThere is no shameThere is no hellLike an old hellThere is no hellAnd it's lights up, boys</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110372221158046322/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110372221158046322' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110372221158046322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110372221158046322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-post_22.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110366925552161440</id><published>2004-12-21T23:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T23:47:35.520+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Vorrei avere una foto di me esattamente un anno fa... Ma non riesco a trovarla.Ho trovato le mie parole, e mi sono spaventata di come rappresentino esattamente come mi sento ora. Mi sento come se avessi percorso un cerchio, o come se fossi stata risucchiata verso il basso e fossi riuscita solo adesso a tornare in superficie a respirare... E ora che il sangue è tornato al cervello ho </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110366925552161440/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110366925552161440' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110366925552161440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110366925552161440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/vorrei-avere-una-foto-di-me.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110355367046243092</id><published>2004-12-20T15:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T15:57:44.546+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sleeping red... In improvvisi momenti di autocoscienza ripenso a come spesso mi piace annegare nelle parole altrui, lasciarmi riempire dalla tranquillità che dà rendersi conto che qualcun'altro ha già provato esattamente quello che sto provando e ha trovato il modo perfetto di dirlo.Perchè ostinarsi a trovare altre parole, a combattere contro i mulini a vento dei limiti della lingua?Ma </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110355367046243092/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110355367046243092' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110355367046243092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110355367046243092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/sleeping-red.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110320934629098853</id><published>2004-12-16T16:02:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T16:07:58.126+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So che lei sastrategie dell'apneache sono sue amicheche sono ferite novitàil vero che muoresucchiandomi il cazzosvanisceil risveglio dal sognoforse uccidemai tradiscePuoi non assaggiareper veder se il gusto se ne vao ti devastao ti devasta il prezzo che si haScopami fra fiori urlanti strategieinsetti malvagi da scacciaremaledirePuoi non assaggiareper veder se il gusto se ne </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110320934629098853/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110320934629098853' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110320934629098853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110320934629098853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/so-che-lei-sa-strategie-dellapnea-che.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110315703357550333</id><published>2004-12-16T01:30:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T01:30:33.576+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i hurt myself today to see if i still feel i focus on the pain the only thing that's real the needle tears a hole the old familiar sting try to kill it all away but i remember everything what have i become? my sweetest friend everyone i know goes away in the end you could have it all my empire of dirt i will let you down i will make you hurt i wear this crown of shit upon my liar's chair full of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110315703357550333/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110315703357550333' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110315703357550333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110315703357550333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/i-hurt-myself-today-to-see-if-i-still.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110294088248073231</id><published>2004-12-13T13:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T13:28:02.480+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>..."Può anche essere così" dissi io "Ma osserva chi cade per strada, guardalo che gesticola ai suoi vicini, guardalo mentre lo calpestano. I gesti esteriori non portano a niente, perchè ciascuno si preoccupa solo del suo bisogno immediato. Osserva l'uomo che cerca di alzarsi dal marciapiede, guarda l'altro che inciampa su chi non vede"...Poi lei abbassò le tende e disse "Quando imparerai che ciò </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110294088248073231/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110294088248073231' title='7 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110294088248073231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110294088248073231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110237159797423948</id><published>2004-12-06T23:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-06T23:19:57.973+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Gioie e noie di anni di convivenza Per qualcuno sono una schiavitù La coppia in crisi genera cattivi odori E poi mostri fughe ed altri guai Bella e dolce in cerca di un'esperienza Vuole un lui sensibile ai suoi guai Vive insoddisfatta dell'esistenza Cerca storia ad alta intensità Bella e dolce ha sete di conoscenza Vuole mascherarsi un po' con me La mia fantasia non ha coscienza La tentazione </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110237159797423948/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110237159797423948' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110237159797423948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110237159797423948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/gioie-e-noie-di-anni-di-convivenza-per.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110194665055136181</id><published>2004-12-02T01:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-12-02T01:19:31.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ci sono cose che ti accarezzano l'animo... come una manto di foglie ambrate sotto i piedi, e nuvole rosa che si nascondono tra gli alberi... ci sono tante vie che si percorrono nella propria vita, ma non dimenticherò mai una frase scritta in viola su un muro:La vita è un giardino di sentieri, che si separano e che però a volte si riuniscono, segnando le nostre vite con quel genere di sorpresa </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110194665055136181/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110194665055136181' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110194665055136181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110194665055136181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/12/ci-sono-cose-che-ti-accarezzano-lanimo.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-110104927541442772</id><published>2004-11-21T16:01:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-11-21T16:01:15.413+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Milano circonvallazione esterna quattro e mezza di mattinoper la radio sono troppo tristee il dj non mi parleràsembra avere tutto così chiaro questo scemosembra sempre una sola la realtàche qui non ho dirittodi non essere felicedi non sentirmi vivonella mediocritàche mi propinise volessi modificherei il mio visoe ripartirei da zeroma sarebbe come arrendersi a quello che non sono e non sentirsi </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/110104927541442772/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=110104927541442772' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110104927541442772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/110104927541442772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/11/milano-circonvallazione-esterna.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109661760303918433</id><published>2004-10-01T09:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-10-01T10:00:03.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sto ricominciando sempre di più a svegliarmi ad orari da essere umano e ciò mi piace...dovrò farci l'abitudine, se ricomincia l'accademia e voglio tentare di frequentare una volta ogni tanto mi sembra il minimo.da una certa soddisfazione intrinseca lavorare, ti mantiene attiva. dovrebbero capirlo tutti.la lezione del giorno me l'ha data una bambina: mi ha dimostrato in maniera palese (come </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109661760303918433/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109661760303918433' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109661760303918433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109661760303918433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/10/sto-ricominciando-sempre-di-pi.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109645187836922612</id><published>2004-09-29T11:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-29T11:57:58.370+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>perchè la gente non ha voglia di svegliarsi al mattino? è la paura del mondo? la paura di affrontare se stessi da svegli?delle tante mie paure non ho quella del risveglio. mi alzo e in una parte di me spero sempre che sia un altro giorno.perchè la gente si dimentica sempre di guardare l'anima delle persone?se fossimo fatti di solo spirito non avremmo paura di avvicinarci. potremmo vedere </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109645187836922612/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109645187836922612' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109645187836922612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109645187836922612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/perch-la-gente-non-ha-voglia-di.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109636057592998464</id><published>2004-09-28T10:29:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T10:36:15.930+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>risveglio stupito dalla scoperta che j.Ax ha rifatto in italiano Fuck it di Eamon... già l'originale mi aveva asciugato... ora poi... a questo punto è meglio l'italianizzazione di P.I.M.P. di Tormento...vabbeh.a parte ciò, ennesima notte agitata di mille sogni e pochi sonni, sicuramente ho sognato una piscina e il fiorani in kilt.oggi mi aspetta la prova piscina con i bimbi, terrore, riuscirò </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109636057592998464/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109636057592998464' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109636057592998464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109636057592998464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/risveglio-stupito-dalla-scoperta-che-j.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109627551629833940</id><published>2004-09-27T10:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-27T10:58:36.296+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>i raffreddori tornano sempre...oggi sarà la giornata della dedizione al lavoro.pensateci tuttifesteggiatee io vado a farmi un te' caldo...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109627551629833940/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109627551629833940' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109627551629833940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109627551629833940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/i-raffreddori-tornano-sempre.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109618569993030910</id><published>2004-09-26T09:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-26T10:01:39.930+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>oggi poche parole, solo un immagine. la mia tisifone :)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109618569993030910/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109618569993030910' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109618569993030910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109618569993030910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/oggi-poche-parole-solo-un-immagine.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109610288297236050</id><published>2004-09-25T10:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T11:01:22.973+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>mi sta scivolando tutto via... sento la vita, le persone e le passioni che mi sfiorano e lentamente mi superano, anche quelle che credevo più importanti...ieri sera ho deciso che voglio smettere di giocare di ruolo. non riesce a darmi più nulla. e voglio smettere di organizzare live, perchè sento che questo impegno non mi da abbastanza. e non è colpa di nessuno, sono io che voglio trovare altri </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109610288297236050/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109610288297236050' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109610288297236050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109610288297236050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/mi-sta-scivolando-tutto-via.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109601442298870234</id><published>2004-09-24T10:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T10:27:02.986+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>bip... bip... bip...poca attività celebrale oggi. troppe cose a cui pensare e il sistema è sovraccarico.un live di vampiri da organizzare e millemila scadenze.questa notte ho sognato una canzone ma ora mi sfugge. ufff.devo pulire i terrari.stanchezza. troppe notti agitate.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109601442298870234/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109601442298870234' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109601442298870234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109601442298870234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/bip.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109592422629987120</id><published>2004-09-23T09:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T09:23:46.300+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>che mondo disperato. è brutto quando ti accorgi che chi è più vicino a te in realtà non ti capisce assolutamente, non ti conosce assolutamente, talmente preso da se stesso da non riuscire ad osservare i moti del tuo animo.le tasse dell'accademia non accennano a diminuire. che tristezza.e io continuo a lavorare regolarmente e a non avere neanche il tempo di mettere da parte un po' di soldi.e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109592422629987120/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109592422629987120' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109592422629987120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109592422629987120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/che-mondo-disperato.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109575752725902036</id><published>2004-09-21T10:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-21T11:05:27.260+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>risveglio con il singhiozzo. ieri sera ho avuto la soddisfazione dei miei primi soldi guadagnati con la santa pazienza di stare appresso a dei bimbi... beh sono soddisfazioni. ho appena letto l'ultimo post del blog del folletto pook (il link è qua accanto, fateci un salto) e mi ha fatto molto riflettere: su quanto ogni cosa abbia una fine. e sui ricordi, sul passato e sull'andare avanti, o stare </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109575752725902036/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109575752725902036' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109575752725902036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109575752725902036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/risveglio-con-il-singhiozzo.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109567010566744535</id><published>2004-09-20T10:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-20T10:48:25.666+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>giornata dagli orari improbabili. lavoro fino a mezzanotte, che cosa snervante.in questi giorni mi sveglio regolarmente incazzata nera per i torti subiti nell'ultimo mese.è faticoso svegliarsi incazzata ogni giorno, è una cosa che detesto, poi dalle incazzature particolari si muta tutto in un'incazzatura generica nei confronti di tutto il mondo, non riesco più a tollerare nulla e vorrei che </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109567010566744535/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109567010566744535' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109567010566744535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109567010566744535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/giornata-dagli-orari-improbabili.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109559183200222182</id><published>2004-09-19T13:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-19T13:03:52.003+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>oggi il mio pc ha i criceti dentro... dovrei formattarlo da mesi ma ancora non ho trovato un'anima pia che mi venga ad aiutare a farlo... uffa. sembra che stia guarendo, ma non so se è un'illusione o l'effetto di massicce dosi di vivin c.sono appena sveglia e mi sento stanca, sarà colpa dei sogni faticosissimi che faccio ogni notte.oggi ho poche parole, non so perchè.sto ricominciando a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109559183200222182/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109559183200222182' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109559183200222182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109559183200222182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/oggi-il-mio-pc-ha-i-criceti-dentro.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109550136845110781</id><published>2004-09-18T11:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-18T11:56:08.453+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>mio dio che raffreddore insopportabile. mi sento tutta attappata, come se fossi un grande blob informe dal naso in su... accidenti, e proprio in questi giorni in cui avrei millemila cose da fare. e la pila dei piatti da lavare è sempre più alta... voglio una lavastoviglie... e anche se non c'entra in cucina la metterò in mezzo al salotto come gesto pop :Pieri notte ho sognato le mie vite </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109550136845110781/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109550136845110781' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109550136845110781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109550136845110781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/mio-dio-che-raffreddore-insopportabile.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109541065429354199</id><published>2004-09-17T10:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-17T10:44:14.293+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>che agghiacciante risveglio. brera sta implodendo, de filippi è impazzito e ha istituito tasse scolastiche degenerate e assolutamente lontane anni luce dal mio portafoglio. che fare? una bella dose di C4 sotto il suo culo? sono imbestialita e nulla potrà riportarmi alla calma. uffa.ho un mal di pancia enorme. la giornata è uggiosa e la casa in disordine. troppe cose che remano contro la mia </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109541065429354199/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109541065429354199' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109541065429354199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109541065429354199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/che-agghiacciante-risveglio.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109533494291704589</id><published>2004-09-16T13:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-16T13:42:22.916+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>è iniziato l'inverno a milano. ormai l'autunno non viene più considerato. le foglie cadono nel giro di due giorni e poi comincia a diluviare. che tristezza. passare dalla t-shirt al maglione nel giro di due giorni. e io sono pure freddolosa. oggi mi sono svegliata e non mi sono fermata un attimo. oggi prevedo che non mi fermerò un attimo, e questa sera me ne vado a pattinare sul ghiaccio... è una</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109533494291704589/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109533494291704589' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109533494291704589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109533494291704589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/iniziato-linverno-milano.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109523710936683367</id><published>2004-09-15T10:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-15T10:31:49.366+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>buongiorno mondo. oggi va un po' meglio dentro di me. sarà il profumo dei capelli puliti che è una delle cose più confortanti al mondo, oppure semplicemente il fatto che alzo le spalle quando qualcosa non va come vorrei... ieri sera debellato attacco di formiche al terrario del mio geko e scoperto quello che sarà il mio lavoro ideale ART ATTACK! ho scoperto di avere questa enorme predisposizione </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109523710936683367/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109523710936683367' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109523710936683367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109523710936683367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/buongiorno-mondo_15.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109515418905965278</id><published>2004-09-14T11:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-14T11:29:49.060+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>detesto essere sepolta dai problemi pratici... devi comprare le camole e i grilli per il geko, devi pulire i terrari, c'è la pila di piatti da lavare, la bolletta da pagare in banca, il pc da formattare perchè devastato da un virus del cazzo... troppe cose...perchè la vita non può essere più semplice? tutto questo complicarsi viene sempre dall'attitudine al possesso... se non avessi 5 rettili in</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109515418905965278/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109515418905965278' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109515418905965278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109515418905965278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/detesto-essere-sepolta-dai-problemi.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-109506816778552171</id><published>2004-09-13T11:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-09-13T11:36:07.786+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sembra che il ritmo di questo blog continui a rimanere in qualche modo mensile... ci vuole tempo perchè i pensieri si stratifichino abbastanza nella mia mente fino ad arrivare al livello in cui fremono sulla punta delle dita.mi ritrovo ad aver perso tutti i miei ideali, a ritrovarmi a vedere la vita per quello che è,  senza nessuna poesia. a vedere gli esseri umani per quelli che sono. siamo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/109506816778552171/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=109506816778552171' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109506816778552171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/109506816778552171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/09/sembra-che-il-ritmo-di-questo-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-108928907894224504</id><published>2004-07-08T14:11:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T14:17:58.943+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sembra che sia il mio destino svegliarmi mentre tutti gli altri continuano a dormire. sarebbe scenico se mi svegliassi alle 6 di mattina, e allora tutto il mondo dormirebbe intorno a me. invece lo faccio alle 13.30, sembra tardi, ma non per chi vive da vampiro e sta sveglio in vagheggiamenti tutta la notte, e poi decide che l'unico buon motivo per svegliarsi alle 15 è vedere buffy. se il </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/108928907894224504/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=108928907894224504' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108928907894224504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108928907894224504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/07/sembra-che-sia-il-mio-destino.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-108729506475832596</id><published>2004-06-15T12:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-06-15T12:24:24.760+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>risveglio infelice oggi. casa sottosopra, mille cose da fare. tutto sembra che si allontani da me, tutti sembrano allontanarsi da me. in un eterno grandangolo, irreversibile, mi sento scollegata da ciò che mi circonda, mantenuta umana solo dall'abitudine mentale di cercare di ricordarmi cosa dovevo fare oggi... impegni? scadenze? miseri tentativi di recuperare denaro (vile denaro)... così forse </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/108729506475832596/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=108729506475832596' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108729506475832596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108729506475832596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/06/risveglio-infelice-oggi.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-108564819804323019</id><published>2004-05-27T10:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T10:56:38.043+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>che brutto. quando ti svegli per consolarti con tè e biscotti e i biscotti sono degli amarissimi biscotti del lydl. a 75 centesimi al chilo, perchè nell'ultimo mese non è che ti sei potuta permettere di meglio. ma sono terribili. amarissimi e con un retrogusto di bruciato. meglio farmi due unti pancake al volo allora. e che peccato, cozzare contro la dolcezza infinità del tè di natale. un </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/108564819804323019/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=108564819804323019' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108564819804323019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108564819804323019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/05/che-brutto.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-108522458294436515</id><published>2004-05-22T13:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T13:16:22.943+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>risveglio coadiuvato da un consolante te natalizio (te' nero e varie spezie, per illudersi che fuori nevica invece di fare 30 gradi all'ombra... a maggio).nella costante danza della vita, che a volte somiglia ad un minuetto isterico, compagni e amici si allontanano trascinati via da una folata di astio... quanto è dura mantenere dei rapporti interpersonali sereni quando sei nevrotico perchè non </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/108522458294436515/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=108522458294436515' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108522458294436515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108522458294436515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/05/risveglio-coadiuvato-da-un-consolante.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-108507250604020448</id><published>2004-05-20T18:48:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T19:01:46.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>risveglio lento e tardo oggi, mille quadri da fare, incisioni pure e prima o poi riuscirò a partire per una mondo lontano... we'll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide, I'll build a wall and we can keep them on the other side...leggo il racconto di pook e mi ricorda di giorni lontani e passeggiate sotto la pioggia.il sole è alto, il mio morale oscilla... ci sono canzoni che ti</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/108507250604020448/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=108507250604020448' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108507250604020448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/108507250604020448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/05/risveglio-lento-e-tardo-oggi-mille.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-107926221783899634</id><published>2004-03-14T12:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-03-14T12:06:51.700+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>good morning milano... risveglio a casa mia, in una domenica mattina ormai inoltrata. ieri sera ho presenziato ad un live di vampiri alquanto deludente, aimè... e io che pensavo potesse essere quello che risollevava il mio morale... alla fine mi sono ritrovata con i miei soci a ponderare se era più stiloso far esplodere l'elisium con una fuga di gas o cospargendolo di benzina... ma queste sono </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/107926221783899634/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=107926221783899634' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107926221783899634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107926221783899634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/03/good-morning-milano.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-107852311050702936</id><published>2004-03-05T22:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-03-05T22:50:42.543+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>quanto sono rare le volte che scrivo su questo blog... sporadiche. oggi sono andata a ritrovare un vecchio blog che ora è stato abbandonato, la cronaca di un amore letterario...  mi ricordo dei giorni in cui anche io ero attraversata da tali desideri... mi ricordo le lacrime di fronte allo schermo (con una parte di te che si sentiva terribilmente stupida)... e ora che scrivo... tutto quello che </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/107852311050702936/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=107852311050702936' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107852311050702936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107852311050702936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/03/quanto-sono-rare-le-volte-che-scrivo.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-107425898082555652</id><published>2004-01-16T14:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T14:18:14.920+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>buongiorno mondo. per l'ennesima volta mi risveglio in una casa non mia, evidenza della cronicità del mio non riuscir a dormire da sola. di la qualcuno guarda beautiful (e qui c'è del folle:ieri la mia sveglia è stata la siglia dei simpson, ascoltata rarefatta da sotto le coperte, oggi gli sproloqui di brooke). la mia vita si muove su una spirale discendente, ormai ho perso conto dei giri (o dei </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/107425898082555652/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=107425898082555652' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107425898082555652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/107425898082555652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2004/01/buongiorno-mondo.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-106700174907826660</id><published>2003-10-24T15:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2003-10-24T15:22:29.120+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ah wanna tell ya 'bout a girlYou know, she lives in room 29Why... Why... that's the one right up top a mineAh start to cry, Ah start to cryO Ah hear her walkin'Walkin' barefoot cross the floor-boardsAll thru this lonesome nightAh hear her crying too.Hot-tears come splashin on downLeaking thru the cracks,Down upon my face, Ah catch'em in my mouth!Ah catch'em in my mouth!Ah catch'em in</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/106700174907826660/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=106700174907826660' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106700174907826660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106700174907826660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2003/10/ah-wanna-tell-ya-bout-girl-you-know.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-106665489530411879</id><published>2003-10-20T15:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2003-10-20T15:01:35.456+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>apro la mia testa e il primo pensiero è:cosa sarebbe la mia vita senza letteratura?intesa come letteratura del vivere.fare una scelta non in base a quanto razionalmente e apparentemente è migliore o peggiore per me, più meschinamente "in base a quanto mi fa comodo", ma farla invece, in base alla qualità estetica della cosa, alla sua poesia nello svolgersi, anche se poi si potrebbe rivelare la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/106665489530411879/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=106665489530411879' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106665489530411879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106665489530411879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2003/10/apro-la-mia-testa-e-il-primo-pensiero.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-106612865206093285</id><published>2003-10-14T12:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2003-10-14T12:52:45.750+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Come in, babeacross these purple fieldsthe sun has sunk behind youacross these purple fieldsthat idiot-boy in the corneris speaking deviated truthscome on, admit it, babeit's a wonderful lifeif you can find it...speak our secret into your handsand hold it in betweenplunge your hands into the waterand drown it in the seathere will be nothing between us, babybut the air that we </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/106612865206093285/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=106612865206093285' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106612865206093285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106612865206093285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2003/10/come-in-babe-across-these-purple.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-106595382642660403</id><published>2003-10-12T12:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2003-10-12T12:19:22.653+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>12. Lunga è la durata del mio viaggio e lungo il cammino. Sono uscito sul carro del primo raggio di luce e ho viaggiato attraverso la selvaggia vastità dei mondi, lasciando le mie orme su molte stelle e pianeti. Il viaggio più lontano è quello che ti avvicina a te stesso e l'addestramento più intricato è quello che prepara una melodia di semplicità assoluta. Il viandante deve bussare a ogni </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/106595382642660403/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=106595382642660403' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106595382642660403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106595382642660403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2003/10/12.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918737.post-106570551882718336</id><published>2003-10-09T15:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2003-10-09T15:18:38.810+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>alla fine mi sono fatta convincere... inizio con il mio blog.template momentaneo.datemi il tempo di pensare a cosa scrivere,adesso ho le dita gelate.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/feeds/106570551882718336/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5918737&amp;postID=106570551882718336' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106570551882718336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5918737/posts/default/106570551882718336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://1882.blogspot.com/2003/10/alla-fine-mi-sono-fatta-convincere.html' title=''/><author><name>G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01241490996554994453</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
