How Long A Brain Can Bleed For

Inheritance A blog and nothing more

Today I say goodbye. Some time ago I am no longer, but until today I feel a little owner of this beautiful union of friends around a blog that few fish, but many want. Nobody is taking me and I want to, but be honest: the last time I wrote here or the last time I wrote was a long time and corresponds to let the boys credit for keeping up this bastion of leisure and flows of emotion.

Just over three years, more or less, was born this space. One night at the home of the mother of Diego, in part to Ivan and me. The full name was Diego's idea and when I said I found it remarkable. The day was created and the three of us had a profile that we assumed humorous pseudonyms. Mine was not anything original, Lenin Peña Clinic was a character I liked reading so lost his speech and his romantic attitude. Ivan was Luxofracturado and Diego became Venous Caetano.

I was not hit, why not, and Diego was hit at times, so that soon we fatten the page with crap that I reread it now, have our later years. Ivan think I ever wrote something, but usually it was straw. I even remember that it pelábamos Diego for pajero and because we let it launched in our beloved revolution.

Know that this blog at least saw the light, not our classic television program. In fact, we even sat down and talked to the proposal to publish stories and send to a book. I am so happy. So I can tell my children that I wrote a book, because writing it just gives me straw.

Lovesickness, reflections, rage, leisure and endless anecdotes about all this space carved seasoned with our gloom premature. We are some old guys, or we were. We are old, straight. Always melancholy of our childhoods, our shortcomings, our student days, our loneliness ...

Infinite thanks to Caezón, whom I met from this little blog and now is the guitar of our new revolutionary edge. Stayed because of Caezón several times as the idiot who laughs out loud at the computer in the paste. Thanks to George, who wrote little, but it felt like. As Ivan. And thanks to Diego, of course.

partly wanted to leave this area because I want to somehow advance the melancholy remembrance of me in front of a computer and typing evade hits that made me happy writing. Here told my sister how much I love, here I reconciled with my brother. Here I asked my wife to marry me (modesty aside, weâ whore romantic).

Anyway, thanks and see you. A All this, thanks also to Mr. Cañulef conchesumadre and timely Klaus: "The Mapuche Machupo.

Can I Turn Into A Wolf By Saying A Spell?

The day I die

the day I die I want to be clear, to run wind, drizzle lightly, even a little bit. That day I wake up early to take advantage of last hours. I sit and read the newspaper, I look at my close and reach to say all the things I never dared to say. For example, that I admire his genius. The day I die I want to feel the cold on the skin, see the leaves fall and wear a long coat that reached to my ankles. I use two socks not to feel cold feet and walk with black shoes.

the day I die I want to tell me they love me, because it is rich to tell you that. I take the subway with a book under his arm, pay for my ticket and see a child smile, which hopefully will be another child, not mine. I do not want the day I die my children are small. Nor think it will live for many years, so I think the day I die is near, not by leaps and bounds, but getting close. I just hope not to be in the middle of my life, yet.

the day I die I want to be me who cry me cry. I want to say that I was a good guy who always wanted the best for his own, for all who deserve the best. I, too, that miss me. To look at my pictures, my presence is eternal. The day I die I hope to meet the unsung heroes, the one who saved her grandson burned to death and now have sores in silence. I also want to meet that great man who saved many lives before seeing itself evaporated. I want to be surrounded by grass, flowers and trees. I have room to roll around, to stretch, to sleep long.

The day I die will be a great day. Not for my death. It will be a great day because eventually no one will care my death. The day I die I want to see you one last time after so long to thank you for the experience. I want to plant another tree, seen feeding my pets. I want to kick a ball that reaches the goal, I count to ten and open our arms to feel the breeze. I sweat a lot, my face wet, jogging fifteen minutes, going out to buy bread, staring across the street on both sides and see you pass in the distance.

the day I die I want to play the guitar, listening to a sad song, I put my head in his hands and mourn in silence locked in the bathroom. I do not know that I will die, just want to die. Do not want to suffer physical pain, because I'll be funky until I die. I remember my mother and my father my brothers and my grandparents. I cherish the last time the spoon, which by now will be like the tenth Cucha. The day I die I will not be a hindrance, I will not be a burden or anything like that. I want the news was spread among my friends. I want them to feel my death as I feel theirs. I will always be a time to remember, because only then will make sense to die.

The day I buried it to be cloudy and cold. I do not want church speeches, speeches of my children want. I say "was a good chat (I stress the point), I want humanity to twist a bit before my departure, but a few days nobody will remember it. I, too, that day is a day after the day I die. Maybe I want to be cremated and my ashes will take them to oblivion. But we'll just decide the day I die.

Whats Use Of Cctv And Dvr

The betrayal of a friend

Lucho my cousin never left me paying. I had asked him because this gauchada Lucho, a goat of humble and respectable stature, besides being my cousin, my best friend. Always with me, accompanying me everywhere and acts with a responsibility I can not wait for anyone else. Lucho is, well, almost my brother. This time we were to get together where ever. I have so much confidence in it that even I bought a little juices start frothing. Lucho is that always came on time and, therefore, there was no room for boredom. That afternoon Luchito

failed me, he betrayed my trust, let me plunged in deep insecurity. He did not answer the phone I gave him and his house, no one knew about him. They said that last week there had been rare, timid, quiet, silent, mysterious. He had absorbed because he was lonely and abandoned. He said nothing, never complained. Except for a couple of times expressed some stomach pains to those who opted for them as unimportant. And it really did not.
Lucho
But that afternoon did not make the appointment. He sheepishly announced his arrival with great fanfare. I waited fifteen minutes and did not appear. Twenty either. Half an hour straight and I felt humiliated, as one who feels humiliated when a friend makes fun of you. I felt that my cousin's soul was laughing at me. I felt shame for such a grotesque lack of respect for who I considered a protege. I hit the wall of anger, tears dried on their quest to reach the cheeks.

My cousin called me two hours later. I had a nap to pass the sentence. He said I should understand it was an unavoidable problem that forced him to relegate for the first time. I listened in silence, trying not to hate, because when someone is unreliable, you fail is in the calculations. But when a person first you fail, it hurts in the soul. Lucho left me destroyed by her betrayal. To recover, he promised to arrive at 9 pm at the corner of Matta Viel, near Metro Parque O'Higgins. I was glad I got up and went swiftly.

I arrived five minutes earlier. This time also bought little juices. Luchito failed me once, of course, but could not hold both at the cousin who is paying for his studies, which takes her out, it entertains, that helps. I saw people go, buses, taxis. I saw a guy desperate run by a bus. I saw cars turn the corner, where the tires squeal ugly. Close saw local people appear more dubious. I saw traffic calming. Lucho again left me waiting. This time was not enough to have rabies. This time I just had trouble. From now on I will never certain whether Lucho reach your destination when you need their help. Now there is only uncertainty. "Sorry, I was just tired," he told me the next day. Lucho, I would rather you were dead.