Today I attended a concert. Classical music at the Milan Conservatory. I was invited last minute and I could not say no. It was a concert of the festival MiTo led by Diego Matheuz, Director of Orchestra of Venezuela, of 25 years, just one more than me. A student of Abbado, so to speak. The hall was packed with people, and the atmosphere seemed positive. Honestly, I'm not a lover of classical music. In short, I have the basics, if I speak of movements and andante allegro vivace or I can nod convinced the pundits as if I were on duty, but if you ask me to name this author of this work or mumbled something while I walk away with doing seconded. Now, the concert program featured three songs. The first was the ' overture to Rossini's William Tell . Yes, maybe, I do not know, I heard. Here, yes, I had heard, and how. It 'was the ringing of my phone when I was 14. It 'was one of the pieces that I loved most of Fantasia. But see him live, follow the hands of the Director, the musicians accompany the body with the tool, see them crouching just before attacking, even if they were chasing cats, well, it was like an orgasm. An orgasm about 12 minutes, about half of the orgasm middle of a pig. So while I enjoyed with tears in their eyes to what humanity is great, I was reminded of the pigs and the question I always do about their epic orgasm: But it is proportionate to the embrace? For if the dear Mr Pig can barely get in and then stays there with a face like a prick like " Jizz in My Pants" for more than twenty minutes, well, frankly that is not envy him that much. However, while I was there to have a hearing but also visual orgasm (I'll be strange, but my favorite thing in a gig like that is to follow the musicians with his eyes for a moment before they begin to play) and I thought the pigs, I remembered that today YOU told me that yes, he started going to bed with her new boyfriend. And I got a pang in my heart, I drove out with vehemence. So I decided to keep track of all the times I feel a pang in my heart thinking of her and him in the throes of lustful pleasures. Are 11, according to latest polls. It is not so bad. The dense core are controlled and improvised, not constant and more destructive. I am healing, perhaps. But I still need her, or in utilitarian terms (if you do not study with the cocks I graduate) and affective (Shit, after all, is still the pivot around which the wheel) and then I still see it every day all day. And do the things we did before, without sex or basins. And I continue to cuddle and pamper. I admit, sometimes I feel a little ' serf but the affront with a smile. This month ends, you will have the verdict on my academic career, positive or negative, and then comes the RESET. What will I do not know, but I'm excited and curious.
- You want me to put a broom in the ass, so you sweep the room?
Faso "serfs" - Elio e le Storie Tese
0 comments:
Post a Comment