Saturday, July 25, 2009

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Second excerpt from Codex



He had overcome a few hours earlier this overwhelming fear that grabs you by the throat, never to leave you at every step closer to you baffles, watchtowers and barbed wire border.

- Anyone who has passed a check point you can tell the same story. Before the first look on the other side of the wall is its nauseating effluvium, oppressive, who dazzles. The arrival in the world of communist slight stench. First, it is the sweetish odor of fat mixed with Kalashnikovs reeks of cigarettes, spicy or disgusting papirossa Belomorkanal that interfere non casemates Customs. Then came the attack on the stale air by burning coal, which prevents you already meet the shoulders and forces you to push your chin in col. Then it is the acidity of bleach and detergents that slight scent - heating oil - gasoline that has not quite burned in these small engines Trabans farting bad digestion. These are the fragrances last, a sudden and sharp flavors of West Indian spices from all these oriental restaurants for American tourists who have hatched since the partition, to the perfume of jasmine flowers municipal gardens.

He had awakened in me the buried memories of a time when I tried to save the world reply silly of my state of absolute love. I loved the daughter of a KGB officer. I was going to lose it soon.

Around him, the mist Berlin, the East. A dangerous shore, no romance, carved cliffs, those of Communism and bristling with barbed wire, born of a single decree Russian. The general's eyes were shining.

- When you had Charlie, you remember that, too? - You're in the middle of nowhere. It only needs the foghorn of a ship in distress to make it look hallucination of the infamous corner of a port side of the world in black and white.

I also remembered that feeling of emptiness in which all memories and all pleasures seemed banished. Even loving couples hiding and stumbling in the dark. The smell of death rising from the sewers that were not fully reconnected to the network after the general failure of the City. We lived a science fiction novel, the two planets are living in parallel dimensions.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

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Last Review Alibis and Patrick Friberg ... Excerpt from Codex






Review gender specialist, Norbert Spehner.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

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Society's Mirror ...

Stephen King, Graham Masterton, James Herbert and many others ... many authors have established themselves in a style often controversial, but fortunately tends to grow today, as long as it is quality of course. So I would like to allude to a Engineering thrill and horror in its contemporary nudity the most dastardly, Mr Stephen King! It was my introduction to reading when I was 16, the period when I I began to plunge his nose in books. Already I had a slight tendency for the disease because I was reading the famous book series "Goosebumps" was all the rage among teenagers and even children. Stories of werewolves, vampires and other demons of the night, and it was well written, my favorites were those of the author RL Stine. Then I turned to the heart of the matter with the King, and I began the steep slope with terrible child killer clown Derry (Ca) that had swept the body of a wave of terror without Previous to the point of not sleeping at night (Especially since I'm coulrophobe ...) and then I followed up with Pet Sematary (big disappointment), then Salem and his scary vampire or Cujo and his rabid St. Bernard. But the novel that will remain forever in the maze of my mind is Shining a psychological masterpiece that locks you into a pathological fear of infanticide, leads you into the depths of the human soul, in darkness madness.

In short, Stephen King for me is the undisputed master of this literary movement that has moved many people and generations still whole of readers, thrill seekers. It is not only words, it is mostly a virulent challenge today's society. Through the barbarity of his stories, King invites us to discover the horrible face of our world, to denounce members through that haunt our daily lives and the brutalization of the people by the media and new technologies (popular topic in the work of King in Running Man or Cellular). But in counterpoint to this, he encourages us to think about art in general and in particular the act of writing (number his plots are based on characters writers) with Lisey's Story particular, Rose Madder or The Dark.


So what else to say except that the literature of horror must not be désappréciée for the simple fact that she happens to run thousands of liters of blood, it boasts above all to hold power and electrifying claimant who breaks the taboo and we let ourselves into the shadows, those who help us find the light.
Rock'N'Roll Todd.

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Last



When we get old, "My Old Man ', we tell our wars and we then say, "if" we knew we were manipulated, or that the lips of girls do not all taste the strawberries Tagada ... Au'C death, Lefort! these sweet first kisses and first organized deception! I remember the "ugh" disgusted with my first love, like "come on!" Minister of initiating me to find myself alone with my responsibilities. We travel less and less with age, my friend, just because our suitcases of memories are increasingly heavy.

Friday, July 10, 2009

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Genetic manipulation is a real thriller about



Thursday, July 9, 2009

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Wall



"It had overcome this fear seeping in and grabs you by the throat, never to leave you at every step that you approach the baffles, watchtowers and barbed wire border.

Everyone have reached a check point you can tell the same story. Before the first glance at the gray on the other side of the wall is its nauseating effluvium that overwhelms you, the arrival in the world of Soviet stench, the smell of grease and those of Kalashnikovs burning coal that you choke. Those of bleach and detergents that slight scent of oil for gasoline too burned by the engines of Trabans. This, finally, a loss of flavor West, from Indian spices of oriental restaurants, to the scents of jasmine flowers. "

Sunday, July 5, 2009

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So soon ...

My first real article, I could not open it as a sign that music and current events, although the notes will remain rather dull, as I recall here the tragic deaths that come close the careers of these great artists, and can not leave us indifferent.




I mean of course Michael Jackson has left us there is little to leave behind the crowds of admirers sad and unfortunate. But far beyond the finding of a loss, I venture on land instead of death, that entity which deprives artists of the world's most gifted, most tortured.
Indeed, it would be better to link it to a kind of final glory, where the artist comes out of this world leaving behind a chaos of amazement that will leave its mark forever in people's minds, hence the term appropriate "legend."



This is true of all those singers who died prematurely, that continue to exist even more strongly than when they were alive. They are often tortured personalities and misunderstood, who, since childhood, known dramas or painful experiences (paternal humiliation for Jackson or car accident to Morrison) and from there develops a particular universe, to understand the limits of the media in batter crowd on the melancholic artists to extract all the rumors as crazy as each other. And this is the day of their death that this reappears as a ghost from haunting memories.



From overdose Kurt Cobain, through excessive drink rifles Jim Morrison, drug abuse Janis Joplin, the tragic accident Daniel Balavoine helicopter or the assassination of John Lennon (not to mention Bon Scott choked by his own vomit ...), so many tragic deaths (sometimes preposterous!) completing the career of an artist with success, and there is no contradiction there. Death gives an electrifying effect for the career of a singer or group, the legend was born. Thus, nowadays, the Doors, the Beatles or the work of Janis Joplin are part of this wave still rising, which is far from crashing against the rocks of oblivion. And that is our greatest happiness. Far from being a boundary and a barrier, death is a continuity in the life of an artist.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

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The first one ...

Back home, he bent under the assaults of wind
Never had he felt this melancholic breeze ago
Yet while he seems so familiar, in this enlightened world
For the sweet light of the sun sparkling clarity
Soon he will resume his pen and his words, pages and lines
To start live among infinite pages, out of the abyss ...
. R'n'R Earl Todd.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

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when blogs speak ... The