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StumbleUpon - cafefernandos web site reviews and blog
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7:21am
59 reviews
stumblers
•http://cafefernando.stumbleupon.com/
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Uhh I was looking for that recipe.
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I waited for you yesterday since morning by Arseny Tarkovsky at Old Poetry
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Jul 22, 9:43am
1 review
poetry
•http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/52009-Arse...
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"No word for comfort, tears undried."
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Spartacus Script - transcript from the screenplay and/or Stanley Kubrick movie w…
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Jul 14, 7:50pm
1 review
ancient-history
•http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_sc...
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Excerpt from Spartacus Script
"When the blazing sun hangs low in the western sky...
When the wind dies away on the mountain...
When the song of the meadow lark turns still...
When the field locust clicks no more in the field...
And the sea foam sleeps like a maiden at rest...
And twilight touches the shape of the wandering earth...
I turn home.
Through blue shadows and purple woods...
I turn home.
I turn to the place that I was born...
To the mother who bore me and the father who taught me...
Long ago, long ago... Long ago.
Alone am I now, lost and alone, in a far, wide, wandering world.
Yet still when the blazing sun hangs low...
When the wind dies away and the sea foam sleeps...
And twilight touches the wandering earth...
I turn home."
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Fitness hundred years ago [8 PICS] : 1dak.com ||||
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Jul 14, 12:20pm
3 reviews
health
•http://1dak.com/other/fitness-hundred...
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Cok guzel.
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Jesse S. Clark Studios
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Jul 11, 12:40pm
2 reviews
recording-gear
•http://www.jsclarkstudios.com/video10...
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Tekduzeyimnetekduzeyimnetekduzeyimamabilmiyorsunnetekduzeyim.
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Film / Event Details
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Jul 8, 9:21pm
1 review
filmmaking
•http://www.sundance.org/festival/film...
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"Purgatory?"
"Purgatory is kind of like in-betweeny one."
"You weren't really shit, but you weren't all that great either."
"Like Tottenham."
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I'd better watch Six Shooter again too:)
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Jul 8, 9:09am
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"Come, Gilbert," whispered Ariadne, and I followed her through the shafts of orange moonlight and descended with reverence deep into the bowels of the THE E(ROT)IC POTATO. There, in the darkness, I observed once again the milkwhite miracle of her ovipositor; but this time the organ was not withdrawn.
And then every dawning genetic tremor I had ever felt was finally fulfilled, not once, not twice, but a thousand times! A million times! A thousand million times! I quivered to very quick of my being; I surrendered, fragmented, melted in the molten intolerable pleasure of it and dissolved to pure nonbeing, wrapped in shattering slithering Ariadne and sinking deeper and ever-deeper into the glow and pulse of the degeneration intestine of the E(ROT)IC POTATO.
Later, still intoxicated, I lurched out, creamed and filmed with the eggy juices of insect love, and crawled away to lick my wings. The dull buzz of Eternity roared warmly through my grained and sated body, and I knew I was changed forever. As the moon sank to the horizon and the first brown rays of a new day probed the eastern sky, I knew I had finally become a fly."
From Blood and Water
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The instincts in insects are very similar to humans, especially in those summer nights. I love Patrick McGrath's stories.
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*Felicia Luna Lemus*
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Jul 5, 1:16pm
1 review
writing
•http://www.felicialunalemus.com/
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"Bookishness rocks!"
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The White Whale
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Jul 5, 11:38am
6 reviews
history
•http://www.thenation.com/doc/20080714...
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"Albert Einstein once said that even the most perfectly planned democratic institutions are no better than the people whose instruments they are. I would translate his remark this way: the President we get is the country we get. With each elected President the nation is conformed spiritually. He is the artificer of our malleable national soul. He proposes not only the laws but the kinds of lawlessness that govern our lives and invoke our responses. The people he appoints are cast in his image. The trouble they get into, and get us into, is his characteristic trouble. Finally, the media amplify his character into our moral weather report. He becomes the face of our sky, the conditions that prevail."
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Jul 3, 9:57am
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Metin Altiok
WIND
A ghostly child
Seems to run and run
Through the dust,
Leaving a trail.
The wind draws wide ellipses,
Erasing what it drew.
He climbs on to his horse,
That dry branch of willow,
Bouncing along
In a transport of joy.
The wind draws wide ellipses,
Erasing what it drew.
Quite lost in his game
He goes full speed ahead;
His slender body
Conquering the plain.
The wind draws wide ellipses,
Erasing what it drew.
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