Poems To Make My Bf Horny

literary criticism

If I have learned early in my career writing one, then that the brains of people with regard to the things you do, react, how the dice. You polarisierst forever. Add criticize your friends, your pictures, your life, enemies appreciate them, sometimes the reverse is true and other times you'll ever be ignored. About 25 I started to write short stories because I wanted to do some day this hobby into my profession. I did not want to put my life in things like loser jobs, or money problems. I was often unemployed, which is both bad for the soul, on the other hand, well, if you write, because time is the order and on. Letter was kannz.B over the years as breathing for me, a man with writing urge. be drunk, not permanent. He just needs clarity. He needs words. I could then drink in my spare time so many have-not-not always, jogging, or fuck. Not that I would not have fucked. I fucked a lot. But if you do not run away toads an earlier or later, the women. So I
wrote and delivered my letter without it big to send to publishers, which vary Around the world, say, human brains. Al, who told me once that he was glad to understand nothing about art, pulled me out one day when I just on the couch sleeping off my noise, with a call sleep. I took off a hangover. It was three clock in the afternoon. "Be not angry with me Karl, but what you've written together, is shit."
I stared briefly against the dark wood ceiling in my deepest valley located attic. I had my bearings first. The living room looked as if a horde of chimpanzees lived in it.
I croaked: "How my"
"Well your novel. The three on the drunkard. Your drunk-novella. You and your two master's boy-friends. "
I remembered now what story turned it up and I had not forgotten that it had also given to one or two quite enthusiastic comments. The amendment was based on real events. "Ah, you mean the amendment Spenglomania." I picked up a bottle of vodka from the floor, eyeing her. A small amount spilled to the ground. In it floated a dead fly.
"Yes," complete shit, repeated Al. "What interests me your first youth then, and that you all come from dysfunctional family's? DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY! "
I drank the rest of vodka and spit the fly.
"This phrase I use?"
Al was such momentum that he's not on my counter-question was received.
"complete shit. Boring. And shit. "
" Someone told me she was "bubbly, I quoted one of the two enthusiastic. Al did not respond.
"I hope you do not mind if I do not give the thing to read my brother?"
Al, I was now on, the amendment had wanted to show his brother. "No, no. I have nothing against it. shit you can find it so. "
Yes," confirmed Al, "Especially with that of the fly. You describe a fly, as it revolves around your Suffbirnen, and circles and circles ... I mean, what's the point? The circles since a full half page long. This is shit. "
Here I had to think for a second, because I had my text not too clear at present.
"Ah. The fly. Exactly. I think it should express that Insects, at certain moments, have more going for, as young drinkers and loudmouths. "
" Does not matter, "Al shouted into the phone," this thing is crap. "
Yes, some they consider mediocre. Trixi, for example. "
" No, not mediocre. It is shit. "
I was gradually growing. I went naked as I was in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and gave me the phone between shoulder and cheek clamped a beer. After the first sip I was inclined to discuss. I said
Aha. Let me sum up. You mean the amendment is shit? Really, irrevocable, undeniable shit? " Without this casual aside
Fedehandschuh Al asked, "What can I do with the manuscript? I mean when hundreds of pointless wasted hours stuck in it. Shall I keep it or return it to you "
I was in possession of a copy and I said," Yes. No. You can burn it if it pleases you, "said a moment, Al
nothing, then". Yes? This joy would treat me? "
" With all my heart, Al. With all my heart. Shit is burning well. Especially when it is dry. And so my paper would have contributed to a slightly different kind of a joy. At a bonfire. "
" Ah, that was good. If the so you can see, Karl. But what else. Where were you in the last days? Did not reach you. "
" In Salzburg, at Trixi. Paula, her WG-mate was not there, we had the whole place for us. Went to the Rock House and so on. Were relaxed days. "
" You know better again with her what? "
" Yes, yes. But there is no sex. "
" Let any one who believes, "Al doubted.
"I know, Al. It's hard to believe. What are you doing today? Do you have free, or do you wait tables? "Actually, Al
nurses, but he sometimes worked as a waiter at the Innsbruck 11er house. "Do free," he said. "Since global warming is playing a Carinthian rock band. LIFE IN AGONY. The I will look at me. "
" I would like to stop by so once again, but I lack the wherewithal. "
" Work ", Al advised me dry.
"I write," I countered.
"Well," then, "said Al." See you "
Yes," I said. "See you later."
Al hung up. Slowly my mind began to spin the flywheel again. Since Al had just called. Instead of constructive criticism, he had felt impelled an expletive to repeat namely, "Shit," permanent. He had not told me what he wanted to know because now grouped under the expletive "shit": he found the style sucks, the punctuation was no tension there, he criticized the lack of depth, or really bothered him only this circular fly? As I said, the story was based on a true story and it could well be that the reality which she described was shit. As in his eyes. I summed up. The two enthusiasts found the text successfully. Trixi mediocre. Al and shit. "One wonders however," I muttered, shaking his head, "Who is really absurd: the writer, or his critics'

end

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Why Do I Get Infinity On Vuze

BUILDING

I was little 20 and slept still at home. For a week I worked in construction. Electrical installations. There was a large, multi-storey building shell and the two types, those in the van drove to Hall of Wörgl had eaten for years into the job in itself. This was seen in them.
The driver was a tall beanpole, who did not say much. His mind worked like the dull ticking of an old clock. The second was small, and behind glasses thick as Coke bottles flashed two psychopaths eyes. I was not sure if he sodomites, pedophile, or simply just mentally deranged was completely. The first two days were uneventful. We drove into the Tiefgearage, the beanpole worked somewhere else and I dragged the boy with whom I work, the honor had, tool boxes and cable reels afterwards. About railing loose concrete stairs, it went up to the 7th floor. Then we drilled and schremmten four hours. In the resulting holes and depressions, we moved and installed cable outlets. During the lunch break, I munched me to a quiet place where I could eat in peace my buns and drink my beer. Only the two do not have to see, not only have to talk to them, was my only thought. But I could not think. By Schremmer and drilling was cemented in my brain like. Zero, nada dead, a state that I experienced the first time. It seemed to experience more often not desirable. In the afternoon the same in green. Re-drilling, Schremmer, swallow dust, cables into holes to mount sockets. On the third day of the homecoming trip to the little rolled down the window and yelled repeatedly girl who went on the road behind piggish expressions, and then breaking out into a bleating laugh. Most girls did not respond, others looked confused. The little boy was one of those people who refuse to wash their hair or brush their teeth. He rolled his own cigarettes, spit tobacco crumbs after each train and its two smoking fingers were yellow. On the fourth day, he believed me, under the cable laying, having to tell his life story. It consisted mainly of an endless series of frustrating, unhealthy and underpaid jobs. I had listened in silence. This man interested me less, than this job. And that was saying something. On Friday morning, I trudged behind with tool box and the small cable reel on the concrete stairs, I knew that I would throw in the job. I was not going 20 to be a zombie. In the 7th floor I put down the stuff, and while the little one turned, I took the rest of Kramer from the garage. This time geschremmt only in the morning. In the afternoon, the cables were laid. This work was less strenuous, but basically the same monotonous and boring and crappy as the Schremmer. But, oh wonderful. My mind returned. Soon I was with my thoughts in my local pub. They had a new waitress there, which I pointed.
counter closing time I yelled the boy suddenly, because I had a cable plugged into the wrong pipe and the incorrect information with a hole. He was beside himself. His head was red, and flashed his eyes psychopaths. He yelled something about I was arrogant, I think probably what is better, and he was hot-tempered, and if I'm not careful, we soon had a wound. I pulled the plastic tube from the incorrect hole, and got the wrong cable from the plastic tube. I searched and found the right cable, the right tube and the fitting hole in the wall. So I thought the case does. But the boy did not stop crying. He got just are not produced. He was standing in the bare room and jumped and screamed like Rumpelstiltskin. Reluctance I had to grin. The first smile in this job. But one week-that was too little. The little boy looked at the grin and shot me.
"What is there to grin? You arrogant monkey, you arrogant monkey! "
In his hand he held a crowbar. I had no desire to reply, shook his head and went back to my cable. He grabbed my upper arm. I shook him off. "Hey, hey ...«, I said. He swung the crowbar, but in a reflex that surprised even me, but all too evident, I popped him one with the back of the hand. His glasses sailed against the concrete wall and broke. He proposed to me with the crowbar, but without his glasses he missed me smooth. He threw it away and jumped on me. We fell to the ground and wrestled with each other. He got hold of a cable and wanted me around the neck. But he was just too little, and finally he had the cord around the neck.
I went to. He choked. "Not not," he whispered.
His eyes stood out like a frog. I moved just a little bit and then let go. I got up and knocked me to the concrete dust from the pants.
"I catch you ... I get up ...«, gasped the Small and straightened up. I jogged loose by a few rooms and when I saw that he was not following me, I strolled comfortably down the concrete stairs. That was with the glasses have been my good fortune.
Before the shell I sucked the warm spring air deep into my lungs. Freedom! Redemption! I would stop to Wörgl and I approve of my favorite restaurant a few beers. Maybe the new waitress was there. I had gone barely three paces, when a 1000-gram hammer in front of me slammed on the concrete floor. I looked up. No one was visible.
I took the hammer and threw me a look. The electric company, whose logo was emblazoned on the handle, was to me for exactly one week's wages owed.
Fin

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