Thursday, February 25, 2010

Characteristic Of Cm Just Before Menstruation

Management Training

"No, this is not. Just wrong, "and shook his head, to reiterate a relentless trial. He walked over and peered all'omone by walking around to capture every detail, every detail. The big man, clumsy and awkward, caught in a heavy dark wool jacket allowing a glimpse of an old flannel shirt and rural Scotland, he was standing, legs burdened by excessive weight, the center of a hall furnished with cold and current sobriety. Large windows that gave, from above, a modern city, long sofas and dark, so much steel, lacquered wood, abstract paintings, books scarce. After all, what are the books in the age of technology? Little: the screens, those are necessary, and there were, variety. Long and flat, set on the walls or suspended, as if floating on the shelves. L 'implacable landlord was impeccable in his elegant gray suit Dark signed. Signed by who? By someone, someone who costs. But he was, the big man, the protagonist, with his old flannel shirt and his boots, a veteran of distant times terragni muddy and dusty.
"No - the perfect shots - just not right. You should change your wardrobe: these are not dressed as manager. And then - tapped with the back of the hand dell'omone fat, fat and pregnant panelle friselle and mozzarella - you will need to lose a few pounds. Many pounds. Please sit down " e gli indicò una poltrona di pelle nera dall’erto schienale al cospetto della vasta scrivania.
L’omone si sprofondò e l’elegante, preso possesso della sua poltrona ancora più erta, aprì un quadernino mentre sfilava dal taschino la sua Mont Blanc.
«Vediamo – cominciò – In quale settore opera?».
«Ma io veramente non sugnu dutturi» si difese l’omone.
«Settore di attività – spiegò pazientemente - Lei di cosa si occupa? Che lavoro svolge?».
Impacciato e vago, l’omone cominciò con la destra a tracciare immaginari cerchi sulla scrivania nero laccata. «Io veramente m’arrangio. Cose, insomma… One thing here, one there. "
"For example?".
'Shops, markets .... "
"Ah, then she is in retail?".
"Where Sugnu I?".
"In retail trade, as they say in Italian. Do you speak English? ".
"I have relatives in New York. I have sent us a few years ago, for a service.. "
"But not the master - he wrote a note on quadernino - We provide a full intensive ... And tell me, is in the food or non food? In the clothing? ".
"Eh?".
"His business, operating in the food or not? Apparel, maybe?.
"Well ... what is there. '.
"Various retail, so. It has many businesses? ".
"But I really, dealers hold ...."
"You are therefore not directly involved with sales?".
"No, no. More on the sellers.. "
"And the sellers, what do you propose? Services? Advice, tips? ".
"Well, yes, something like that.."
"So you are a Consultant, a Consultant Retail Various.."
"Oh yeah."
"I would say yes, I'd say this is your business.."
"Talia ... And I wonder What I believe .... "
"And, look, for a better focus, what kind of services do you propose?".
"There ... We mind you, we give protection .... "
'Insurance, then. Insurance. Against fire, theft, damage? ".
"Well, yes, we assure you. We ensure that there will be no fire.. "
"I understand. Acting on behalf of various companies or .... "
"But you say, Doctor! Only on behalf of my family. "
"So you're not a broker, is configured more like an agent?".
"If you say so, Doctor."
"You work on a national scale?".
"What?".
"She offers her services in various regions of Italy or ...."
"But what you say, Doctor! In my neighborhood, just in my neighborhood. How veriddio never left my neighborhood, never! But who tells you these things, Doctor? ".
"Local oriented - in fact - So Various Retail Insurance Agent & Consultant - he wrote two more lines on quadernino - I think we have to add a course in Strategic Marketing - mused aloud, and perhaps ... Basic Economics - restart the hood of the Mont Blanc - And, look, there are other interests, as well as the commercial one, with which it deals?. Still
hands to trace circles on the desk. "Quarchi thing. Cement, homes .... "
"So you work in construction?".
'Puru destruction quarchi time. "
"So Real Estate, a wide range of services - even unscrewed the Mont Blanc and wrote again on a appuntino quadernino - I think for today, for this first meeting, to be sufficient.."
opened and closed the quadernino a broader agenda, a sort of recipe book. As he wrote, with messy handwriting and hasty, as if speaking to himself, "Well, let's see. I am writing the address of a gym and as a personal trainer for my confidence, ask him and he will take care of everything, even a farle contattare un dietologo – alzò gli occhi un momento per fissare l’omone – E’ importante, mi raccomando. – ritornando al ricettario – Questo è l’indirizzo di un negozio di abbigliamento, ci penseranno loro. Qui, invece, l’indirizzo di una scuola di formazione, finanziata dalla Regione, ho segnato inglese e altri corsi professionali… Basic Economics, Marketing, per cominciare.».
Riavvitò definitivamente la Mont Blanc, strappò il foglio di carta e lo consegnò all’omone «La voglio rivedere tra tre mesi. E voglio vedere già dei cambiamenti. Cominciando dalla linea. Prego… No, non dalla porta da cui è entrato, da questa. Dà direttamente sul pianerottolo. Allora, mi raccomando: tra tre mesi voglio vedere un’altra persona… Buonasera».
Richiuse la porta dietro l’omone e riguadagnò austero la sua scrivania. Scrisse ancora qualche appunto, scosse ancora la testa, meditò qualche attimo con la stanghetta degli occhiali in bocca e premette un tasto del telefono che aveva a fianco. «Signorina, prego, faccia passare l’altro signore».
Si alzò per accoglierlo e, appena lo vide si rese conto che avrebbe dovuto lavorare più del solito, perché l’omone appena uscito, al confronto di questo, pareva un fine e colto Lord Mountbatten. Straripava nella sua camicia. Tra un bottone e l’altro si formavano ampie and dilated ellipses that revealed a ribbed tank top whose color would certainly have involved a pathologist. Approached the man, planted in the doorway like a placid ox, but with an expression less smart, shaking his head.
"No, this is not. Diet - and test the belly - Clothing - and passed his hand on his jacket - all to change. And then - putting his hand in a pocket of pantalonacci velvet flared, baggy - can not go around with a knife. Still dirty, too, kid's blood.. "
"Dutturi, chiddu nun was crapettu nu, nu was cristianu.."




published on nunero 68 di u cuntu http://www.ucuntu.org/

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Lucy Liu And Lucy Lee

The Unsaid Letters (Letters unspoken)

Smooth sailing today. The currents took me towards the rising sun, east. The sea was calm, only some slight and monotonous ripples moved me up and down. I stumbled upon a bunch of sardines. Or perhaps they were anchovies? Never been able to distinguish them well. I was wrapped like a cloud, a frantic fog. I watched them closely, quicksilver, thousands, and then, suddenly, they swam away. Perhaps a bigger fish chasing? Or a strange call, incomprehensible to me, had attracted them somewhere else? I do not know: I didn't see anything, no big fish, no chaser. They disappeared and I found myself again in the endless blue. Nothing to report.

The sea is a bit rougher today: now I see the ripples of waves. They rise slowly, ripple at the top, become white foam and then descend. And on and on, for miles and miles, to die on a beach they don't know, a continent whose name is unknown. Nothing else to report.


Yesterday's little ripples have become a storm. There is not only the white foam on the top; everything is white, everywhere. The angry sea roars under a sky struck by dark rumbling thunders that give life to agile and fast lightning. And, as shaken by many hands, disorderly and chaotic, from right and left, the waves run towards each other, meet, collide, break and shatter into a myriad of projections. Water breaks the water, and the fragments are still falling into the water and become waves that grow, rise, break again and reform growing water again, breaking again until the storm ceases.

The sea has slowly become quiet. After two days the sky is as blue as the water again. Just a few little white clouds over there break the blue. I should not be very far from the coast: I see many different things around me. An olive branch, for example. Snapped because of the storm here, and there the wind uprooted branches that the rain brought down, down, sliding until the creek, and then through the torrent into the river, more calmly and with more strength, without boulders that impeded its movement, without loops in which it could get stuck, my branch was eventually led into the sea, and came here, near me. From the glass of the bottle, my house, I saw it move and almost touch me. I was almost wrapped up in its leaden, thick and tough leaves, which had resisted the seas and the years.

Look... next to me, not far from the olive branch, another bottle: the current has brought us closer. Amazed and astonished, I stared at her for a long time. She was there, gazing over the mist that fogged her and when it was cleared, she greeted me and smiled. I waved at her with my hand and she waved back, and a warmth I had long forgotten caressed and embraced me. So I greeted a second and a third time, and I think I looked like a puppet to the seagull flying above us in search of something alive to eat. And she, in response, began to greet me, made signs, but I did not understand what she wanted to say, except that she wanted to communicate with me. But how? We smiled at each other and she began showing me how to make an A. And so I made for her a B. She nodded vigorously, her face intent, corrugated and thoughtful, and showed me a C. I did not realize it at first, but then, thinking about it, I understood. I moved my hands again and, as far as the narrow space of the bottle allowed me, I suggested a D. It was not easy, perhaps she had another idea of a D in mind, but in the end we managed to understand each other. We both placed our hands on the glass. We could not touch, but I felt her close, as if the bottles did not exist, as if they were no longer a barrier. And then she started with an E, but that letter was not easy. I tried to understand what she meant, but every time I seemed to have grasped the meaning, it escaped me. Is it so? - I gesticulated - or rather in that way? And she nodded or denied at all my attempts, trying to get me to grasp the meaning of that letter. I thought I had finally, if not understood, at least grasped the meaning of her words. Then the sea swelled. The foam came back, delicate at first, almost a wreath on the waves, then more powerful, eating the blue. More waves formed, shy at first, then bigger and bigger until they became high, very high. And I was tossed again to and fro, up and down.

The storm has ceased. The endless blue is back, only a few white clouds in the sky. The water is calming down, but I can't see the olive branch, and the other bottle has been dragged elsewhere by her currents.

Smooth sailing today. My currents are carrying me into the setting sun, into the west. I look around and I try to spot her, leaning as I can, but I just can't see her. I don't think I understood the E, and I don't think I ever will. Nothing else to report.




Italian



Monday, February 15, 2010

Toy Sailboat Parts Characterize

The letters gave no

Navigazione tranquilla, oggi. Le correnti mi hanno portato verso il sole che sorge, verso est. Il mare era calmo, solo qualche lieve e monotona ondulazione mi levava e mi abbassava. Sono incappato in un branco di sardine. O forse erano acciughe? Mai riuscito a distinguerle bene. Mi hanno avvolto come una nuvola, una frenetica nebbia. Le ho guardate da vicino, argento vivo, a migliaia; poi, Suddenly, I ran away. Perhaps one of the largest fish chasing? Or a reminder to me incomprehensible to have attracted anywhere else? I do not know: I have not seen anything, no big fish, no chaser. They disappeared and I found myself again in the endless blue. Nothing to report.

The sea is a bit 'more moves, now I see the ripples of waves. Rise slowly, at the top ripple, they become white foam and then descend. And on and on, for miles and miles to get to die on a beach who do not know, a continent whose name is unknown. Nothing to report.

The small waves of yesterday have become storm. There is not only the white foam on top and everything is white, everywhere. The angry sea roaring in the sky struck by a dark rumbling thunder that calved agile and lightning fast. And, as a shock to many hands, disorderly and chaotic, from right and left-handed, the waves running towards each other, meet, collide, break and shatter into a myriad of projections. Water breaks the water, and the fragments are still falling into the water and waves are growing, mountain, break even and reforming water still growing and still not break until the storm ceases.

has run slowly calmed the sea. Past two days the sky is back blue like water. Just a few little cloud over there, break the blue in white. I should not be very far from the coast: I see many different things around me. An olive branch, for example. Dropped because of the storm that has generated a storm here and there, the wind has uprooted branches then the rain slid down, down, up the creek. This, then, opening in the river has brought down my arm to the river which, with more calmness and strength, without boulders that impeded without loops in which stuck, eventually led him to the sea and came here, near me. From the glass of the bottle, my house, I saw him move and touch. I was almost wrapped up, with its leaves leaden thick and hard, resistant to the seas and years.

Watch ... Next to me, not far from the olive branch, another bottle: the power has brought us closer. Amazed and astonished, I fixed a long time. It was there, and gazing over the mist that fogged and when he hath been lit greeted me, and I smiled. Hello I made with my hand and told me, and I forgot a warmth caressed and embraced. So I saluted twice, then three, and I think that looks like a puppet to the seagull flew over us in search of something living to eat. And she also, in response, began to greet me, made me signs, but I did not understand tell me what he wanted, except that he wanted to communicate with me. But how? We smiled and began showing her how to do A. And so was I to tell you the B. Nodded vigorously, her face intent, corrugated and thoughtful, and showed me the C. Not realized at first, but then, on reflection, inclusive. I sbracciai yet, as the narrow space of the bottle and allow me the proposed D. It was not easy, perhaps he had another idea in mind of D but in the end we managed to understand each other. Place both hands to the glass, both. We could not touch but it felt close, as if the bottles do not exist, no longer a barrier. And then she was starting with E, but a letter was not easy. I tried to understand what he meant, but every time I seemed to have grasped the meaning, that's escaped me. It 's so? - Gesticulating - or rather in that way? And she nodded or refusal to all my attempts, trying to get me to grasp the meaning of that letter. I thought, finally, to have, if not understood, at least understood the meaning of his words even when the sea swells. He returned to the foam, at first delicate, almost a wreath at the waves, then more assertive, to eat the blue and light blue. There are waves, shy at first, then more and more pronounced until it becomes high, very high. And I was still sballottolato and fro, up and down.

The storm has ceased. E 'returned the endless blue and white, still, only a few cloud in the sky. The waters are calmer, but I do not see the olive branch and the other bottle was dragged elsewhere, its currents.

smooth sailing today. My current carry me into the setting sun, to the west. I look around and I try, I lean to what I may, but just do not see it. I do not think you understand E, and I do not think I will understand more. Nothing to report.





Written listening to an old disco di Tom Kazas che non suonavo da lustri. Cercavo un’atmosfera eterea, calma e un po’ malinconica che desse il la a questo raccontino. Sulla mia pagina di Facebook alcuni link.

Pubblicato su La poesia e lo spirito





English version