Friday, December 31, 2010

Wedding Sample Vote Of Thanks

Fragments 1943-1962 S. Burroughs, Blade Runner (a movie), 1979

The best way to expedite the corpse of 2010, it will still speak to you, with a breakthrough ahead of the first great book of 2011. A book in which obsessively returns to the word ... "Alligator." A rare book, written in 1979. A short novel by William Burroughs envisioned as a screenplay. His vision of what will be New York in 2014: A city under water, delivered to alligators and dealos, epidemics of smallpox, leprosy and cancer. The paranoia of some coming knocking on the door of the panic of others. Proliferation, everywhere. Its title alone is a dream: Blade Runner (a movie) . Ridley Scott will sting him for his film from 1983, adapted from another big paranoid Philip K. Dick. This expression of Blade Runner, Burroughs had himself borrowed, and with it some situations, an author of science fiction needy but honest, Alan E. Nourse. This novel SF Station 1974 signed Nourse, The Bladerunner , Burroughs was sampled, repeated, exaggerated, rewritten (cut-up, it will be seen more clearly on reading this book, never contamination was a technical writing by writing). He has injected some viral systems of choice, these bacilli are rotten juice language, the sharper and is yellowish. Say 33.
It has marked on the images of disaster, queers doors slide and doctors illegal, all sense of disorder of a civilization photographed in full collapse. There are mainly injected throughout his ruthless sense of humor. There is nothing that does more fear than laughter Burroughs. It strikes everywhere, constantly. It causes all sorts of exaggeration. It has something contaminated. I still do not know what a smile have alligators. It

Tristram who publish this text January 6 ... the ones who were baptized in 1992 their only voice cd writers the Alligators smiling. Everything fits. Do not think however that the publicity would the door blade is novel in French ... He had already been published once, in a translation of the great Sylvie Durastanti was inside a book group, handsome, most (but unfortunately exhausted in print), the Anthology Film invisible , edited by Jean-Michel Place, 1995 - we will speak of that one soon, I promise.
Meanwhile, a few leprosy and violence, ending the year in style - or start in the crash.

"Billy in the subway. Flooded tunnels of lower levels have become canals. The bulk of supplies from New York travels here by boat and by steam engines and trolleys to the next level. The stations are now lit by skylights markets reinforced glass. Their stingy light gray blends into the dark ink dark tunnels and canals. Here, light is a valuable resource that should be preserved and protected. A man lights his torch for a moment and shadows resemble all sides. He draws his pistol: "Hands off my light, crevures. "Gangs
sell a diesel electricity generated by smuggling generators subway. The competition is tight and gang warfare is permanent. Lower Manhattan is often without electricity. Dynamo torches are in high demand and sell for $ 200. Billy
through the stalls and futures markets for flowers. A pack of wild dogs tumbling of a dark tunnel. The sonic gun Billy the helpless and they piss on terror. The blade holder outpace the sprint and then stop a gondola. They give an address.
"It's my old hero of fourgueur. Deale it pop, now, what I said. "
carbide lamp on the prow of the gondola. Alligators sliding out of subway stations and sink into the dark water that crack shark fin ... Straight ahead, a light: a flare illuminates a private jetty. The dealer has dug a bunker by shooting down the walls of a number of counters and lavatories.
He shakes his head sadly with a hideous smile Italian ... "If it was the hero, blues and even pop ... but the B-23 ... I work! Barrez you, it would be better. "


William S. Burroughs, The blade holder (Blade Runner, a movie, Blue Wind Press 1979) translated by Bernard Sigaud, Tristram, 2011

Thursday, December 30, 2010

No-cd Morrowind Bloodmoon




Thai Chicken with Basil


This is a traditional Thai recipe called Gay Phad Bai Krapao either:
fried chicken Basil
For 2 persons:
400 g chicken breasts, cut into tablespoon cubes2. tablespoons sunflower oil or peanut oil 3 tablespoons
. tablespoon chopped garlic 3 tablespoons finely
. tablespoons finely chopped shallots 2 small
chillies, green or red
2 tsp. tablespoons fish sauce 2 tablespoons
. Coffee
soy sauce 1 tsp. coffee sugar
a large handful of chopped fresh basil, Thai or ordinary

- Cut the peppers in half lengthwise, remove seeds and cut into small pieces.
- Heat a wok. When very hot, Pour 1 tsp. tablespoons oil. Add chicken and stir constantly over fairly high until chicken is well browned (about 6 minutes).
- Remove chicken from wok and set aside on a plate.
- Heat the wok and add the remaining oil. Add garlic and shallot and stir constantly for 2 to 3 minutes.
- Put the chicken in the wok and add peppers, fish sauce, soy sauce and sugar.
- Stir constantly over high heat until the liquid is reduced (about 3 minutes), the chicken should be coated with caramel sauce and like.

- Add the basil, then Serve with rice or salad.

Recipe Scally's blog it myself to the fact ! "

Wedding Gifts Prefer Cash

Quote

"Each of those he took aim at the largely deserved .
On the other hand, it could be funny, tender and mild, most often when least expected. He was a man with some very diverse, often contradictory, and memories that have kept people who approached naturally depends on that of those aspects they have experienced. As someone expressed it: how a man who inspired so much love and loyalty, he could be such a bastard?
is an interesting question. "

Nathaniel Benchley, Life and Death of Humphrey Bogart , Lherminier, 1979

Headaches And Flashes

William Eggleston, Horses and Dogs, 1994

William Eggleston is a dog. When he was asked about his art, in good Southerner he says he takes photographs less than the average human on this earth. He prowls into town, sees something he likes, take it. A picture only. Never both. The capture unique. No board contact for Eggleston - who will pretend that the majority of his photos were exposed (but few people know that the first person to be exposed, in Memphis, was the mother of Alex Chilton. This explains in part why Eggleston made some pockets of Big Star and is found to play piano on the cover of Nature Boy on Third / Sister Lovers ). He says to let go months without feeling the need to take a picture. His famous stormy nature had exhausted hordes of assistants (including one, Tav Falco, eventually prefer to rock). Him, would have us believe he cares, like the rest of it. Manure. Horses &
Dogs is a 1994 book, now rare, published in this incredible collection being at Smithsonian series (books flexible, sold price of a bottle of vodka, but inside they are drawn for a quality insolent). Eggleston has voluntarily chosen to subject themselves to the study that is no more: dogs and horses. Who would buy a book with pictures of dogs? Any arrogance Eggleston is summarized here, because you open the book and it was only a demonstration of total superiority over everything: space, matter, composition, light (obviously, this type of eyes that do not equalize the same way that we, he is a chromatic scale that is most acute).
He does not need to hide behind a screen of cynicism as Martin Parr. Humanism seems quite foreign to him. It is a kind of animal detachment. The space available to him, and he never doubted for a second that he had only to serve. Everything is a story of concentration.

When asked, as in Michel Drucker, why the dogs, he just responds, "They Seem To Be Everywhere." Gary Winnogrand him once confided you could make a good picture on anything. In this case, when taking pictures of dogs, horses, this "anything" is still out what remains of wilderness in a world that would harness all. Eggleston horses in their pens, look elsewhere. They dream of Appalachians. His dogs are divided into two breeds: those who wander are ready to bite. And those who pretend to be at home in this garden. Who knows what they are thinking really, how last revenge?
Physically, William Eggleston lot like William Burroughs. Even brittle elegance. Same nasal voice. The same pride of gentlemen farmers become, by force of circumstance, social parasites, with all that implies contempt assumed - that the last race taking advantage of an era without heroism. The interviewing once (and that's a funny kettle of fish to interview Eggleston: you talk, you furnish, and he condescends occasionally, pick up a sentence. If possible murders), he came to talk about Bob Dylan, with whom he has dragged a time. Finally ... talk ... he just swung as if it was a simple trapping buddy, "Bob is ok. "Oh? Is that all? ... Bob is ok ... William Eggleston is just a fucking asshole.

William Eggleston, Horses and Dogs , Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, 1994.