Bloated Stomach Gaviscon

I've become


image file "Visible Human Project, the first full computer, three-dimensional anatomical and a corpse, courtesy of the National Library of Medicine U.S..

Before you start blogging about mono- Soft Power (the program of the 2010 edition is now online, so you have seen, what have you been?), A confession, as the title I have become necrophiliac. My new obsession is embodied in the text "Looking at a corpse," a guided tour (and eminently macabre) in the catalog of the art video distribution Hammock. And you start emphasizing texts of Donna Haraway and do not know where it ends. Watching


body
animals when they die, and do it anywhere: in the pan, in the bumper, on the soles of his shoes are dead no more: a dead crab, a dead bird dead snail, but dry dead, dead without category. Human beings, however, the death becomes a privileged status: the corpse. The theme the body has been widely discussed in the world of art, literature, cinema has inspired musical genres, subcultures and extreme sexual practices. But our relationship with him is still marked by the desire to eliminate it. From ancient civilizations to today, have developed techniques, the administrative machinery, little rituals, but little else. All mortuary Western culture is organized around a single goal. Settle the memory of that or yes of life that is its finitude, erasing traces of its most crude: the lifeless body of those who have gone the other way. I search the catalog

Hammock as a detective, looking cold cuts, or more accurately, seeking to unravel the visual treatment strategies thereof. If the most widespread are of a ritual, fiction and administrative, with the advance of modern technology and mechanical biomedical visualization, imaging, digital-analog and then the body, as we shall see, it begins to shed its materiality conditions to become data file. [Read]

Xerex Aubrey Miles 3gp

necrophiliac Herr Brandt's girlfriend

put ads in to rent my flat saying that seasonal soil feature has the enviable have unseen neighbors. There are sometimes taught the leg, we passed on the stairs or in the yard of waste, but do not talk. I've tried, and if one day I left the keys inside and I flooded the bathroom or is there an alien invasion and can not leave home anymore and we have to reinvent a life with more immediate human community those things. But between my bad German and Protestant idiosyncrasies not push the boundaries of another's privacy, so far not been possible to establish any kind of proximity. I do not know anything about them nor they of me, methodically and scrupulously ignore us. Until now, because Herr Brandt has taken a girlfriend.

Herr Brandt is the downstairs neighbor, a man about 50 something, tall, very thin, with hanging cheeks, you see that bald since birth. He walks slightly hunched over and very quickly. If you can not see you or only rozándote to look like a peaceful psychopath who fears to discover the depths of its perversions or frightened fawn begins to run every time a human sees as a hunter killed his mother. I always tied my bike next to him on the hook only available in front of the house, we shared a tacit agreement among cyclists solidarity. One day there was another bike as I usually put mine, so I left it in elsewhere the next day the other bike was still there, and another, and another. I do not even look, it is clear that I have expropriated the hook and now ever let the other portal.

Then came the music, always in the afternoon. Greatest hits of the eighties and nineties that a high-pitched voice sings of lung full while another encourages serious. By the thunderous volume and enthusiasm obviously juvenile, thought they were brothers of the adjacent building, the small and more, playing Guitar Hero or Karaoke program when their parents are. Ah, the awkward age, really annoying ... and it will happen. Gradually I realized that the sound coming from below. The music everyday sounds a little higher and now includes electronic dance music, laughter, stomping, screaming hysterically, and the same deep voice that rocks him everything with his comments brief, and very loving, from my knowledge of German and the universal language of dogs I can understand to me. It is Herr Brandt. And there's a woman with him, young and vital as well.

Today is Sunday and I was awakened by the shaking of the bed. There may be, has gone on holiday and has rented the house about Erasmus who are after all colleagues placed over his ears, can not be. And I have lost more by curiosity than it bothered me. Ie bothers me, but I also get the loud music and today for you, tomorrow for me and such. When I've rung the bell music has ceased, the laughter too, and I opened the door for him, a gorgeous smile and eyes that should be filled God the first morning of the world. Has requested a quick apology and when he closed the shrill has given another of his fits of laughter. Only they were. Had not seen him smile ever but there is no doubt: it is completely in love.