King Of The Hill Personality Disorder

Because of Facebook.

I find myself in complete agreement with what is written in this article ...

But for me, is because of Facebook: D

L I N D S A Y D A W N M C K E N Z I E

Sometimes it is better not to touch things that work well

I changed my template but obviously there is still something wrong. Maybe not the best way to start to write something on the blog ...

Images Women In Coffins

Part 2 - Part 1

It 'hard to find words to excuse my long absence.
Almost a year has slipped away since the last time, but my constant headache had become unbearable and the clinic was the only place where you can really relax.
disconnect from the world I left because I needed it.
Now I feel much better, they are also able to reconstruct the end of Issue: I have found things I forgot or did not want to remember. E 'terrible, terrible as is the fact that Romeo is still out there, out of control.
But I'm back, and now I want to close the history for ever, without further delay. At the clinic I also had
time to collect my memories, the memories of this last period.
I've written in the days of boredom and I hope that made you understand.
The characters start to appear and Romeo, I know, I will know straight away.
publish it as well to give you the opportunity to assimilate. You'll also
my point of view on this story.

What is the first public here from chronological point of view, since I fixed my "report" in a clearly delineated in time.
I apologize for having a bit romanticized, 'but I had to fight boredom in some way.

The following memory tells you about the meeting with the key person, the one I have-perhaps by chance or maybe not-dragged into the vortex.
We are in the winter of 2007, towards the end of January.

Anyway, stay tuned, because soon I'll go out to look for the answers.




FROM MY MEMORIES, January 2007:



Disco, are a disco.
not remember exactly why or with whom they came.
But there are.
are in the middle of the track, stagger between humanity pressed in the center of the room, between his shoulder and a boost to the fat kid euphoric.
Check with some difficulty at the bar, where finally recognize Ale.
He smiles as if nothing had happened, and hands me a glass of brew-killing stomach and a slice of orange.
How to say "hey, I drink the stuff with fruit cut above, are a gourmet, a connoisseur, someone who knows how to live, I will."
Sinking tremendous.
must be Long Island, a jumble of mismatched flavors that are used solely to make you lose some 'of consciousness.
sucks, but I can almost drain in one gulp, so to take off thought.
Via the tooth, the pain away.
Ale does not agree, he likes cocktails, Ale is a man of the world and not a sewer rat like me.
trying to communicate his deepest convictions about the goodness of long drinks screaming like a possessed inside my ear cavity.
I understand a little anyway, but luckily I do not care much.
have never been drinking cocktails or long drinks, I will.
them drink, of course, on nights like this, but only up to not get drunk having to endure being in a bad place full of people fucking ridiculous which I care nothing.
are a short way out, but certainly not a pleasure for my taste.
Beer, the cause is good.
clear, crisp and refreshing.
And without a fucking garden inside.
No pineapple or lime (lemon and smaller greens, are all the rage, it seems not to cause constipation, at least if not stuck up your ass.).
Then the spirits, the ones I like, but without mixing too much shit.
whiskey that is so good to ruin with coca cola should be subnormal.
I love vodka, dry and smooth, and rum.
Gin instead sucks, only serves to make cocktails for jocks and men of the world.
Then it makes me sick when you wake up, always.
mean, I go to bed drunk, I turn around in bed all night, then I wake up at 7 and vomiting. All the fucking time.
And always at 7.
So after I order a whiskey on Long Island.
I ask for a Oban, bring me a Jack Daniel's.
You can not have it all from life.
Ale while trying to figure out what happened to the other while I and the others do not even know who they are.
Maybe I drank too much at dinner, maybe that is a headache.
fact is that they are muffled.
I understand almost nothing, while sipping whiskey on the rocks (of course, what you want, we're in a trendy nightclub, drinking whiskey with ice).
I look around on the right, a girl much beautiful but with the horrible shoes, square-heeled type director of elementary school. They may also be brown, yuck.
On the left wing, his face lit up now by strobe lights, now the display of his mobile phone. Probably trying to figure it out, in this fucking hell.
Loose shirt and a wheel on a stool, trying to understand what I have behind me.
Two girls may be pretty and have more than two decades, sexy dancing in the middle of an impromptu circle of people.
horny boys are five or six, plus one with a face like a loser I almost feel sorry for him.
I look at him and I want to drive him home.
I want to say "what are you doing here?", Then take him by the arm and drag it to the car, pick him up and bring him home.
What are you doing here a case?
Alto, perhaps one meter and sixty, glasses and brown wool hair that give his face whisker Nouveau.
is pale and sweaty. And under his eighties sweater, brown with green stripes, he hides a consumptive.
Ride, poor, all excited that he almost moved to see the two girls dancing.
not even know that will never, ever have one that does not even pretty.
laughs now, looking with eyes delighted gaze and accomplice of the other guys, more sgam not see him as a human being, but as a piece of furniture.
Type the chandelier, or the sofa.
He kept looking back, all happy.
soon begin to get a few questions and, unless one is stupid and full of himself, will also begin to understand why can not ever have one like the girl with the gray undershirt.
It is not just bad, but the face you see that it is also tasteless, scialbetto.
He dresses badly, so it may not have ever fucked in Milan (Milan ahh! not have the heart), then it must also be poor, because I do not see signatures on his trendy clothes.
course, because one thing is wrong dress, another dress badly signed.
Anyway, I'm too drunk to try to convince the boy to leave, to get away from those beautiful girls and soulless (quotations top level) that will never have.
'm too stoned to suggest to stay with friends oratory and maybe learn to play guitar, so at least one day could play a role in society.
But as I also have a free role, and they are also drunk and stoned, I stop thinking about that poor boy and try to understand the intentions of Ale, who meanwhile has finished sditalinare the phone.
"I'm out to smoke, let's catch them."
"Ok" I replied, making the thumb to Fonzie.
When I tend to tune into a sort of Fonzie dyslexia and problems with bloating.
Ale deviates from the counter, puts it in his breast pocket his phone and walks toward the exit.
I try to follow him, in the midst of the asses of people banging against me, each with its own rhythm.
A boy with a foul-smelling leather jacket gets in my face, hugs me and I print a kiss on the cheek: "great," he screams.
I seem to know him, and throw a "how are you?", He says, I do not understand.
In all this senseless exchange, I lost sight of Ale.
I perceive to be right in the middle of the dance floor and do not know why I do not think to go outside, where others are waiting for me burning cigarettes.
finished smoking I think the others would come back up.
So I sit back to the stool, rest your arms on the counter, ordered another whiskey.
The bartender I return the card (in the fashionable bars used like this, you do everything with the card) but I can not seem to grasp for straws because of several meters high in front of me the arm.
I move your ass from the seat, and I bent down with one foot on the knee.
A 12 cm heel attempt to divide the knuckles.
I do not know whether to have an erection or angry with the child that while the euphoria of the evening moves on stilts all excited regardless of the hands of the assholes who collect the tiles from the floor.
I get up, I see it.
No, not the little girl with her heels, but the girl behind it.
pouting, eyes shining, eyes fixed on the counter.
Beautiful.
The fixed, but not for me to see, as you would in these cases.
No.
the disk because I can not stop looking at her.
She's got beautiful eyes are so dark and shiny to reflect all the light there is.
He turns and looks at me.
Embarrassment, strange, usually I do not embarrass these exchanges of glances.
So I think it's better to face a tough, however I'm all alone at the bar drinking whiskey the bar, fuck.
I try to face tough, but I put on an expression from Pirlo, with a sprinkling of Fonzie dyslexic. And with bloating.
She pretends not to see my fucking face and responded by lifting his chin toward me, as if to say "what's up?".
I look, I elaborate in a nanosecond and I say by the mouth of Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
clearly tell you that I'm ok.
However you-possibly-understand, shakes his head slightly and turned to call the guy behind the counter.
That comes and stretches out as if nothing had happened with his ear to her lips. I do not know how he can not put on a face like a prick too.
Then I do not know what to order, but I can intuit watching dell'intruglio preparation: split ice, lime (never fails, eh), mint, sugar, soda and rum.
you stretch thin fingers on the glass, grabs him and turns away.
He smiles again and this time I smile, no Fonzie injured, or causes to be stupid.
Anyway, I've lost it. It has already gone into the pit, in the colors and lights Local.
I could finish the whiskey shot, get up and go looking for it. But I do not, it does not seem the case. She was just nice to me, I mean, you can not even blink and ask it to strangers at the bar?
As I reflect on this and other issues of vital importance, Ale arrives with the rest of the company.
Now I recognize them all, more or less.
Flavio, Missile and Andrea.
We laugh and joke trying to scream as loud as we can, so at least there is hope that someone feels. But the words come out of the mouths fragmented that no one understands, the timpani must answer too many frequencies to look after one of those wretched conversation.
We drink yet, but when they are on the verge of leaving 2 or 3 of the 5 senses I stop. Do not want to throw up at seven tomorrow morning (yes fuck, maybe I drank gin).
include a drink and a joke of the missile, which will be purpose whatsoever, whether living or not, there's the 4.
The restaurant is closing and so we decide to go out of balls, because the drunkenness of harassment is becoming "limp" then we feel the need to go home to rest his limbs for a few hours.
Just down the last step of the staircase leading to the entrance see her, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette while holding back tears.
I am tender, sweet.
The next step in greeting and I do not know why.
She reciprocates by saying a simple "hello", naturally, as if we already knew. Without thinking I ask if it goes well, she nods her head and I can not say anything sensible if not "good night".
Among the smiles and jokes of the friends who ask me who is the girl, I boot the machine quickly, because it starts to snow.
is soft snow flakes falling lightly and icy tarmac alight.
I sit in the car with fatigue, sleek coat that I wear is uncomfortable, I'm not the type to be smart clothes, I can not move packaged as a dandy.
me the phone falls out of his pocket, profanity, put it back away and I light up a cigarette. I try to run while the wipers to move the thin white layer of the glass. The street light in front comes from the windshield and makes me squint.
I can not understand why, but I have to return the girl.
I leave the car in a hurry, around the block and step in front of the room. I can park in some way.
monster bouncer at the "lips" that I have the stamp on the right hand, "we're closing" that's all I can decipher, check first to see the exit of the club.
I can see, we are looking at.
is walking towards me with his head down, and before a group five or six people, maybe his friends.
is close to me, I feel the smell and this time do not hesitate: "Are you sure that you all right?". She says no, take me away, "he says.
walk arm in arm, quick, to the car.
They are incredibly quiet even though the situation is really strange.
I do not think simply.
I do not think what is unusual about this way a person from one place to take her away from her friends (or enemies), its night.
All with two words, in a split second.
As you inhale the cold air from the nose of the snow, I hear footsteps, then a voice: "Where the fuck go !?!". I turn and see a guy running towards me, towards us.
struck him.
Strong, direct, I think on the nose.
My hand makes a sound creepy, but overcomes his nose.
All in a split second away, without thinking.
I hear screams, but she is already at the machine. I also rising, the bouncers are far away, the engine is already on and in a moment we are invisible.


Silence.
We do not say anything.
The machine runs very soft almost without sound, except that the snow is crushed under the weight of the wheels.
I touch your hand, shit, I must have broken something. Is swelling.
But then I think his nose and I am heartened. There is always someone worse off than you are in the world.
I try to talk to her, I ask "where we go."
You I said it was not going anywhere.
Very well, I think I caught a glimpse the unknown and face a guy like that, not to go anywhere.
I ask who was the one who now has a broken nose, she says a jerk, I do not quite understand but I adjusted. Also because it's nearly 4.30.
Guido, without thinking.
I turn on the stereo, perhaps to break the tension, the music is spreading, and I hear the words of the song, I sound so sad, I do not know why:

Stranded in this spooky town
stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down This floor is crackling cold

She Took My heart, my soul I think she Took


continue driving.
without noticing anything coming to my house.
parking and we go down, still without saying a word. It's all so surreal, snow, the silence of a Sunday morning, headaches, stomach upset now.
I put the key in the lock and the wheel are inside.
I do the usual things, keys on the wall, light, off the jacket.
She keeps on her and walks into the room with me.
"Want a drink? to eat? "'I ask.
I said no, it is in place.
then do not go into the kitchen, but I remain there, under the arch that divides the input space with the room.
I turn to light the lamp light and I feel that she is removing her jacket and that is throwing on the bed.
I'll be back to look at while the bag near the foot rests and smiles, so sweet, her eyes shine like when I saw her at the counter.
In my head I keep thinking that the situation is nothing short of bizarre.
We do not say a word.
But I'm so out of tune that basically all this does not seem so strange.
is all soft, like snow falling outside.
We are close, she reaches out and touches my arm.
Shit, my head is spinning, I do not understand in what size they are.
could also be a dream, maybe I'm back and I'm only sleeping sbronzissimo.
Maybe I'm just dreaming I saw the girl at the counter.
is why it is so weird.
I think I understand.
But then approaches, I feel her smell.
me kisses.
lips are soft, soft as snow but warm inside.
I move my tongue trying to follow her.
Plan, in a delicate, not as it should do with a popular disco and whose name is unknown.
She moves away a bit 'to me, looks at me with those bright eyes and good, smiled slightly and then opens his mouth.
I can inhale his breath is sweet.
So do not resist, I get close, I kissed her.
you kiss you leave, we're going a bit 'stronger now and her arms around my neck shake.
strokes my head, pulling it slightly.
I do carry, so slip on the bed, over his jacket.
We kiss in a lying side by side. Then she moves up, pulling my hips with his hands, until it's over me.
the smooth dark hair falling on her face and with the tips of the fingers brings them back behind your ear.
My hand, still a little 'cold and sore, up along his back caressing and feeling with the fingertips as the skin reacts to cold.
puckers slightly, even when I get to touch the muscles on the concave spine.
He takes off his shirt, then take away mine.
begin to kiss her neck and while my mouth is filled aromas, I can remove her bra.
Now the bodies are crushed, one against the other, I decided.
I can feel its warmth. My breasts pressed on her.
I do not think of anything, let me go, no matter the situation more.
I too got a taste of the olive skin and smooth as silk.
size have a kind of muffled and warm.
I almost did not realize that we are naked, I do not think of anything.
When I'm inside her, I feel it grab the shoulders and shake up the flesh with nails.
not think of anything.
I reach a bit 'over her and still feel when I kiss her breasts just under the jaw.
His mouth against my ear, I hear her sigh and makes me dizzy, as if I had a fever.
close my eyes and not think about anything.
Perhaps we fell asleep like that, one above the other, without thinking.


After an unspecified period of time, I open my eyes.
With difficulty, because I feel my eyelids glued her lips dry.
The glow of the lamp is gone.
Instead, there is a ray like a knife through the holes in the blinds and hit the left side of my body.
When the fog disappears from my eyes, I turn.
And I see that she is gone.
There is in bed, I can not find the bathroom.
The kitchen and adjoining room are empty, it seems that no one besides me has ever been in that house.
For a moment I think I'm crazy, that he really wanted to see everything.
I quit drinking, shit.
Then I look at the table and its smooth surface is interrupted by a curved sheet.
"thanks for everything, you're my knight and .