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HH (Or, perhaps, IHVMM) December

You know Vdes. that HH are the initials of the greeting of some guys who, suffering from some anti-Semitism and swastikas fans, when they get cryptic, write '88 '.

Today, Domus Hansis is HH, but not for that reason, but because it has become Hormone Hell, or, perhaps, IHVMM : Hormonal-Viral Hell Fear Mucho. Acrostático which is one, let him hear.

Eighteen, ages fifteen and twelve are complicated, not only for patients-that 'teen' comes from adolescere , we should not forget, but also and especially for parents. Domus branch Hansis in Benasque, where we spent 80% of last winter and planned to do the same this year, has been presented as an advantageous place immediately after New Year's Eve, to assess the cosmic anger erga omnes UPMM the big boy (fluctuating between fever and pharyngitis hangover, with a final fireworks potada large format mid-dinner with friends), lassitude decadent UPFM tiny (Large 'Sweats me everything' ) and the complicated attitude of my beloved UPFM that it if, given harshly fifteen, poor me. All this topped over the next few days after January 2, with the invasion of a very uncomfortable flu has ended up affecting 100% of the residents. Three Kings Day, to be exact, the parents of UPMM, UPFM and UPFM, which matches that we MBO and I we fight the day in bed. In fact, MBO is 'yes, no'.

meantime, I saw myself walking down the street looking left and right to prevent encounters, then, in my hands a Cuore for my aching Midianite and Mortadelo and Philemon for the poor little girl, not a question of being seen to a similar products with intellectual depth.

Against this family tradition, the end of the year was a disaster, whatever it caps a year pretty grim, so I prefer to think 'chis-pun' over a period bajista y ahora empieza uno alcista. Optimista que es uno, y tal.

Como siempre, múltiples lecturas ( vid infra ), aunque mayormente he dedicado el tiempo libre de que he dispuesto desde nochevieja para, como decía, poner orden en el estudio (léase: tirar a la basura toneladas de puñetitas y enrollar innúmeros cables) y trastear con mis nuevos juguetes. Señaladamente, éste:

Les presento mi nuevo apero, una Fender Telecaster American Standard obsequiada por Sus Majestades de Oriente. Esta noche tiembla Troya en el ensayo.

Sé que soy debitoris recommendations libraries, but it gives me a fatal laziness, not lack of material suggested (and I referred to the shelf full of books yet to sort alphabetically until the comment here), but rather because almost nothing Last I read caused me too much pleasure could, however, speak of two things: firstly, to The darkroom of Damocles , a novel of 1958 due to Willem Frederik HERMANS . I have to work hard to recoder Dutch authors have read: I do a quick 360-degree review of my library and looks very little horizontal tricolor. Nothing, well, at first glance, except Cees Nooteboom. It seems that this gentleman, that I did not know at all, of course, is one of the great writers of the second half of the twentieth century who held (missed in 1995) that nationality. It appears also that Tusquets has decided to disseminate his work in Spain. The novel to which I refer, in short, is a rather strange thing, which concludes with an epilogue consisting of the transcription of a passage from the Philosophical Investigations of Ludwig Wittgenstein, which I think for many of Vdes. be sufficiently significant. From what I was going to read my novels, set in the times of the Occupation and with a moral dilemma, I found an artifact basting with not much skill, without much rhythm, and star flojillo tiresome anecdotes. The characters do not do well and I would say that there are even some inconsistency in the facts of departure and final continuing resolution (to be clear, Dorbeck identified as Jagtman on page 39, and that fact is too significant to not take into consideration in the morass of a thousand pairs of balls that structures a hundred pages ranging from 283 to 383). In short, as I am English and therefore son of the country which caused so much pain to the Dutch Provinces (here come the Duke of Alba and blablabla) is possible that the Dutch culture and I are creditors should each pay both the tithe for compensation. By reading this book I met a couple of hundred shares.

In addition, a collection of stories, a priori a must read for bitelmaníacos, 22 beetles. Beatles Anthology tale Hispanic , but the truth is that the book, promising, does not meet expectations. Input, the antologuista is forced to crack a high-voltage mental straw and twenty-two pages in the form of introduction which expands with excessive pedantry and lack of originality the evolution of poetry in the Fab Four (c'mon: that first pieces were simple and single-issue and the latter more dense and suggestive). The anthology contains stories of eleven English and contributions of a very measured fifty percent of Hispanic Americans very, very Hispanic. The twenty-two stories are of variable quality and accuracy, but among them highlight the great Applesauce , the sensational ESTEBAN Erler Patricia (make yourself as you can with your Open for puppets, if only to enjoy the description of the protagonist omission Ada Neuman and genius in the description of hijoputez The most beautiful dance) and to a lesser extent Rock in the Andes of Fernando IWASAKI (which in any case does not convince me as much as other things the same author, and also has a tinge Brycecheniquiano very intense). The first is bright per se, but also because they respect what I believe should be the starting of such a program anthology: the axis has to turn the story is precisely the purpose of the anthology: the here are those of Liverpool.

Well, dear, that we are in 2010. That happy new year. And before I go to try to eat something light as a soundtrack special edition THE BEATLES of I have brought the Kings, too.