Po Boy Quotes

The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie, and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week--yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat day and night, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town. In fact, like any sex offender, it can leave permanent psychological scars.

A fried shrimp sandwich?” “It is a po’boy.

Saint Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen Annual Report Student: Artemis Fowl II Year: First Fees: Paid Tutor: Dr Po Language Arts As far as I can tell, Artemis has made absolutely no progress since the beginning of the year. This is because his abilities are beyond the scope of my experience. He memorizes and understands Shakespeare after a single reading. He finds mistakes in every exercise I administer, and has taken to chuckling gently when I attempt to explain some of the more complex texts. Next year I intend to grant his request and give him a library pass during my class. Mathematics Artemis is an infuriating boy. One day he answers all my questions correctly, and the next every answer is wrong. He calls this an example of the chaos theory, and says that he is only trying to prepare me for the real world. He says the notion of infinity is ridiculous. Frankly, I am not trained to deal with a boy like Artemis. Most of my pupils have trouble counting without the aid of their fingers. I am sorry to say, there is nothing I can teach Artemis about mathematics, but someone should teach him some manners. Social Studies Artemis distrusts all history texts, because he says history was written by the victors. He prefers living history, where survivors of certain events can actually be interviewed. Obviously this makes studying the Middle Ages somewhat difficult. Artemis has asked for permission to build a time machine next year during double periods so that the entire class may view Medieval Ireland for ourselves. I have granted his wish and would not be at all surprised if he succeeded in his goal. Science Artemis does not see himself as a student, rather as a foil for the theories of science. He insists that the periodic table is a few elements short and that the theory of relativity is all very well on paper but would not hold up in the real world, because space will disintegrate before lime. I made the mistake of arguing once, and young Artemis reduced me to near tears in seconds. Artemis has asked for permission to conduct failure analysis tests on the school next term. I must grant his request, as I fear there is nothing he can learn from me. Social & Personal Development Artemis is quite perceptive and extremely intellectual. He can answer the questions on any psychological profile perfectly, but this is only because he knows the perfect answer. I fear that Artemis feels that the other boys are too childish. He refuses to socialize, preferring to work on his various projects during free periods. The more he works alone, the more isolated he becomes, and if he does not change his habits soon, he may isolate himself completely from anyone wishing to be his friend, and, ultimately, his family. Must try harder.

But that wasn't why the boy, whose name was Will but who also answered to "Useless" and "Hopeless" and "Snot-Face" and "Sniveler" (at least when the alchemist was the one calling to him), felt sorry for himself.

Are you a girl or a boy?' Liesl was wearing the same thin nightshirt she had been wearing since Tuesday, when her father died, and it occurred to her that if the ghost was a boy, she should cover up. 'Neither,' the ghost replied. Liesel was startled. 'You have to be one or the other.' 'I don't have to be anything,' the ghost replied, sounding irritated. 'I am what I am and that's all. Things are different on the Other Side, you know. Things are... blurrier.

Blue Boy i ja krenuli smo u potragu za planinom. I našli smo jednu još prije zore. To nije bila baš bogzna kakva planina, prije bi se moglo reći da je to bilo brdo, ali Blue Boy je zacvilio kad ju je vidio. Odnio sam ga do vrha dok je na istoku izlazilo sunce. Ležao je i promatrao me dok sam mu kopao grob. Nije mogao podignuti glavu, ali dao mi je do znanja kako zna; naćulio je uši i nije skidao oka s mene. Kad sam završio s kopanjem, sjeo sam na zemlju i stavio njegovu glavu u krilo. Povremeno, kad bi smogao snage, polizao bi me po ruci. Malo kasnije je bez napora izdahnuo i glava mu je klonula preko moje ruke. Sahranio sam ga duboko u zemlji i naslagao teško kamenje na njegov grob. Tako da ima svoj mir. Kad sam stavio zadnji kamen, pomislio sam kako je zahvaljujući svom dobrom nosu sigurno već na pola puta natrag u planine. Lako je njemu sustići djeda.

She lived with the doctor on Via Po, in a gloomy, dark apartment, barely warmed in winter by just a small Franklin stove, and she no longer threw out anything, because everything might eventually come in handy: not even the cheese rinds or the foil on chocolates, with which she made silver balls to be sent to missions to “free a little black boy.

Tak po prostu działa świat, nie przejmując się przyzwoitością i pragnieniami jednostek.

Gdy Gruby Charlie był jeszcze mały, matka powtarzała mu, by policzył do dziesięciu, nim wybuchnie. Umilkł zatem, policzył powoli do dziesięciu, po czym wybuchnął.

For folks who have that casual-dude energy coursing through their bloodstream, that's great. But gays should not grow up alienated just for us to alienate each other. It's too predictable, like any other cycle of abuse. Plus, the conformist, competitive notion that by "toning down" we are "growing up" ultimately blunts the radical edge of what it is to be queer; it truncates our colorful journey of identity. Said another way, it's like living in West Hollywood and working a gay job by day and working it in the gay nightlife, wearing delicate shiny shirts picked from up the gay dry cleaners, yet coquettishly left unbuttoned to reveal the pec implants purchased from a gay surgeon and shown off by prancing around the gay-owned-and-operated theater hopped up on gay health clinic steroids and wheat grass purchased from the friendly gay boy who's new to the city, and impressed by the monstrous SUV purchased from a gay car dealership with its rainbow-striped bumper sticker that says "Celebrate Diversity." Then logging on to the local Gay.com listings and describing yourself as "straight-acting." Let me make myself clear. This is not a campaign for everyone to be like me. That'd be a total yawn. Instead, this narrative is about praise for the prancy boys. Granted, there's undecided gender-fucks, dagger dykes, faux-mos, po-mos, FTMs, fisting-top daddies, and lezzie looners who also need props for broadening the sexual spectrum, but they're telling their own stories. The Cliff's Notes of me and mine are this: the only moments I feel alive are when I'm just being myself - not some stiff-necked temp masquerading as normal in the workplace, not some insecure gay boy aspiring to be an overpumped circuit queen, not some comic book version of swank WeHo living. If that's considered a political act in the homogenized world of twenty-first century homosexuals, then so be it. — excerpt of "Praise For The Prancy Boys," by Clint Catalyst appears in first edition (ISBN # 1-932360-56-5)

«Fidanzati?» Agitò le sopracciglia come se fosse tutto un gioco, e Abe si sentì ancora più confuso.Diversi pensieri attraversarono la sua mente. Si trovava risucchiato in un turbinio di aspettative per cui non era pronto. Aveva iniziato quell’avventura più di un anno fa, e fino a quel momento aveva evitato relazioni pericolose e gente possessiva, ma questa situazione era completamente nuova e non sapeva come comportarsi.Incrociò lo sguardo di Dusk, così gioioso ed elettrizzato, e si ritrovò a sorridere nonostante tutti i dubbi che lo stavano tormentando. Gli piaceva davvero Dusk. Era bello stare con lui ed era un fantastico compagno di letto. Adorava anche trascorrere del tempo con i suoi amici ma, cosa più importante, non era un tipo che faceva programmi. Seguiva la corrente e si godeva il viaggio proprio come lui. Erano molto simili, quindi pensò che rimanere un altro po’ e guadagnare soldi extra, vedere nuovi posti e aiutare gli Underdogs ad avviare la loro carriera non fosse poi un’idea così malvagia. Abe accorciò la distanza che li separava e baciò Dusk. «Fidanzati»

In no time, I'd beaten cream cheese and butter and confectioners' sugar and more vanilla with my electric hand mixer till the icing was real light and fluffy, and when the cakes were cooled a little, I handed Billy Po a serrated knife, showed him how to level the tops, and we both tasted the rich leftover pieces of cake. "Boy, that's delicious," he exclaimed as he nibbled real slow and his eyes got big. "Know what I love?" I said. "All those different textures. The smooth bananas, the stringy pineapple, and crunchy pecans. Nothing like it.

Po dosažení čtyřiceti let začne hladina testosteronu postupně klesat. Někdy i několik dní za sebou nemyslí na sex! V ložnici nahrazuje kvantitu kvalita. Teď nemusí nic dokazovat a je klidnější a moudřejší. Ve skupině a pracovních situacích se stává tichým vůdcem. Cení si přátelství a je teď pro svět největším přínosem.

Dusk era felice di avere gli occhiali da sole, perché sentì il rossore imporporargli il viso, al pensiero che quei ragazzini lo avessero visto inginocchiato davanti a Lolly in un vicolo. Ad ogni modo, era successo, e non poteva di certo tornare indietro. Dusk sollevò la mano di Lolly per baciarla alla ricerca di un po’ di coraggio. «’Fanculo a quello che dicono, Baby Blue. Solo noi abbiamo il potere di definire chi siamo.»

«I tuoi fan mi hanno tirato del cibo!» Dusk indietreggiò, talmente sconvolto dallo schiaffo da non sapere che cosa fare o dire. «Ho cancellato il video,» farfugliò, non riuscendo nemmeno a guardare Lolly negli occhi. Lolly sbuffò, facendosi avanti. «E anche loro mi chiamano Lolly. Sembra quasi che io sia un gigolò. Non sono il tuo animaletto. Non puoi darmi un nome e poi dirlo ad altre persone. Non sai nemmeno come mi chiamo veramente!» urlò Lolly. Dusk non lo aveva mai visto così arrabbiato, e non aveva idea di come comportarsi. Sembrava che quella rabbia tormentasse Lolly da un po’, pronta a esplodere per bruciare Dusk di vergogna.«Mi dispiace di non averlo mai chiesto,» rispose Dusk. «Come ti chiami?» Com’era possibile che non lo avesse chiesto dopo tutto quel tempo? Era davvero un coglione. Lolly deglutì diverse volte, sbattendo le palpebre come se stesse valutando se Dusk meritasse di sapere la verità. «Abe.»

Every moment for all the generations was leading to you here on my lap, your head against your granddaddy’s chest, already four years old. Hair smelling like coconut oil. Something beneath that, though. Little-girl sweat—almost sour, but then just when I think that’s what it is, it turns, sweetens somehow. Makes me want to sit here forever breathing in your scalp. When did your arms get so long? Your feet so big? These footie pajamas with reindeer all over them remind me of the ones your mama used to wear. She used to fall asleep on my lap just like this. Back at the other house. Oh time time time time. Where’d you go where’d you go? My legs hurt tonight. Another place too—deep in my back somewhere, there’s a dull, aching pain. I try not to think about it. Old people used to always say, You only as old as you feel. Here I am closer to fifty than forty, but I feel older than that most days. Feel like the world is trying to pull me down back into it. Like God went ahead and said, I’ve changed my mind about you, Po’Boy. A bath with Epsom salts helps some evenings. Ginger tea keeps Sabe’s good cooking in my belly. Sitting here holding you at the end of the day—that’s . . . well, I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t the best thing that ever happened to my life because it is. Look at you laughing in your sleep. Got me wondering what you’re dreaming about. What’s making you laugh like that? Tell your granddaddy what’s playing in your pretty brown head, my little Melody. Name like a song. Like you were born and it was cause for the world to sing. You know how much your old granddaddy loves when you sing him silly songs? Sabe says she’s gonna have to get some earplugs if she has to hear one more verse of “Elmo’s World” or that song about how to grow a garden. But me, I can listen to your voice forever. Can’t hear you singing enough.

Judge Sims called for a lunch recess until 1:00 P.M. The diner would bring over tuna fish, chicken salad, and ham sandwiches for the jurors, who would eat in the deliberation room. To be fair to the town's two eating establishments, the Dog-Gone Beer Hall would deliver hot dogs, chili, and shrimp po'boys on alternative days. They always brought something for the cat, too. Sunday Justice preferred the po'boys.

«Cioè, Flaca non è meno donna solo perché la gente la guarda e non la considera tale» continuò Julian. «Solo perché non prende chissà che ormoni, o perché non “passa”, non significa che tocca agli altri decidere chi è. E la stessa cosa vale per te.» Le guance di Yadriel presero fuoco. «Non devi niente a nessuno, cazzo» gli disse Julian, una rabbia burrascosa che si addensava in fondo ai suoi occhi scuri. Julian era un po’ uno stronzo. Uno stronzo irritante, a volte volgare, e senza molto tatto. Eppure, chissà perché, il cuore di Yadriel gli fremette lo stesso nel petto.

Po’ Boy Blues Langston Hughes, 1902 - 1967 When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de Whole damn world’s turned cold. I was a good boy, Never done no wrong. Yes, I was a good boy, Never done no wrong, But this world is weary An’ de road is hard an’ long. I fell in love with A gal I thought was kind. Fell in love with A gal I thought was kind. She made me lose ma money An’ almost lose ma mind. Weary, weary, Weary early in de morn. Weary, weary, Early, early in de morn. I’s so weary I wish I’d never been born.

«Posso farti una domanda?» domandò Corey. Angel si aspettava l’inevitabile domanda su quanto lunga fosse una vita, perciò rimase scioccato, quando il giovane si limitò a chiedere: «Sai cosa si prova ad amare?» Il ragazzo esitò prima di rispondere. Lo faceva un bel po’, quando si trattava di Corey, una piccola pausa per capire come impostare la frase perché avesse assolutamente senso. «Vuoi stare tutto il tempo con qualcuno, immagino. E desideri un futuro con quella persona.» «E anche farci del sesso?» Angel sorrise fra sé e sé. «Sì, il sesso non è male.» «Forse potremmo provare, un giorno?» domandò l’altro in tono speranzoso. Angel si protese verso di lui e gli diede un colpetto con la spalla. «Cosa? A fare sesso?» «No. Ad avere un futuro.»

«Non vuoi parlare un po’ di più della questione dell’autismo? Continuo ad accennarlo, ma nessuno vuole discuterne con me.» Angel scrollò le spalle. «Tu senti il bisogno di parlarmene?» Il giovane considerò la domanda. Ne sentiva il bisogno? In troppi volevano che etichettasse i suoi sentimenti, i suoi meccanismi di difesa, il modo in cui riusciva a stare sul palco e a cantare esprimendo emozioni che non era in grado di catalogare dentro se stesso. «Non proprio.» «Una cosa...» disse Angel. Il petto di Corey si contrasse. Ecco. Le aveva già sentite tutte. Com’è? Provi emozioni? Cos’è quella gigantesca collezione di fumetti? Come fai ad avere una conoscenza enciclopedica dei film della Disney? Sei sempre così maleducato? Le solite domande. Ma si trattava di Angel, e lui non era quel tipo di persona. «Dimmi,» lo incoraggiò, nonostante la tensione che provava dentro di sé. «Ti è piaciuto quel bacio? Puoi... ti andrebbe di rifarlo?» Angel sembrava nervoso. Nonostante spesso Corey fosse incapace di leggere le emozioni altrui, era chiaro che il ragazzo non riusciva a mettere insieme una frase. «Eri bellissimo,» disse Corey, o meglio, buttò fuori tutto in una volta. «Ricordi quando stavamo cercando dei vestiti? Eri proprio davanti a me, stavi saltellando dentro e fuori dai jeans e volevo toccarti, la sensazione del materiale mi stava agitando, così mi sono concentrato su di te e il pensiero che le camicie mi facevano male ha cominciato a sparire. Volevo baciarti allora e volevo baciarti quando è successo, anche se forse tu non eri dell’idea. È una cosa bruttissima, vero?» Angel scrollò le spalle, indicò la chitarra e Corey gliela passò. Il ragazzo la appoggiò delicatamente sul cuscino accanto a loro e con un movimento fluido saltò in grembo a Corey. Gli prese il volto tra le mani e gli posò un bacio sulle labbra. «Okay?» mormorò Angel. «Posso stare così?» Per tutta risposta, Corey gli artigliò i fianchi e si protese per dargli un altro bacio

«Cazzo,» ansimò Angel. «È stato intenso. Non sai che mi fai, Corey... Non ho mai fatto una cosa del genere prima... venire solo per un bacio.» «Io non so... Non ho...» Corey non sapeva che dire. Si limitò a guardarlo negli occhi. Doveva dirgli che era la prima volta anche per lui. In assoluto. La voce di Scott infranse il momento. «Ragazze, esiste il bagno per quella roba, sapete?» Ma a Corey non importava. Aveva Angel tra le braccia, il suo peso a tenerlo giù, e non lo avrebbe lasciato ancora per un bel po'.

«Questa sera abbiamo raggiunto i sette milioni di voti per i nostri finalisti, Hannah Isaacs e i Wildcard. E il vincitore è...» Corey non ce la faceva ad ascoltarlo, così fissò il buio, la mano di Toby nella sua e quella di Angel dall’altro lato, le dita intrecciate. Non riusciva a guardare né ad ascoltare, poteva solo rubare un po’ della salda tenacia del suo fidanzato. Poi, proprio quando la pausa cominciava a diventare troppo, fu annunciato il vincitore. «... i Wildcard!» L’arena eruppe in un boato assordante. Carta dorata piovve su di loro dal soffitto, migliaia di piccole ali svolazzanti che li circondarono riflettendo le luci della ribalta. Corey sentì Scott urlare, Toby che rideva e DK che strillava «Sì!» a ripetizione. Il giovane strinse forte la mano di Angel e solo allora comprese che questo significava avere successo: era reale e Corey teneva per mano l’uomo con cui sarebbe rimasto per sempre. Era perfetto. Avevano tutta la vita davanti

«Io che cosa?» Corey scrollò le spalle. «Niente. Sei perfetto. Ci fai fare brutta figura.» Entrambi si girarono e questa volta fu Angel a cercare il suo viso. Gli prese la testa tra le mani, proprio come aveva fatto nei camerini di prova, e appoggiò la fronte sulla sua. Corey non provò l’impulso immediato di ritrarsi. Bramava quel tocco più di qualunque altra cosa. «Se continuiamo a lavorare insieme, andrà tutto bene. Anzi, benissimo, e arriveremo alla prossima settimana.» Rimasero così per un po’ e Corey chiuse gli occhi. Gli piaceva stargli vicino, toccarlo, respirare all’unisono con quell’uomo incantevole. Era come se il tocco di Angel fosse in grado di raggruppare tutte le sue ruvide terminazioni nervose e di ammorbidirle. Solo allora Corey poteva tranquillizzarsi. Tutto merito di Angel. Adorabile, indulgente Angel.

Všechno to, co je noční můrou rodičů (riskantní chování, alkohol, drogy a trestná činnost), se děje proto, že nenacházíme způsoby, jak by se mohla realizovat touha mladých mužů po slávě a hrdinských činech.

Still, to me, the bottom line wasn’t about the Dark Book at all. It was about uncovering the details of my sister’s secret life. I didn’t want the creepy thing. I just wanted to know who or what had killed Alina, and I wanted him or it dead. Then I wanted to go home to my pleasantly provincial po-dunk little town in steamy southern Georgia and forget about everything that had happened to me while I was in Dublin. The Fae didn’t visit Ashford? Good. I’d marry a local boy with a jacked-up Chevy pickup truck, Toby Keith singing “Who’s Your Daddy?” on the radio, and eight proud generations of honest, hardworking Ashford ancestors decorating his family tree. Short of essential shopping trips to Atlanta, I’d never leave home again. But

Po?” His voice rasped with the effort of speaking. “Po.” He struggled to clear his throat and then lay still for a moment, exhausted. “Great seas, boy. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you.” “I’ve been tracking you down, Grandfather,” Po said. “Move that lamp closer, boy,” Tealiff said. “What in the name of Lienid have you done to your face?” “It’s nothing, Grandfather. I’ve only been fighting.” “With what, a pack of wolves?” “With the Lady Katsa,” Po said. He cocked his head at Katsa, who stood at the foot of the bed. “Don’t worry, Grandfather. It was only a friendly scuffle.” Tealiff snorted. “A friendly scuffle. You look worse than she does, Po.” Po burst into laughter. He laughed a lot, this Lienid prince. “I’ve met my match, Grandfather.” “More than your match,” Tealiff said, “it looks to me. Come here, child,” he said to Katsa.

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Daniel loved these damned hurricanes. He folded back the shutters, then opened the window. Rain hit him good. It tasted of salt and smelled of dead fish and weeds. The cat-five wind clawed through New Orleans at better than a hundred miles an hour, but back here in the alley—in a cheap one-room apartment over a po’boy shop—the wind was no stronger than an arrogant breeze. The

Never Let Me Down" (feat. Jay-Z, J-Ivy) [Intro:] Yeah Grandmama Told you I won't let you down Told you I won't let this rap game change me, right? [Chorus:] When it comes to being true, at least true to me One thing I found,one thing I found Oh no you'll neva let me down, Get up I get(down) Get up I get(down) Get up I get(down) Get up I get(down) Get up I get(down) Get up I get(down) [Jay-Z:] Yo, yo first I snatched the street then I snatched the charts, First had they ear now I hav they're heart, Rappers came and went, I've been hear from the start, Seen them put it together Watch them take it apart, See the Rovers roll up wit ribbons I've seen them re-poed, re-sold and re-driven So when I reload, he holds #1 position When u hot I'm hot And when your feet cold, mines is sizzelin It's plain to see Nigga's can't f*** wit me Cuz ima be that nigga fo life This is not an image This is God given This is hard liven Mixed wit crystal sipping It's the most consistent Hov Give you the most hits you can fit inside a whole disc and Nigga I'm home on these charts, y'all niggaz visitin It's Hov tradition, Jeff Gordan of rap I'm back to claim pole position, holla at ya boy [Chorus] [Kanye West:] I get down for my grandfather who took my momma Made her sit that seat where white folks ain't wanna us to eat At the tender age of 6 she was arrested for the sit in With that in my blood I was born to be different Now niggas can't make it to ballots to choose leadership But we can make it to Jacob and to the dealership That's why I hear new music And I just don't be feeling it Racism still alive they just be concealing it But I know they don't want me in the damn club They even made me show I.D to get inside of Sam's club I did dirt and went to church to get my hands scrubbed Swear I've been baptised at least 3 or 4 times But in the land where nigga's praise Yukons and getting paid It gon' take a lot more than coupons to get us saved Like it take a lot more than do-rags to get your waves Noting sadder than that day my girl father past away So I promised to Mr Rany I'm gonna marry your daughter And u know I gotta thank u for they way that she was brought up And I know that u were smiling when u see that car I bought her And u sent tears from heaven when u seen my car get balled up But I can't complaint what the accident did to my Left Eye Cuz look what a accident did to Left Eye First Aaliyah and now romeo must die I know a got angels watching me from the other side

Během těch devíti let u nás nic nového nevyrobili. Pořád ten samý obvaz, ta samá dlaha. Sovětský voják je nejlevnější voják. Nejtrpělivější a nejskromnější. Nemá žádnou výstroj, nic ho nechrání. Je na odpis. Tak to bylo v jedenačtyřicátém… A po padesáti letech je to také tak.

Nejčastěji jsme vzpomínali na ty, po nichž tu zůstaly děti. Ty budou vyrůstat jako sirotci. Bez otce. No a ti, co je neměli? Jejich děvčata si najdou nového ženicha a matky vychovají nové syny. Všechno se pořád opakuje.

po několika letech od doby, kdy kniha Zinkoví chlapci vyšla tiskem u nás i ve světě!), vyvolávají soudní proces pro „urážku na cti a důstojnosti“ afghánských veteránů, těch chlapců, o nichž s takovým pochopením, soucitem a účastenstvím, s takovou bolestí v srdci napsala Světlana Alexijevičová.

Fils, s'il t'est donné de vivre, tu rencontreras sur ta route des hommes qui sont suivis par des troupeaux de montagnes. Des hommes qui arrivent dans des pays, nus et crus. On remarque à peine que leurs mains ouvertes éclairent l'ombre comme des veilleuses. Quand on le remarque. Et voilà que les montagnes se lèvent et marchent à leur suite. Et voilà que tous les mécaniciens de raison tapent du poing sur leurs tables. Voilà qu'ils crient : « Il y a dix ans que je cherche des formules, dix ans que je noircis du papier, dix ans que j'use des arithmétiques. Dix ans que je cherche le bouton secret ». Et celui-là est arrivé et il a dit tout simplement : « Montagne » et puis la montagne s'est dressée. Où est la justice ? « Elle est là, fiston la justice. L'espérance… »

AT NOON I found Clete sitting at the bar in Clementine’s, a po’boy fried-oyster sandwich on a plate in front of him, a Bloody Mary in a big tumbler with a celery stalk stuck in it by his elbow.

The waiter brought him a bowl of gumbo. Clete dipped the end of his po’boy sandwich into the bowl and began eating, drinking from his Bloody Mary, filling his mouth with French bread, oysters, lettuce and tomatoes, red sauce, and mayonnaise, stopping only long enough to wipe his chin with a white napkin.

AW YEAH!!!” roared Carl, punching the air. “PO-TATO! PO-TATO!” “I want to join in too!” said Alex. “PO-TATO! PO-TATO! PO-TATO!” “Yo, are we doing freestyle?” said Jean-Cowphio. “Let your boy JC lay down some bars. Uh, sometimes life can be pretty slow; but it don’t matter when you got pota-to. PO-TAY-TO! PO-PO-PO-POTATO! If you don’t know ‘bout ‘tatoes, then we ain’t homies no mo’. Uh, you know how we do. Jean-Cowphio comin’ at you like a sack of potatoes. Remember the name. And we won’t stop. Because we can’t stop. Straight outta Cow Village. Now and forever, baby. Peace.

«Posso chiederti una cosa?» Kai, che stava cercando di infilarsi i jeans, alzò lo sguardo. La pelle umida di sudore rendeva il compito più complicato rispetto a quando ne era sgusciato fuori in preda alla lussuria. «Certo.» «Compreso Jon, sono stato solo con quattro persone.» Kai si strinse nelle spalle. «Quindi?» Matthew si morse il labbro inferiore. «Quindi niente. Ho solo pensato che potresti chiederti perché faccio schifo a stare calmo e a mantenere il controllo. Pensi che si vedrà sullo schermo?» Kai si abbottonò i jeans con cura eccessiva. Lui e Matthew avevano quasi la stessa età, ma all’improvviso si sentì più vecchio… molto più vecchio. Da quando era diventato quello che conosceva tutte le risposte? «Gli spettatori del porno vedono ciò che vogliono vedere. Non dovresti preoccuparti di questo.» «Non pensi che sia un cretino?» «Cosa? No. Ho perso il conto dei ragazzi con cui sono stato. Pensi che sia una puttana?» «No.» Matthew si accigliò. «Perché dovrei pensarlo?» «Appunto.» Kai infilò la testa nella maglietta. «I numeri non significano nulla a meno che tu non glielo permetta.» La risposta che aveva rubato a Sonny sembrò rassicurare un po’ l’altro e il lieve bacio che ne seguì completò l’opera. Cavolo, questo ragazzo è troppo carino

„Z armády som sa vrátil bez zubov. Bol december, tridsaťstupňový mráz. Ten chalan bol z Kalifornie... Išli sme ho odprevadiť do hotela. Mal na sebe páperku, teplé zimné rukavice, išiel celý taký zababušený po Moskve a oproti nám ide ruský Váňa – s rozopnutým ovčím kožuchom, s pupkom trčiacim spopod trička, bez čiapky a rukavíc. ‚Ahojte, chlapi!‘ – ‚Ahoj!‘ – ‚A to je kto?‘ – ‚Američan.‘ - ‚Ó, Američan!‘ Podal mu ruku, potľapkal ho po pleci. A išiel ďalej. Prišli sme s ním do izby, Američan mlčí. ‚Šéfko! Čo je?‘ pýtam sa ho. - ‚Ja mám páperku, rukavice a on bol holý. Ale ruku mal teplú. S takou krajinou sa nedá bojovať.‘ A ja na to: ‚Jasné, že nedá. Zahádžeme vás mŕtvolami!

Party time Part 1 After school, we go to Maddie’s. When we were little, like freshman year and even some of the sophomore year, we would sometimes stay in her room and put on x-out and pluck out eyebrows into that fine little line, and color our hair with highlights, and order pizza, cramming down as much as we could eat. Those days are going, we can’t get fat. Now Jenny hardly eats anything, and if she does, she can hardly keep it down. I think maybe that’s what I get so lightheaded, I only eat like once a day now. Jenny back then had a little extra around the middle, and now you can see her ribs, she even has that two-defined line on her tummy that goes into her underwear. I remember sneaking around late at night in her hose stealing a cookie from the jar on the top shelf in the old wood cabinet, that is also where her mom would hide her cigarettes that Jenny loved also, and the condoms were in a trinity box on top of the fridge, I sorry but I find that hilarious. At that time, we would stretch out on one of her, old enormous worn-out couches and watch, TV or movies until we fell asleep in our nightshirts’-the TV in Maddie’s living room is like 80 inches it’s like being in a movie theater our legs tangled together under an enormous fleece blanket. Maddie and liv are always entangled more passionately than Jenny and me on the loveseat! Maddie has an ancient TV in her room from the 1990s. It sucks and is small, it’s one of those with the big back on it, and the color is green, like looking into a fish tank. It’s funny her mom and dad don’t have money blinds on the windows, yet they have a big ass TV. You can sometimes see the people in the next condo overlooking us like we can see them get busy in their room! Yet nothing beats the hot guy taking a leak in room 302, he looks to be in his late twenties. He takes the boxes off at 10 pm and we get a free show. He knows we can see him because he makes it look inflexible and you are no more personable. Jenny and we girls love to press upon the glass, and just have fun and be a little crazy, like lifting our nighties and flashing the goods. Facebook stocking gets boring quickly anymore, so some nights the webcam comes out too. After her mom and dad are asleep… I like it’s more fun to be bad! Like we all have profiles and fake names because none of us are eighteen yet. Any- how’s mine is ‘Angel Pink Wings 01’ Maddie goes by: ‘Mad kitty 69’ Jenny goes by: ‘Ms. Little Lover 14’ Liv goes by: ‘Olivia O 123’ Yet everyone knows her by Liv so that name is okay- I guess. We make good money- ‘Double Clicking the Mouse.’ You would not believe all the pervs on this cam the site, just wanting to see us doing it. Like old guys like our PE teacher! Man- that I didn’t even think about how to turn on a computer. Just like him, I guess they need too to see more of us close up. We have our checks mailed to Jenny's college boyfriend’s PO Box. Me this is what I do and yes- I come for you all, I just put in fake blue hair dye in, and have fake long lashes, and put in my blue contacts, and you don’t even know me. And then pen in more eyebrows. Fake, fake, fake, fake FAKE! Boys don’t like it when you fake it or do, they look at me, that's why I am Bi.

Party time Part 1 After school, we go to Maddie’s. When we were little, like freshman year and even some of the sophomore year, we would sometimes stay in her room and put on x-out and pluck out eyebrows into that fine little line, and color our hair with highlights, and order pizza, cramming down as much as we could eat. Those days are going, we can’t get fat. Now Jenny hardly eats anything, and if she does, she can hardly keep it down. I think maybe that’s what I get so lightheaded, I only eat like once a day now. Jenny back then had a little extra around the middle, and now you can see her ribs, she even has that two-defined line on her tummy that goes into her underwear. I remember sneaking around late at night in her hose stealing a cookie from the jar on the top shelf in the old wood cabinet, that is also where her mom would hide her cigarettes that Jenny loved also, and the condoms were in a trinity box on top of the fridge, I sorry but I find that hilarious. At that time, we would stretch out on one of her, old enormous worn-out couches and watch, TV or movies until we fell asleep in our nightshirts’-the TV in Maddie’s living room is like 80 inches it’s like being in a movie theater our legs tangled together under an enormous fleece blanket. Maddie and liv are always entangled more passionately than Jenny and me on the loveseat! Maddie has an ancient TV in her room from the 1990s. It sucks and is small, it’s one of those with the big back on it, and the color is green, like looking into a fish tank. It’s funny her mom and dad don’t have money blinds on the windows, yet they have a big ass TV. You can sometimes see the people in the next condo overlooking us like we can see them get busy in their room! Yet nothing beats the hot guy taking a leak in room 302, he looks to be in his late twenties. He takes the boxes off at 10 pm and we get a free show. He knows we can see him because he makes it look inflexible and you are no more personable. Jenny and we girls love to press upon the glass, and just have fun and be a little crazy, like lifting our nighties and flashing the goods. Facebook stocking gets boring quickly anymore, so some nights the webcam comes out too. After her mom and dad are asleep… I like it’s more fun to be bad! Like we all have profiles and fake names because none of us are eighteen yet. Any- how’s mine is ‘Angel Pink Wings 01’ Maddie goes by: ‘Mad kitty 69’ Jenny goes by: ‘Ms. Little Lover 14’ Liv goes by: ‘Olivia O 123’ Yet everyone knows her by Liv so that name is okay- I guess. We make good money- ‘Double Clicking the Mouse.’ You would not believe all the pervs on this cam. the site, just wanting to see us doing it. Like old guys like our PE teacher! Man- that I didn’t even think about how to turn on a computer. Just like him, I guess they need too to see more of us close up. We have our checks mailed to Jenny's college boyfriend’s PO Box. Me this is what I do and yes- I come for you all, I just put in fake blue hair dye in, and have fake long lashes, and put in my blue contacts, and you don’t even know me. And then pen in more eyebrows. Fake, fake, fake, fake FAKE! Boys don’t like it when you fake it or do, they look at me, that's why I am Bi.

I vecchi si aggrappano al potere e alle loro convinzioni, che ammettono tutti i loro vizi peggiori ma escludono il minimo errore e soffocano la minima innovazione dei giovani. Poi, grazie a Dio, muoiono e non possono fare più danni. Ma ormai noi, i giovani, siamo diventati vecchi, e ci sforziamo di quel po' di male che loro hanno lasciato incompiuto.

So I rose. Now my grandbaby is coming down the stairs we own. Wearing the dress I paid off more than sixteen years ago. Me and Po’Boy, we’ve bought our life back. We’ve scrimped and saved and spent to get what should have been ours outright and always. What should’ve been everything my own grandma paid for. Lucille’s Hair Heaven. Sounds like a place you can walk out of feeling like somebody’s dream for you. Papa Joe’s Supper Club. Can’t help but imagine plates piled high with ribs and greens. Buttermilk biscuits and powdaddy, probably. Hot peach cobblers in cast-iron pans.

Si guardarono, Maan un po' sbilanciato dalla sua franchezza. Gli sembrava che lei tentasse addirittura di trattenersi dallo scoppiare a ridere. "Forse dovrei raffreddarla con un ghazal malinconico" continuò Saeeda Bai. "Sì, perché non prova?" ribatté Maan, rammentando quello che lei aveva detto una volta sui ghazal. "Vediamo che effetto avrà su di me." "Mi lasci chiamare i musicisti" disse Saeeda Bai. "No" rispose Maan, posando la mano sulla sua. "Soltanto lei e l'armonium, basterà." "Neanche il suonatore di tabla?" "Segnerò il tempo col mio cuore" rispose Maan.

Per un po’ si sentì turbato dal loro litigio, ma non molto tempo dopo si ritrovò sulla soglia dell’appartamento di Matthew pronto a chiedere umilmente scusa. Alla fredda luce del giorno si era reso conto che Matthew aveva ragione. Ragazzo o ragazza non aveva importanza. Tutti e due baciavano altre persone in continuazione, cazzo. Perché quella situazione era diversa? La risposta semplice era che non lo era, ma nulla era mai stato semplice. Kai voleva… aveva bisogno di Matthew nella sua vita, ma non riusciva ad accettare di vederlo con una ragazza. Matthew era bisessuale? Solo Matthew lo sapeva. Peccato che non fosse a casa. O che non rispondesse al telefono. O che non andasse al club

Di tanto in tanto, scartabellava i resoconti scarabocchiati per cercare di monitorare il suo stato d’animo di mese in mese, anno dopo anno, ma era passato del tempo e al momento era un po’ spaventato da quello che avrebbe potuto trovare. Era davvero diventato un tale maniaco che era felice solo se si scopava il mondo? Cavolo, sperava di no. Poteva anche essere un pornodivo, ma nella vita c’era altro oltre il sesso. Doveva esserci, perché, il Signore lo sapeva, lui non aveva niente. Almeno, niente che contasse. Ricordò in parte le parole di Sonny. “Sesso vero… quello durante il quale qualcuno ti guarda come se fossi tutto il suo mondo. Nel porno non ti capita, Cam.

Feel the thinness of his body that is cancer eating its way from inside to out and know I’ll be growing old without him. No green drinks or raw diet or holistic doctor over on Flatbush Avenue seems to be helping him. Po’Boy wasting away. Pants half hanging off him even with the tailor on Fulton taking tuck after tuck. Now he’s sitting here in his dark linen suit with his pretty blue shirt underneath and all of it hanging on him like it’s being held up by air. I give his hand another squeeze and he pulls away to look over at me with that smile that says, Don’t even think what you thinking. Smile he passed down to Iris and she handed on to Melody. Lord, I will love that man’s smile till I die. You feel like dancing? he asks me, and I nod. Because I know I don’t have a whole lot more dances with him. I know the dance card God gave us is almost punched through.

«Wow. Non pensavo che sarei riuscito a vederti così.» Cam tremò, non riuscì a farne a meno. Si sentì come se il suo corpo non fosse il suo. «Così come?» «Così...» Sasha sembrò cercare la parola giusta. «Coinvolto, forse? Sullo schermo sembrate tutti un po’ freddi. Immagino di aver pensato che faceste tutto prima.» Cam si prese un momento per riprendersi. Gli tornò in mente una frase e si concesse un sorriso ironico. «Non è la stessa cosa. Quello è lavoro anche se sono con uno dei miei amici. Questo è sesso vero.» «Sesso vero, eh?» Sasha si sdraiò sulla schiena e attirò Cam a sé. «Posso conviverci.» Cam chiuse gli occhi e affondò nel calore della risata sommessa di Sasha e nel peso confortante delle sue braccia attorno a sé. Aveva paura da quel luminoso giorno d’estate in cui sua madre era uscita dalla sua vita, ma in quel momento, nonostante l’incombente prospettiva della terapia e le incertezze che ne derivavano, con Sasha sentiva di poter affrontare il mondo. Affrontare il mondo e vincere.

Piekło kobiet (Tadeusz Boy-Żeleński) - Your Highlight on page 6 | location 81-90 | Added on Sunday, 7 December 2014 14:17:43 Uczynić biedną dziewczynę matką, pozbawić ją pracy dlatego, bo2 się spodziewa macierzyństwa, kopnąć ją z pogardą, zrzucić na nią cały ciężar błędu i jego skutków, i zagrozić jej latami więzienia, jeżeli, oszalała rozpaczą, chce się od tego zbyt ciężkiego na jej siły brzemienia uwolnić — oto filozofia praw, które, aż nadto znać, były przez mężczyzn pisane! Głosić wzniosłe teorie o „prawie płodu do życia”, znów grozić matce więzieniem w imię praw tego płodu, ale równocześnie nie troszczyć się o to, aby nosicielka tego płodu miała co do ust włożyć... I rzecz szczególna, ten sam płód, nad którym trzęsą się ustawodawcy, póki jest w łonie matki, w godzinę po urodzeniu traci wszelkie prawa do opieki prawnej, może zginąć pod mostem z zimna, gdy matka — którą jej „święte” macierzyństwo czyni nieraz wyrzutkiem społeczeństwa — nie ma dachu nad głową. ========== Piekło kobiet (Tadeusz Boy-Żeleński) - Your Bookmark on page 5 | location 74 | Added on Sunday, 7 December 2014 14:19:11

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- Gram w Twojej drużynie – ciągnął z przejęciem. – Rozumiesz? Jestem z Tobą na całego, Shannon Lynch. Jeden telefon, tyle wystarczy, I jestem. Nie zawiodę Cię i nie zostawię z tym samej. Przyrzekam. - To dla mnie po prostu trochę dziwne, bo nigdy nie miałam nikogo w swoim narożniku. – Zadrżałam i dodałam: - Nikogo takiego jak ty. - Shannon, ale ja nie stoję w twoim narożniku – odpowiedział z naciskiem. – Stoję przy Tobie.