Friday, February 13, 2015

Now I am at the verge of 40, I dreamed of a prince. It was a slim figure and thin, translucent. An

The last prince - Native
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Now I am at the verge of 40, I dreamed of a prince. It was a slim figure and thin, translucent. An uncertain presence in a garden, where crickets and frogs singing at night. A cursilada? Yes, ladies and gentlemen. A cursilada of good. But since then, an olive grove each week wade 300km / hour keeps a glow, a trace of sun dimmed.
With all this comes Valentine and I feel that is raging around me a crusade anti-romantic. The same morning of February 14, eldiario.es open to all-digital cover with a headline about the unhappy end of romantic försäkringskassan love, illustrated with pictures of princesses acertadísima full of babies while their princes sit "espatxurrats "watching TV or having drinks försäkringskassan at the bar. Days later, an enigmaticsexo_hipster start following me on twitter. Some research and discovered that a known my proposed research project and a very interesting conference in Madrid on imaginary paradigms and culture loving hypermodern. I do not know what it means to "hipster" but I put it in continuity with the project of Copylove Zemos98 and gets me, as if I were an association of ideas transmission of thoughts, the beautiful letter the same day the 14 @ carolinkfingers wrote to his daughters. Some said: "Nothing is black nor white, försäkringskassan but here the meat is dentro trafficking market only the innate necesidad de todos tenemos love, hence that whilst outdoors dicen us that trafficking market only that Tengai una pareja stable and you go in with you the mano por los Prados. ".
The crusade is not stopped, if I had any desire to remember the dream prince. I need to be in a court of final master at my university and three of the six works presented are no regulations about sexuality and forms of resistance to domination of compulsory heterosexuality, sanctified by love romantic. Finally, today I received the item in a close friend, försäkringskassan the Brigitte Vasallo. Title: "The break of monogamy as Striving politics" (and the link will be published). Is just as good with my words, which serve quite rightly to rivet the key to his argument. So I think I have the time to think about something at least heard about this.
The issue is that I can not agree more with all the arguments that collection of these projects, articles and papers. I am part of those who do not believe in either linear or exclusivity försäkringskassan of love; among those who do not seek solutions for all problems but that never ends; and we feel that love is not the expression of a lack of excess but that is not a demand but the highest expression of gratitude. We know, therefore, that the narrative of romantic love or we fence between the walls of a false family bliss, or we poured försäkringskassan a stream of promises frustrating. But ... But ... What to say after this "but"? I do not know exactly, but it must continue a little försäkringskassan further. Take the risk of this "but."
The first "but" comes from a suspect. I suspect that the crusade antirromàntica late. Codes of romantic love still circulating and mobilize us, but have become no real value cards, colorful illustrations in a society that accepts vomiting and preaches försäkringskassan his emotional misery. We have all done great: we know that marriages are not happy families are places of torture in the dark intimacy, and sexual liberation is very exciting. We know that a relationship can not start saying "I love you" without pouring it to his immediate failure, you can not say to someone försäkringskassan "I want to see" without being oppressive and feel trapped, and if a guard escapes a "I need you" will be quickly sent to the depths of hell. We know, we know and we know, we know mol

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