tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24148436358003690412012-02-16T10:43:00.211-08:00Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.comBlogger81100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-72784226493400918622008-05-01T09:10:00.001-07:002008-05-01T09:14:53.986-07:00<pre style="font-family: georgia;">Une île<br />Une île au large de l'espoir<br />Où les hommes n'auraient pas peur<br />Et douce et calme comme ton miroir<br />Une île<br />Claire comme un matin de Pâques<br />Offrant l'océane langueur<br />D'une sirène à chaque vague<br />Viens<br />Viens mon amour<br />Là-bas ne seraient point ces fous<br />Qui nous disent d'être sages<br />Ou que vingt ans est le bel âge<br />Voici venu le temps de vivre<br />Voici venu le temps d'aimer<br /><br />Une île<br />Une île au large de l'amour<br />Posée sur l'autel de la mer<br />Satin couché sur le velours<br />Une île<br />Chaude comme la tendresse<br />Espérante comme un désert<br />Qu'un nuage de pluie caresse<br />Viens<br />Viens mon amour<br />Là-bas ne seraient point ces fous<br />Qui nous cachent les longues plages<br />Viens mon amour<br />Fuyons l'orage<br />Voici venu le temps de vivre<br />Voici venu le temps d'aimer<br /><br />Une île<br />Une île qu'il nous reste à bâtir<br />Mais qui donc pourrait retenir<br />Les rêves que l'on rêve à deux<br />Une île<br />Voici qu'une île est en partance<br />Et qui sommeillait en nos yeux<br />Depuis les portes de l'enfance<br />Viens<br />Viens mon amour<br />Car c'est là-bas que tout commence<br />Je crois à la dernière chance<br />Et tu es celle que je veux<br />Voici venu le temps de vivre<br />Voici venu le temps d'aimer</pre><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-7278422649340091862?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-37635604158683509352008-05-01T08:57:00.000-07:002008-05-01T09:01:42.868-07:00Ils s'éveillent à l'heure du berger<br />Pour se lever à l'heure du thé<br />Et sortir à l'heure de plus rien<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br />Elles elles ont l'arrogance<br />Des filles qui ont de la poitrine<br />Eux ils ont cette assurance<br />Des hommes dont on devine<br />Que le papa a eu de la chance<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br /><br />Venez venez danser<br />Copain copain copain copain<br />Copain copain copain<br />Venez danser<br />Et ça danse les yeux dans les seins<br /><br />Ils se blanchissent leurs nuits<br />Au lavoir des mélancolies<br />Qui lave sans salir les mains<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br />Ils se racontent à minuit<br />Les poèmes qu'ils n'ont pas lus<br />Les romans qu'ils n'ont pas écrits<br />Les amours qu'ils n'ont pas vécues<br />Les vérités qui ne servent à rien<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br /><br />[Refrain]<br /><br />L'amour leur déchire le foie<br />C'était c'était c'était si bien<br />C'était... vous ne comprendriez pas...<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br />Ils prennent le dernier whisky<br />Ils prennent le dernier bon mot<br />Ils reprennent le dernier whisky<br />Ils prennent le dernier tango<br />Ils prennent le dernier chagrin<br />Les paumés du petit matin<br /><br />[Refrain]<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-3763560415868350935?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-15099978332667579002008-04-25T07:27:00.000-07:002008-04-25T07:31:14.485-07:00Il fatto che io non dorma bene non sembra inquietare nessuno. Il fatto che io abbia traversato il mondo per essere qui non sembra contare per nulla. Il fatto che io sono colui che gli stia vicino durante tutte le sessioni di chemioterapia non conta neppure. Io qui non ho nessun importanza. Siete tutti dei coglioni. Morite subito ché non ho più voglia di vedervi.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-1509997833266757900?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-87935443607224242562008-04-23T17:58:00.000-07:002008-04-23T18:41:38.042-07:00Ciò che ho da dire è un invettivo contro la genitrice del mio fidanzato.<br /><br />Cominciamo col fatto che non mi è mai piaciuta, poi chiediamoci perché. Sin dall'inizio non ha preso il nostro rapporto sul serio, dicendo che non avrebbe durato, e questo probabilmente perché lei stessa è stata due volte divorziata. Ma dire al figlio che non durerebbe? Ma torniamo al dunque...<br /><br />Questa donna non mi piace perché tutto ciò che fa sembra richiedere uno sforzo che non è pronta a dare. Dall'atto più semplice al più complicato, ma specie gli atti più semplici, tutto sembra essere alquanto troppo difficile. Oggi, suo figlio, cioè mio fidanzato, ha scoperto che aveva un embolo nel braccio, ergo è dovuto andare subito all'ospedale. La mamma che si è lamentata tutto il percorso, e ha persino detto che se non stesse piovendo, gli avrebbe detto di rientrare a piedi. Che sfaticata!<br /><br />Ci sono altre considerazioni. Il fatto che lei pensi al suo fidanzato prima di suo figlio mi sta pure sul cazzo. Comunque sia, ho voglia di dire soltanto questo:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Svegliati cogliona!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-8793544360722424256?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-74761304785868763482008-04-22T13:39:00.001-07:002008-04-22T14:01:21.086-07:00I hereby thank everyone who ever fought for Australia's freedom, and more generally freedom as a value to be pursued.<br /><br />I hereby boycott ANZAC day and will never be seen having anything to do with it again. The position of the RSL diggers' descendants in unacceptable. I doubt anyone who gave their life for their country would agree that it is a good idea to ban their descendants from marching with their unit. Not only is it not a good idea, it disgusts me.<br /><br />People know when they're not wanted, so I genuinely hope the RSL is successful in alienating the only people left who cared.<br /><br />Upon further reflection, I think people are missing the entire point about ANZAC day. In an article to be found <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/fight-won-to-honour-a-hero-finally-home/2008/04/22/1208742943227.html">here</a> one person was quoted as saying "Let the diggers enjoy their one day of the year - it's about them and their sacrifice, not the relatives."<br /><br />I wish I hadn't read that. It's disappointing. ANZAC day, yes, is a chance to show respect and gratitude for diggers' sacrifices. But it's not a chance to glorify war. It's a chance to hope that these terrible events never repeat themselves. So are we saying that once the last digger is gone, that we forget, we abandon the holiday? Who'll march when the veterans are gone?<br /><br />Not me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-7476130478586876348?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-24249030241948400432008-03-31T06:41:00.000-07:002008-03-31T06:43:56.472-07:00Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? Nescio, sed fieri sentio excrucior.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-2424903024194840043?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-13277507686771096312008-03-29T00:08:00.000-07:002008-03-29T03:41:57.204-07:00Today I proudly proclaimed that I was making a new beginning.<br /><br />And today, a new beginning was forced upon me.<br /><br />Cancer sucks, I want you all to know.<br /><br />But profoundly, when I told a mate I loved him, this was the response:<br /><br />"i know exactly how you feel mate, no need to define it."<br /><br />And that's the deepest, most philosophical thing I've ever heard.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-1327750768677109631?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2414843635800369041.post-85978532251677754832008-03-28T18:15:00.000-07:002008-03-28T18:21:18.499-07:00"Ma sicuramente andrà a finire che andremo tutti a vivere in un posto paradisiaco e guadagneremo con un chiosco in riva al mare il tanto per vivere allegramente."<br /><br />Il Blebo.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2414843635800369041-8597853225167775483?l=nodaywithoutaline.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14401923137542960182noreply@blogger.com0