Bed of roses

twitter: @eugenio_fouz

-@tumblr-

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Bon Jovi, “Bed of roses”

@YouTube video, 7:33 mins.

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Lyrics: 

Sitting here wasted and wounded
At this old piano
Trying hard to capture
The moment this morning I don’t know
‘Cause a bottle of Vodka’s still lodged in my head
And some blonde gave me nightmares
Think that she’s still in my bed
As I dream about movies
They won’t make of me when I’m dead
With an ironclad fist
I wake up and french kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head
While we’re talking
About all of the things that I long to believe
About love, the truth, what you mean to me
And the truth is …

(…)

 

#PDF

https://tinyurl.com/4w3njwu8

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-@imgur-

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I do teach a foreign language

twitter: @eugenio_fouz

-@tumblr-

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Whenever I speak English I am being a teacher of a foreign language. Love letters, words & paragraphs. A dictionary addict I am, a book lover, a reader

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If I speak English to my people, I do teach English language

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-Modern teacher-

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Quora.com

Hridith Sudev
August 19, 2019
Author, Environmentalist,TED Speaker, Nerd
Is it bad to read too many books?
Yes.

Very, very bad.

All the way till 8th grade, I used to keep a record of all the full-length books that I had read (got lazy eventually and stopped it). By then, I had read around 800 fictions and well over 300 non-fictions. Now you might be thinking, “Wow! Impressive for an eight grader.” But, let me tell you what happened.

I began to lose originality. Unwittingly most works I wrote seemed plagiarised.
I became excessively paranoid about the world and started questioning everything.
I started hating the world and its system because everyone is essentially a conniving schemer.
My room started having less and less space as more and more of it got filled with books.
I began to talk too much at parties and social events about philosophy and politics, that people began avoiding me all together.
I had trouble playing soccer without calling out even the slightest of missplays or rule-breaks.
I started to annoy my teachers, especially Biology and History teachers by asking too many questions, adding on to and correcting their statements and by talking too much in the class.
Every single time I tried to flirt with a girl, it ended up becoming a metaphysical debate and eventually it became evident that I would never get laid.
My parents and brother stopped talking during meals because I had the uneasy knack to change any conversation into a History or Science lesson.
I began to hate, mourn or fall in love with fictional characters.
I had to start a new Instagram page because my suddenly overflowing poetic urge forced me to give an entire space for my poems alone.
I spent all my money on books and ended up being the most broke person in high-school.
I developed depression because as Rob Gillham already said[1], “Nobody understands you like Tolstoy.”.
I engaged in philosophical debates with my own mirror self!
Finally, what’s worse! I began to write on Quora!

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#PDF

https://tinyurl.com/y8kg7hmu

 

 

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