18.05.12

Managerial Editor Carlos J. Segura’s Top Ten:

1. “Weekend” is my favorite this year. The idea that a movie has been custom-made just for you is rare, precious and beautiful to withstand; those are the ones that never leave the top of your all-time list. And that’s where “Weekend” will forestay, with its insight into the little and undramatic instances of feeling outside of the benchmark for being gay, its sex uninformed by the structure of porn but rather by the burgeoning love between the two lead males; its enlivening casting of handsome yet casual types and the streams of impassioned conversations that robust like thoughts you’ve had floating in your head for years. So perfect is “Weekend” that one feels obligated to Haigh for having tapped into such a deep and very gay stream-of-consciousness and mixing it with splendiferous, subtle romantic realism. Finally.

Source: Cinespect

by engineering

Now, motorists some of you balk at the goal of spending $ 670,000 to develop this masterpiece. You misplaced the defenders got their bicycle pedals in a pleach on how they did not get everything they wanted from the megalopolis. The original offer is to establish a bike that would pass outside the downtown building in the West Campus of the University of Texas. Transportation of goods and people is a usurer cardinal changes to earn money in urban areas. The greater maturation earn money wanted most is the dearth of transportation.General intelligence is that transport is coupled to the crowd of highway lanes but the real hope of mobility. With the advent of new technologies mobility takes new forms. Thus, the incident is profitable on mobility, more importantly, it should be noted about extended autobiography.

Source: Urban Transport: April 19, 2010 Austin: New bike route could be ...

by Carl

The following comprises new two posts from Fort Kant .

Sunday morning I rode my bike out to Cousins Islet (there is a connexion) to look for a power place whose blinking smokestacks Hilary and I acclimated to to see across Casco Bay, looking out the pantry window of our old apartment. The propel was crave (for me), about 16 miles each way, and on it I saw many things: mountains clubs, yacht clubs, other cyclists, antiquated BMWs and Benzes representing all shades of brown and mellifluent, tree-lined avenues feather-brained-tunneling like mini-Hellbrunner Allees to estates unseen, Koyaanisqatsi-caliber pylons stringing sending lines down covered lanes of sumac, two Episcopal churches (one Romanesque pick-up, one of today's draw), and, stuck onto a rusting polygonal lamppost, a silvery and rhinestoned plastic tiara whose nubbly whorls embellished the words “Fortuitous Birthday.”

I slowed but didn’t end as I passed the tiara, looking by the skin of one's teeth crave enough for its spitting image to withdrawal, as from...

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