Chaos Black On Gpsphone

As a prologue

The following article is a summary (though long) of what I always thought it should be the aim of this blog, as I said from the beginning, telling pieces of life, experiences of an era, as Gardel said, "That will not come back." Norberto
Kleiman is an excellent storyteller who describes with simplicity and freshness, a whole era. Those who were born in the forties, these glimpses of life shared experiences will make us remember, because who has not tried to sing the lyrics published in "The soul that sings" or tried to learn, even if heard, to play an instrument or as in my case, sit with the teacher piano, the "Pocha", to play four hands? What ice cream after tonsil operation? Common situations that many of us have lived, marked by a long running more smoothly and less haste.

BIT OF HEAVEN

"... the years of childhood, passed, passed ...". What a beautiful night!, The starry sky, the music in the distance, the moon, crickets and a great peace. Contact with the earth, the smell of grass, so I could stay indefinitely, lying on his back looking at heaven, it is true that in the field the sky is clear, even seems to have more stars. "In heaven, the stars in the field ,...".
Every so often, a star blink, it seems as if someone winks at me.
I did not like to recite, but just had to do it, I climbed on a chair and from there and asked my age around me, recited. The audience were my grandparents, my uncles and my parents, of course. And I recited with "German", moving my hands. I do not like my aunt dressed me de Carmen Miranda, but as an only child, nephew and grandson only one, I'd had to endure, was the cost to have that privilege. " How would that be?, "Three years?. And, yes, because the four recorded my first album, in the exhibition that was on the Avenida 9 de Julio to the first anniversary of the revolution of 43, was a cardboard disc, "June 4, la la la la, la la la, history, ta ta ta ta ta, ta ta ta ta ta, ta ta so, so ta ta, ta ta. " "
And as always, your busy, boy leave a cut and say that it is"; imitated Alberto Castillo. "I will give, give you beautiful girl, I'll give you one thing, a thing that begins with c, coffee, coffee" was an artist!, Forgive, Lord, do not know what does!.

was a precocious child, a kind of Pierino Gamba, and the reference is not casual, since I was told - because what I honestly do not remember a pit - a year earlier had "led "the orchestra at the wedding of one of my aunts. The following year came the consecration, "born of you, looking for a song that would unite us, and now I know that is cruel, brutal punishment may I give you, without words ...".¡ Without words!, A success , a hit!, I heard everywhere in the house of my uncles, as my grandparents, let alone in my house. Just a few years later someone appeared singing like me: Ranko Fujisawa, she also sang phonetically, as I guess I should do. Lord, forgive, do not know what does!, Or what he says. For what idea could be, at that age, what it meant to cruel, brutal, punishment? Unfortunately - or should I say lucky? - Has not been documentation of the time - except for a picture where I'm up for a "pony" in Palermo, which even though I did not leave Burrero - and therefore, I could not tell if I wore for recordings of "sailor" - as Gardel - or I put the "tapadito" I had done my Aunt Lydia, the same that I have put in the photo of Palermo (circa 1945).
In that same period, approximately, it is also the recitation of the poem, "the shoes pinch me, means me warm ..." The artistic side of my father inherited it, like father, like son, they say. "... The gate is asleep, so quiet ...".
order to consolidate my career, I had to remove the tonsils - that the time was operating in the throat - but to avoid being traumatized, they told me they would take me to buy a poncho - obviously, I should wanting a poncho, God knows why and for what - and then make ice cream. All I remember is that I sat on his lap de mi madrina y me pusieron un algodón en la cara. Cuando me desperté, el algodón - no sé si era el mismo - me lo estaban pasando por la cola. Mis amígdalas habían pasado a mejor vida. No tuve el poncho, pero sí me dieron helado.
En una foto posterior a esta época, en la que estamos mi hermano menor y yo montando sendos "petisos " en Palermo, mi hermano tiene puesto un poncho; de manera que, o a mí me compraron el poncho, que al quedarme chico pasó a mi hermano, o bien a él también le extirparon las amígdalas; esto último es lo más probable, ya que, unos años después, mi hermano también cantaba. La nuestra era una familia de artistas.
Muchos años después, cuando vi lo que le hicieron a " Farinelli " perdoné definitivamente a mis padres pues comprendí que pueden suceder cosas peores en la vida de un artista. Dentro de todo, no nos podemos quejar; tanto mi hermano como yo tenemos voz gruesa, aunque, quién puede saber como habrían sido nuestras vidas con voz finita. "...y en aquel pedacito de cielo, se quedó tu alegría y mi amor...".

La terraza de la pensión " Apolo " - Tucumán 950, frente a la casa de mis abuelos maternos - es el nuevo escenario de mis aventuras artísticas. En la misma pensión vivía "otro" gran artista, el maestro Andrés Chazarreta, folklorista (¿habrá sido por eso the poncho?). San Juan had reached some families who had lost their homes in the earthquake.
I played with the boys on the terrace had a small bike and as I had learned to walk, had taken the wheels. He practiced with the bike - probably to work in a circus, I suppose - doing tricks when one of those lost my balance and fell, with the bad - or good - so that the handle crushed me - oh, what a pain! - The thumb of his right hand finger swelled and I was all black. I was told that I would fall down the nail, but it did not matter because it would grow, but as I was going to have to make hot water baths of alibur. My mom was trying to convince me that the water was not hot, when I had the luck - good or bad? - It got my grandfather Pedro. My grandfather was very tall, was good but had a very strong character - it was very authoritarian - and little patience. Why not stick your finger?. Is very hot. Why not try? Is very hot. Probe. It is very ..., I grabbed the right hand and tried to force her into the container, the water alibur went to hell, to me sent to hell and my grandfather retired angry and defeated. Over the years I learned that the geniuses have always been misunderstood by our contemporaries, even if they were family. And with Don Andres Chazarreta learned the importance of the nails, to be a good guitar.

"... the years of childhood, spent, spent ,...".
I still on earth is the sky above and then comes the music, far away, that croak, will they be toads or frogs? Free association, I remembered the piano teacher of my childhood.
already had more than six years because we lived in Almagro, at Sarmiento 3815, ground floor, "B" - Sarmiento and Bulnes - off the square. I wanted to study piano, my friend Osvaldo studying piano with a good teacher, but had to travel, so I went to a teacher who was to return home, Bulnes between Sarmiento and Valentin Gomez. I did not study a long time, I can not give any opinion about his professional qualifications, not in a position to judge and - to be honest - do not even know if that was what mattered most to me at that time, more honestly, I think was not what mattered most to me or was this the reason why I left my teacher. What I really was away from her she was ugly, it was not too old or too ugly, just ugly and that was enough. I had pimples, curlers in her hair and smelled like "Manuelita" - Divine Treasury - not the Pehuajó, but the Federal Soap.

Maybe I was not quite developed my musical approach, but obviously if my aesthetic criteria. I think it is also clear that for the time, and it was not enough to spiritual beauty was beginning to need more material things. I imagine that my fantasies were to be become the Kalender Prince - the average program Himalaya - and terminating in the notice of a famous perfume, kissing with the violinist. While I took many years to recover from that experience and reconnect with the piano, I never gave up music. I always liked music, I always liked the piano, I never liked the ugly women. Sounds hard but it's the truth. Over time I realized that in reality did not matter if the piano teachers were nice or ugly because at that time were those who studied piano and girls or babies of mother, ie ladybugs, my friend Osvaldo was the exception to the rule.
I still had to prove what he was, for which they had to first be clear about who I was, that I was not easy. With a fearful and overprotective mother and surrounded by women - my aunts and my uncles premiums - to which also seemed really fun to paint and dress up as Carmen Miranda - As I told you - now do not play with dolls, is a miracle. Why, when we were playing the ball to the square or cut "of" Valentín Gómez, I always put me in goal?, Everybody knows what that means, it was a terrible player. Confirmation that my future was not in my legs I had when my aunt tried to teach me to dance Sofi, was a log. But, as then, dancing was the only way to hug a girl, there was no alternative, had to dance. And I danced, danced, and I still have not lost hope that one day learn.
I think only then began to perceive what that somehow had sensed but could not find my piano teacher, the sensuality of the music.
"Arrorro my child, my lullabies sun ...";" sleep now, sleep now ..."; the lullaby, the first contact with music and sensuality.
"Singin 'I gave my heart with love and since he left, I sing my pain. I found singing, singing I lost it, because I can not mourn, I will die singing."
Ana - Anita, brunette and Entre Rios - working on my house Almagro sang all day and was in love with Julio Martel, it said. On Saturday night, when my parents went out, got into my bed - dressed - And it was nice.
listened to the "Glostora Tango Club" with the orchestra of Alfredo D'Angelis, Carlos Dante with his singers and Julio Martel.
"comes meandering through the gorge, the pastor, his flock and his tarararará ..." I was in love with the shepherdess "blond color of wheat fields, but it was an impossible love because he had fallen to the Pedregal (?) And there was a star back because it had led to "where it will not return" (?) and for that reason I was not going to hear more "its tararararará." I was sad and suffered greatly from this impossible love, yet I was not prepared for the possible love.
The stars are there in the sky above me, every now and then, blink, which of them will be brought to my pastor?.
"... the years of childhood, spent, spent ... The Corsican
Avenida Saenz - Pompeii - knew the street musicians and the Cine-Teatro Medrano - Corrientes and Medrano - the groups, these were my first contact with art underground.
My dad gave me a harmonica, but for now only play "La Paloma" - "... Ay ay ay, dove of my soul! ... "- But when I grow big and be famous as Hugo Diaz.
" ... the gate is asleep, so quiet ... "
If I could remember - with clarity - exactly when started pass something, or at what stage began to not pass something, maybe I could understand some things.

"of poets and crazy, we all have a little." For example, when I became a poet and when I started not to be, if they ever left? Apparently - from what I remember - I went to eight years. At that age, I wrote a poem about the "Tracker Fournier" or, rather, on its collapse, which was published in the journal "Mundo Infantil" publisher Haynes. The "Tracker Fournier" disappeared into the "cold" waters of the Atlantic. I remember what struck me at that time - for some reason I still do not understand - was that of "cold" water. As if the cold made more tragic, or terrible, or more painful. I do not know what happened to the poem, if you know what happened with the publisher Haynes: disappeared, as the Tracker, "and the poet, what happened? When I stopped being a poet, if it ever be stopped?; Do not know, just know that many years later, when they sank the General Belgrano, in the same cold water, I did not write any poem. "... And that little piece of heaven ..."
What the artist child what happened, what I did with him? Did I have done the same thing they did to "Farinelli", or just grew up and forgot to play?. Today I'm not interested in explanations, I do not care back memories.
"So many things have gone to the realm of oblivion ...".
Then I went to commercial, then studied economics, then I cinema advertising, spent many years next to an artist who had studied architecture, he studied music and was director of cinema now what?
"... it is not returned because you've forgotten, is that I lost the way back ...".
If, as Tom Thumb, had been throwing stones, instead of crumbs, maybe ...
In the sky, the stars appear bright pebbles ...
"... the years of childhood, gone, gone, the fence is so quiet and asleep in that little piece of heaven, it was your joy and my love ...".
Now, in this slice of heaven, my old man winked. Norberto


Kleiman - 1997.

Can U Get A Yeast Infection From Getting Fingered

THE BIG THREE AND THE ONCE FAMOUS IDISHES PERFUMERIES

I'm not very fond of copying articles circulating the Internet and less when not on its author but in this case, the story sent me my old friend Norberto Kleiman deserves to be hung on this page that shortly after I found trace their origin in http://elcuerpodecristo.com/article/72 . More than a fellow of the community surely remember the neighborhood of eleven in the forties and who is not these three great classics of Kosher as well described by Jorge Schussheim.


age will not know you, but when I was a kid, back in the '40s (1940, not 1840) and among Jews, someone said "NEMIROWSKY, BRUSELOWSKY, SZMEDRA" between Jews that was instantly understood talking about the corner of Pasteur and Corrientes, or that one was thinking of Junin between Lavalle and Corrientes, or who had just returned from Uriburu between Lavalle and Tucumán, where he worked directions the three great and famous perfume ídishes: As a woman descended from the store owners Corrientes and Pasteur, whose surname was Nemirowsky, I should not refer to this store as Nemirowsky, but as Corrientes and Pasteur, as it actually Nemirowsky tended the store was not the real Nemirowsky and detail that it has greatly affected. (This is another example of the indomitable spirit that encourages Jews). With regard to this designation, we notice that if anyone says that they were the three largest and most famous perfume ídishes of Eleven, but storage classic Jewish community, please could not crean.Almacenes Apparently if they are visible from outside. Because it was when you walked ...: the first concentrated flavors, depending on whether you entered Nemirowsky to Bruselowsky or Szmedra - were also in that order - that of Ulik and schmaltz , Herings, the sour the cucumbers and the fresh leberwurscht. Immediately followed the kimmel broit of Goldstein, that of smoked mullet and caliente.En pastrom of the three perfumes, also smelled wonderfully acidic and sauerkraut stored in wooden barrels, a white cheese with scallions and paprika, to smétene fresh, a juicy duck sausage (I never knew why it was called duck, and, of course, rule out any possibility that develop with duck. Perhaps alluding to the client's condition), at the terrifying amounts of wurschtn garlic hanging from the ceiling and honey and knishes and béigalaj léicaj and matze and even sometimes fancied a lejanísimos aromas legitimate imprisoned in a bottle of Russian caviar or in round tins smoked Baltic sprätn. Oh, these perfume of my childhood! "And the perfumers, or the owners? First, Nemirowsky, or Mr. Pasteur and Corrientes. Nemirowsky - Pasteur and was like Valenti currents of the time: People queue for hours to buy exquisiteces.Ver work was as fascinating as Nemirowsky see work at a snake charmer. When I asked a herring Bobe, he, with an apron full of, stains and buttoned sleeves around the wrist, put his hand, arm, and> of course, the sleeve in the depths of thick brine, a herring caught and is awaiting aprobación.Supongo showed that goes without saying that the aroma it gave off the famous perfumer was not exactly parisino.Nemirowsky always had two barrels of herrings. One common with weighing herring. The other oy, vey, the other!, With fat, greasy and sublime pesos.Súbitamente Ulik two, a Saturday morning and no one would have foretold nothing , Appeared a third black barrel with a small blackboard on which he had written a compelling phrase: "Herrings very special, $ 3c / u. Only two per person ".¡¿¡ Three dollars for a single herring!?!" My Bubbie Esther and I arrived in the middle of chaos. Customers skated in pools of brine, struggled to take two herring-regulatory and sporting a greedy grin on their faces, fled her breasts pressing them to devour in the privacy of their homes (this paragraph is pure schmaltz). My grandmother, seeing this tells perfumer Monsieur le: Give me three dollars a herring to try Mr Nemirowsky and type, I knew very well who was who in this universe called Once, and I will answer: "Those herring are for pure business, not for you Frau Schusshein .- Is not for me? And may I ask why? Because those are for pure business herring, herring salesman repeated .- And that means pure business? Nemirowsky nervous look in all directions, low voice and confesses: "Because I put that barrel herrings that are being ugly on the other barrels, frau Schusshein.Después was Bruselowsky.Bruselowsky was the most expensive and, therefore, the most fino.Un large wooden desk U-shaped fencing to Bruselowsky, Victor- his trusted employee - Mrs Bruselowsky and three huge bookshelves, filled to the rafters with cans, bottles, bags, packages, bottles and paquetitos.Allí you could buy herring and bread as in Goldstein's pastrom Nemirowsky and that got rid of so tender, but also and mainly, spices and products from around the mundo.Había Jalvo Greek, Polish vodka, Norwegian cod, Czech slivovitz, cherry Uruguayan Portuguese anchovies, sardines, Danish, and even well criollos.Pero matze iguerkes and more exotic the product was in it for Bruselowsky was not edible, but too dark, her skin was sallow Victor.Victor and black hair slicked back , which gave her the appearance of "Romanian?," Hungarian?, Turco, efcher? His appearance made him look like an experienced man with a past tormentoso.A Despite this curious appearance a Jew, Victor took care of everyone in a Castilian so perfect that even had a small provincial leave, a Castilian who only left when I had to add. Then mumbled rapidly in a dratzig finef ídish, ain a zvonzig, zibn a fiftzig ....- are eighteen sixties. Please pay in caja.Muchos years after having met and mindedness typical teenager, after a purchase and the corresponding amount in idish, encouraged me and I hit preguinté: Sorry, Victor, but you, How part of the world was born? - I looked as surprised and answered with the same ease with which sputtered the idish that came listening to old Bruselowsky from did not know how many years: - "Io? For in Lules in Tucumán ... Now understand what the face? And finally, Szmedra. But Szmedra of Junin, but the original legitimate Uriburu.Para Szmedra of me, Szmedra amounted to Sunday. Winter Sunday went to the Yankees, who were my uncles, Max and Guitcha false, Oleg and Múndek Lanka. Dad's friends from childhood and ghetto survivors, lived at the corner of Terrero and Galicia, and in the enclosed patio dining - living-kitchen - this house, Sunday afternoon tea became cena.A the five o'clock in the afternoon of Sunday, instead of mourn for Ignacio Sanchez Mejia, my father and I entered Szmedra in the arena. On the left, three cast iron tables with marble tops white. On the right, also a long white marble counter. While customers roared with impatience, Madame Szmedra leberwurst announced the departure of heat to the plaza. At that time he made his entrance Szmedra himself with a pot the size of a cow and began in a leberwurschtn ASAC long, misshapen and smoking, without hesitation cut each half with a diagonal cut that caused the surrender instantly leber ay offered me a slice, with the same gesture with which the matador delivers hot leberwuscht montera.Ese bitter was just one of the world's greatest delights. Even Debrecziner bunches of sausages, smoked and spicy, or the juicy slices of freshly baked pastrom my dad could also buy it frozen comparar.Esas afternoon in the Yankees, with a brass samovar filled with boiling water in the center the table and the essence of tea in your turkey up and around the samovar, plates and dishes of those wonderful sausages, bread basket filled with slices of fresh, warm broit kimmel and durito plétzalaj those tiny seeds with onions and poppy; sources Sweet-sour cucumbers, radishes, sliced \u200b\u200bwhite and cream cheese, smoked fish, and artenques spratn with onion cheesecake, homemade jams and freshly baked leicaj; those Sundays accounted for major ritual of the old friends schtetl, the kumzits ancestral.Pero for me, was the time of sacrifice and sanctified the promises fulfilled by the Big Three and the Once Famous Perfume Idishes. Jorge Schussheim

Where To Buy Router In Singapore

When you remember how we spent that afternoon after school, between the cup Toddy, French bread spread with lard and sugar, the duties and the path to play, has the feeling of having lived on another planet. This generation
scanned objects that other technologically naive and craft their own games because the bearing, the balls, yo-yo, the range and measure the ball and figurines, cut his teeth on the sidewalk in the neighborhood and not sitting compartmentalized in an Internet. During the year there
season for each game so that at times dominated the ball bearing decorated with abundant studs, balls that rolled into the small hole in the ground with a blow it cleaned and passed the palm of your hand to remove any debris around as if it were a bocce court or cardboard figures with the faces of artists, soccer players and racing champions.

The only game that season was not was the ball. Any opportunity was good to build a team, forming mounds with bricks, cans or what we had on hand to make the mouth bow and prepare to play a dive in the pasture.

Everything was more environmentally friendly as we would say today including a wall, that wall piece of fine revoked preferably make an angle to the sidewalk fair play to the figures that came from five small separate paper envelopes the album to collect them. The form was stamped in circular, oval and rectangular but some recall the metal also known as "badges."
The prize for whoever managed to fill the album was almost always a bicycle or a pair of skates but to maintain a rate of sales the manufacturer failed to include certain players in the collection or he had done so much so that in the rush to get " the difficult ones ", those that allow complete the album, we were forced to buy more or get them playing.
was an almost sensual pleasure to manipulate the figures stack to count and know how was our capital, causing them to slide with the thumb of one hand to the palm of the other standing out clearly the news of the worn by the constant bustle of a player to another.
And the challenge was how to play poker, we hoped to make more figurines often risking the few that we had and with the addition of us with those difficult opponent in the end we had that long without choice but to his misfortune.
The "tapadita" was a way to play but usually had to have more figures that playing "rolled her." The first was a simple game, just had to support the figurine on the wall at one meter from the ground, release and as the floor was filled with them were more likely than a fall on another covering it partially or completely, a condition of winning the game and take all. The Fall often depended on a gentle breeze crossing the playing area with which the player took precautions to move the launch point to the right or left trying a tapadita accurate.
The other game mode was to be at a distance from the wall between the players agreed that they could be more than two as opposed to "tapadita" and each in turn launched his figurine. The leaning was getting closer to the wall was the priority pick it up and whizzed up and down, which left the image up (face), went to be owned and those that were down (dry) were collected by the next player who did the same. Time to wallow depended on the order in which the figures were approximate to the wall. But if any of the players to start the game was a "mirror", ie getting stay figurine standing on the sidewalk and leaning against the wall, was the priority of Revol.
simple, naive and exciting to spend the evening with no joystick or gamepad.