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Un pugile combatte tutta la vita contro la sua omosessualità. Sto lentamente dimagrendo anche se perdo anche la massa muscolare. I dolori sono fastidiosi ma continui tipo il ronzio di una ventola otturata di polvere. Resisto. Sono sopravvissuto ad un principio di assideramento. Mi sento miracolato ma non ho ancora una somma di danaro per pagare la visita privata di un urologo. I problemi degli altri mi hanno reso indifferente alle mie piccole miserie. Mi guardo nello specchio del bagno prima di fare la doccia sapendo che non tutto è perduto. Non dimenticate, non perdonate, siamo una legione, non ve l’aspettavate?

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Nice che dice.


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My Favorite Books About Writing Nonfiction

Jennifer Keishin Armstrong

41lhhayQO9L._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_I always love reading about writing. I caution students about spending so much time reading about it that they never actually do it, but these books in particular have been invaluable in shaping my own approaches to writing. Some of them focus on nonfiction specifically, while many are great for any kind of writing:

The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell: I use this every time I do a self-edit on a manuscript. It’s also a fun book to read straight through. She uses the editing process for The Great Gatsby — detailed in letters between Fitzgerald and his editor — to show how editing makes everything better.

The New New Journalism, by Robert Boynton: Interviews with all the rock stars of current creative nonfiction — Ted Conover, Erik Larson, Susan Orlean. This is like a fan magazine for nerds like me.

The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron: 

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Racconti di vini

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La combriccola del Blasco.


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Dear Mom in the Waiting Room.

Dear Mom in the Waiting Room,

I didn’t see you at first. What I noticed as we walked in was a young, laughing girl spinning around with a stuffed animal at the end of her outstretched arms. She had that kind of pure laugh that made me smile just hearing it.

We were there for an ultrasound. Not a major procedure, but my son had major stress. My son is autistic, and has a boatload of medical trauma from his years in an orphanage. Add those together, and hospitals don’t end up high on our list. My son didn’t even notice the spinning, laughing girl.

I sat my nervous son down on the couch, gave him his iPad, and went to fill up his water bottle. (“Have him drink lots of water for an hour, and don’t let him pee,” they told us.  Yeah, okay. We had peed 4 times since the parking garage.)

The waiting room…

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