Список историй на "почитать" для мужчин:

Raymond Carver – What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
John Cheever – Collected Stories
James Dickey – Deliverance
John Steinbeck – The Grapes Of Wrath
Cormac McCarthy – Blood Meridian
Fyodor Dostoevsky – The Brother Karamazov
Edward P. Jones – The Known World
Studs Terkel – The Good War
Philip Roth – American Pastoral
Flannery O’Connor – A Good Man Is Hard To Find
Tim O’Brien – The Things They Carried
James Salter – A Sport And A Pastime
Jack London – The Call Of The Wild
Martin Amis – Time’s Arrow
John McPhee – A Sense Of Where You Are
Hunter S. Thompson – Hell’s Angels: A Strange And Terrible Saga
Ralph Ellison – Invisible Man
James Joyce – Dubliners
John Updike – Rabbit, Run
James M. Cain – The Postman Always Rings Twice
Robert Stone – Dog Soldiers
Daniel Woodrell – Winter’s Bone
Jim Harrison – Legends Of The Fall
Malcolm Lowry – Under The Volcano
Norman Mailer – The Naked And The Dead
W.C Heinz – The Professional
Ernest Hemingway – For Whom The Bell Tolls
Michael Herr – Dispatches
Henry Miller – Tropic Of Cancer
Richard Yates – Revolutionary Road
William Faulkner – As I Lay Dying
Michael Shaara – The Killer Angels
Kurt Vonnegut – Slaughterhouse-Five
Robert Penn Warren – All The King’s Men
Ken Kesey – One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest
William Styron – Sophie’s Choice
Frederick Exley – A Fan’s Notes
Kingsley Amis – Lucky Jim
Haruki Murakami – The Wind Up Bird Chronicle
Patrick O’Brian – Master And Commander
Kent Haruf – Plainsong
John Kennedy Toole – A Confederacy Of Dunces
Russell Banks – Affliction
Tobias Wolff – This Boy’s Life
Mark Helprin – Winter’s Tale
Saul Bellow – The Adventures Of Augie March
Charles Bukowski – Women
Stephen Wright – Going Native
Joseph Conrad – Heart Of Darkness
John Le Carrй – The Spy Who Came In From The Cold
F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Crack-Up
George Saunders – Civilwarland In Bad Decline
Leo Tolstoy – War & Peace
Stephen King – The Shining
Sherwood Anderson – Winesburg, Ohio
Herman Melville – Moby Dick
Salman Rushie – Midnight’s Children
Jorge Luis Borges – Labyrinths
Tom Wolfe – The Right Stuff
Richard Ford – The Sportswriter
James Ellroy – American Tabloid
Alex Haley – The Autobiography Of Malcolm X
Richard Ben Cramer – What It Takes
Dashiell Hammett – The Continental Op
Graham Greene – The Power And The Glory
William Maxwell – So Long, See You Tomorrow
Richard Wright – Native Son
James Agee & Walker Evans – Let Us Now Praise Famous Men
Wallace Stegner – Angel Of Repose
David McCullough – The Great Bridge
Jack Kerouac – The Dharma Bums
Larry McMurtry – Lonesome Dove
Vladimir Nabokiv – Lolita
Don DeLillo – Underworld
Mark Twain – The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn

А блин рыскать по инету то сколько ...

The Thousandth Man

By Rudyard Kipling

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it’s worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.
‘Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for ‘ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em go
By your looks or your acts or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him,
The rest of the world don’t matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.
You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he’s worth ‘em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.
His wrong’s your wrong, and his right’s your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men’s sight—
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can’t bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot—and after!

liveinternet.ru/users/pondo...192924111/

Мтак, согласен со списком Daily Telegraph, но там уже всё прочитанно. В пояс поклон преподавателю русского языка и литературы в школе. Даже Шадерлу Де Лакло вспомнили. А вот муки чтения "Капитал" от Маркса я до сих пор помню.

Отметил бы следующий цикл:

Роберт Пирсиг. “Дзен и искусство ухода за мотоциклом” - да!
Ричард Бах. “Чайка по имени Джонатан Ливингстон”
Дуглас Адамс. “Автостопом по Млечному Пути” - Да!
Малкольм Гладуэлл. “Переломный момент”
Дэйв Пельцер (Dave Pelzer). “Ребенок, о котором говорили “оно.”

Дойдя до русского списка начал находить пробелы. В закладки на будущее.
Со списком ВВС не согласен, ну не люблю я Поттера... не люблю.

Не нашёл Симмонсона с его "Гиперион/Эндимион" к моей великой печали и Селби с его жестоким "Последний поворот на Бруклин" и "Реквием по Мечте." Изверги :)

Список Бродского радует и душу и глаз, почти всё прочитанно, но это надо читать уже постарше, лет с 20-ти.

В общем, доброкачественный список того, что дожны прочитать дети перед поступлением в вуз.

liveinternet.ru/users/pondo...192924111/

27 книг, которые необходимо прочитать до 27 лет (по версии журнала Seventeen)
1.Эрих Мария Ремарк "Жизнь взаймы"
2. Оскар Уайльд "Портрет Дориана Грея"
3. Уильям Голдинг "Повелитель мух"
4. Френсис Скотт Фицджеральд "Ночь нежна"
5.Энтони Берджесс "Заводной апельсин"
6.Владимир Набоков "Лолита"
7. Курт Воннегут "Бойня номер пять"
8. Иван Бунин "Легкое дыхание"
9. Франц Кафка "Превращение"
10. Джон

Это цитата сообщения Pondohva Оригинальное сообщение

Быстроблини

Внезапно правильный рецепт блинов, зарисовываю, дабы не потерять.

3 яйца
0,5 л молока (лучше домашнего или просто жирного 3,2% , 3,5%)
1 стакан с горкой муки
небольшая щепотка морской соли
1 ст. л сахара или меда
1 ст. л подсолнечного масла (или оливкового без запаха)
ванилин или семена стручка ванили по вкусу

Это цитата сообщения Mages_Queen Оригинальное сообщение

Результат теста «Цвет и характер»: Серый

- Дорогая, а что же ты не сказала сразу, что ты такая с%ка???
- Сюрприииииииз!

Это цитата сообщения Pondohva Оригинальное сообщение

ЦУ

Мужчина должен уметь говорить три слова: люблю, куплю, поедем ))))

I Am A: True Neutral Halfling Sorcerer (5th Level)


Ability Scores:

Strength-12

Dexterity-13

Constitution-12

Intelligence-15

Wisdom-14

Charisma-13


Alignment:
True Neutral A true neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. He doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most true neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil after all, he would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, he's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. Some true neutral characters, on the other hand, commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They see good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. They advocate the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run. True neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion. However, true neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it represents apathy, indifference, and a lack of conviction.


Race:
Halflings are clever, capable and resourceful survivors. They are notoriously curious and show a daring that many larger people can't match. They can be lured by wealth but tend to spend rather than hoard. They prefer practical clothing and would rather wear a comfortable shirt than jewelry. Halflings stand about 3 feet tall and commonly live to see 150.


Class:
Sorcerers are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.


Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)

Сходил сегодня на присягу. Получил гражданство.
Я так думаю, что я здесь надолго.

))

Это цитата сообщения Mages_Queen Оригинальное сообщение

Рак

[показать] 

Пройти тест.

Ну, сорри если что ))

Karma is a bitch!
Ex decided to tell me that she was seeing someone else when we were seeing each other ...

Результаты гадания

Чай - Сафари Сансет. Настроение - Энергичность

То, что тайфун закрутит корабль судьбы, не страшно – ведь в данном контексте, это скорее морской бой, за которым следует победа, такая же блестящая и значительная, как победа английского флота над испанцами при королеве Елизавете. Как при каждой войне, здесь возможны потери, но выигрыш победителя всегда больше.

... засранцы

kora_f: Когда идёт цунами, в целом уже всё равно, куды и как бежать, имхо.
Александр: Да, но те, кто бежит просто так, без души и фантазии, на ютуб не попадут.

I learned everything I know about becoming irresistible to women from this Russian gangster named Bad Dima one night before they deported him to Petrograd.

He was a regular at this bathhouse where I worked as a bartender, this place called The Human Samovar down in the Financial District. Bad Dima would have been just another middle-aged man trying to steam away his daily troubles if he didn’t always have some throbbing, dewy daydream on his arm drawing the whole spa’s attention.

As it was, Bad Dima was a legend when it came to women, though no one really knew his secret. Some said it was vast riches. Some said he was hung like a horsethief. However, except for being a criminal and except for being a very good customer, there was really nothing unusual about the man.

Bad Dima came in three days a week and stayed until we closed, moving between the sauna and the freezing ice bath before finally settling in our Jacuzzi. There, he would conduct business with underlings while blowing out flavored nicotine vapor from his telltale electric cigarette and then quietly seducing each evening’s lady. The steam of the baths mixed with the steam from the cherry, coffee, peach, mint, or pistachio liquid nicotine that he carried with him in tiny squeeze bottles like eye-drops.

Bad Dima drank nothing but straight tequila, and he settled his tab every night in cash – a big wad of cold, stiff twenty dollar bills – overtipping anywhere from 30 to 40%, even when he was in a foul mood.

He made it a point to learn the names and histories of everyone who worked at The Human Samovar. We had a manager – this skinny weasel with a ponytail named Raphael. But even Raphael took orders from Bad Dima. If we had any problems with customers, Bad Dima would quietly sort them out for us.

New York is a city full of tyrannical people with obsessive habits, and there were lots of regular customers at The Human Samovar who had precious little bath-time routines that we were expected to accommodate. But Bad Dima seemed to understand what it was like to work customer service in a city full of hateful, anonymous assholes who liked to traumatize the underclass with their hostile and repetitive needs.

Instead of being a regular burden, Bad Dima was a regular joy. He listened when all of the immigrants who worked at The Human Samovar bitched about their petty woes. He brought us all honey cakes on our birthdays. He even gave sympathetic advice to the towel attendants and the tea room dishwashers. He understood that simple kindness was priceless in a city where even friendship had a pricetag.

And he always smelled good. He never smelled like sour middle-aged frustration sweat.


***


Bad Dima came to the bathhouse all alone the night before he got deported.

He was the last customer left in the tea room after I was done wiping down all the chrome fixtures on the bar, so I poured him a glass of Patrón and brought it over to him. He thanked me, but then he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer and staring me in the eyeballs.

“Tell me something,” he said. “In all the years I have been coming here, have you ever seen me be cruel or unjust? Have you ever seen me do anything illegal or violent?”

“No way,” I said. “You are the nicest person in all of New York.”

He let go of me and leaned back in his seat, satisfied. Between the flaps of his fluffy robe I could see the sopping curls on his bull chest. His slick hair revealed a prominent widow’s peak that flowed downward to the hooked nose between his clear blue eyes.

“Then what have you seen?” he asked. “Be honest.”

I thought about it. When Bad Dima asked me to be honest, he really meant it. He wasn’t inviting me to kiss his ass.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve seen,” I said. “I’ve seen you chew through every beautiful woman in this city like a starving bear at a fish fandango. Seriously, you have a rare gift.”

Bad Dima laughed at me and saluted me with his glass of tequila before draining it.

“How do you do it?” I asked, sitting down across from him. “I am young, dashing, witty, and I have a steady job, but women won’t even share a cab with me, let alone skin friction and interesting fluids. You seem to pull women to you without even trying. People say it’s because of your money, but I know better. I’ve seen plenty of millionaires strike out in this town.”

“The women I bring here are truly beautiful,” said Bad Dima. “They are not plastic nor are they callow in spirit.”

“That’s the most amazing thing,” I said. “It’s not like you are hooking up with vapid actresses or fashion students. You get real women. Lawyers. Teachers. Executives. Artists. The kind of real women who are looking for real love.”

“I have a complicated life,” admitted Bad Dima. “My biggest regret is that I am sadly not capable of the entanglements that serious relationships require, despite my predilection for mature and vivacious company.”

“I wish I had your charms,” I said, Читать далее...

Just one of these moments when I feel like freewriting in English. Just because. No reason, deep meaning ... well I am still working on that character of mine.
Dedication to self-destruction.
Obviously, thats the most interesting topic for people. Just like tempting desire to throw glaze through door key holes to get a sneak peek into something forbidden, self-destruction became pet-peeve of our age. Something that only "others' do. Something which is commonly refered as "stupid". Immoral. Good boys and girls of course immune to this. Always.
It is a sickness of an educated mind, that realizes his own boundries, to come up with a force that pushes or, rather, twist you from inside in silent command of "Do!"
Its really doesnt matter what, whom or how you are doing .
Oh yes, you can build. Just dont kid yourself, you already half-mastered destruction of your own. And you can't give up that fucking mental drug!

[699x466]
subj

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6Z66U31wr4&feature=related

“What’d you get up to last night?”
“Got wicked drunk.”
“Yeah? Where’d you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I drank at home.”
“You had a party and didn’t invite me? Who showed up?”
“No one. I got drunk by myself.”
“No shit? What’s wrong, man? You wanna talk about it?”

I do wanna talk about it. Not about what my friend wrongly assumed was the dark motivation that would drive me to drink alone, but the very act of drinking alone.

Somewhere along the line people got the idea that solitary boozing is a sure sign that the drinker is about to slip over the edge into something dark and sinister, whether it be suicide, skid row or a staff position at a drinking magazine.

And on the surface, it makes sense. Alcohol is the original social lubricant, after all, it makes any gathering loose and friendly, it has the unique and beatific ability to spin laughter and camaraderie from the dry straw that is the strained silence of the sober. Strangers become friends, friends become cliques and cliques become vast drinking scenes. It is the golden bond that connects you with most of your friends and acquaintances. It sure as hell isn’t a collective interest in stamp collecting that holds the gang together.

Drinking alone, on the other hand, is a much more pure and forthright form of imbibing, and I say that because it focuses entirely on the simple act of putting alcohol into your bloodstream. It tosses aside all the half-hearted pretensions about merely using alcohol as a social tool. It gets down to what drinking is all about: getting loaded, and by doing that, getting down to the inner you. The inner joy, the inner madness, the subconscious you, the real you.

Now, there are those who abhor the very idea of spending a moment with themselves. Put them in a quiet room for five minutes and they’re picking up the phone or turning on the TV. “Deep down in his private heart, no man respects himself much,” Mark Twain was fond of saying, and he was dead right. Why should those people want to hang with their inner selves? That entity is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, and worse, a stranger who knows all their deepest, darkest, most terrible secrets.

Monkey PalWhich, ironically enough, is exactly why you have to hang with him, because sooner or later that bastard will turn on you. The longer you keep him locked up by himself, the weirder he’s going to get, and he will eventually manifest himself as a nervous breakdown or very self-destructive behavior.

That’s where your old pal booze comes into play. You already knew the sauce is the supreme moderator, a perfectly charming go-between when dealing with friends and strangers, but did you also know it is as equally adept at opening up internal lines of communication? Whiskey is the key that sets the monkey free, goes the old saw, and that monkey is your Id, your subconscious mind, the inner you. Instead of letting that monkey out in public, where he tends to go berserk (or so they tell you the next morning), set him loose in a calm room. A quiet place bare of predators and prey. Get to know him. You might be surprised. You might even start liking the little bastard.

Find Your Circle of Solitude
“So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.”—Charles Bukowski

Just as it is nearly impossible to write anything worth reading while someone is looking over your shoulder, it is just as nearly impossible to tap the subconscious mind while drinking in the company of others. Which is a shame because never is the subconscious mind more lucid and willing to speak than when you are loaded.

So find your quiet space. Lower the lighting and unplug the phone. And for the love of God, turn off the TV. That evil box is the antithesis of inner thought, it is a jabbering knave that never shuts up or listens, it is expressly designed to steal your attention and direct it to its own petty needs. Turn it off or, better yet, throw it out the window.

A dining table, in my opinion, is the best place to drink alone. There is something about having the glass and bottle sitting right in front of you, ready for action, it brings to mind Bogart in Casablanca, except you don’t have Sam sitting at the piano, tickling the ivories. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have some music to set the mood.

The Soundtrack of Isolation
“The only thing better than one of my songs is one of my songs with a glass of scotch.” —Jackie Gleason

While you may prefer metal, rap, punk or, egad, techno when you’re out swinging with the gang, the point of drinking alone is not to get pumped up but to hunker down with the inner workings of your psyche. Slow and melodic, even nostalgic music is best. Tom Waits, the Jackie Gleason Orchestra, Johnny Cash and Portishead work for me. You know what puts you in a meditative mood. Find your slow inner beat and cater to it.

Choose Your Moderator
“I let my drinking do Читать далее...