<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093</id><updated>2011-11-26T21:08:48.951-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit from my Head</title><subtitle type='html'>Shit that comes out of my head.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>107</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5521833232330289184</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.034-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:46:03.111-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yo, Y. (En)Hace mucho tiempo, mas tiempo del que te puedes imaginar. (Y es más tiempo del que puedes imaginar, porque esto paso antes de que el tiempo lo midieran los humanos), ahí estaba yo.No tenia ojos como los tienes tu, ni podía ver como lo haces tu. No tenía nariz. No tenía sentido del gusto ni del tacto, ni se escuchaba nada. En otras palabras, yo conocía las cosas, diferente a como lo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5521833232330289184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5521833232330289184&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5521833232330289184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5521833232330289184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/yo-y.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-9041682228806936543</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.033-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:45:29.028-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Puse las veladoras en el jardín.Las puse a la interpérie.Las deje a la deriva de los elementos y al mover del viento.Las desamparé en un mar de flores.Las deje a que se defiendan solas.Con sus llamas.Con su rectitud.Con su conciencia.Añoro su regreso triunfal.Deseo mas que nada su salvación.En el nombre del padre,y del hijo,y del espíritu santo.Las bendigo y abandono.Esperando su pronto </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/9041682228806936543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=9041682228806936543&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/9041682228806936543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/9041682228806936543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/puse-las-veladoras-en-el-jardn.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5482573968042895374</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.032-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:45:11.962-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Now, What possible reason, would I have to commit murder?None. Not really.So then why do you want to?I'm not even sure I do.So then why do you keep thinking about it?Well, I guess it's a thrill seeking mental activity. I guess, I guess, murder would be a thrill.I imagine the scene, as best I can. I stand straight up. My arm raised with a pistol in my hand. The shot has just been fired. Smoke </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5482573968042895374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5482573968042895374&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5482573968042895374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5482573968042895374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/now-what-possible-reason-would-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-7149910154928444587</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.031-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:44:49.451-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This is the dilema, even grater still.Two men stand looking at each other in an empty room. Their names are Jhon and Peter.From Jhon's point of view:J = IJP = YouPFrom Peter's point of view:P = IPJ = YouJIf Jhon = I and Peter = I, then, ¿Peter = Jhon?. No. IJ is diferent from IPFrom Jhon's point of view:Jhon imagines looking at himself from Peter's point of view.P = Ii (I imagined)J = Youi (You </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/7149910154928444587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=7149910154928444587&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7149910154928444587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7149910154928444587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-is-dilema-even-grater-still.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-2964783977343636103</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.030-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:44:15.117-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Si,Yo soy sereno, Yo = Sereno, Y = SYYo soy calmado, Yo = Calmado, Y = CEntonces,Sereno es Igual a Calmado, Sereno =  Calmado, S = C¿Correcto?Sí.¿Se podría decir que Yo soy Sereno más Calmado?Y = S + CSí.Pero entonces:Si,Yo soy feliz, Yo = Feliz, Y = FYYo soy triste, Yo = Triste, Y = TEntonces,Feliz es igual a Triste, Feliz = Triste, F = T¿Correcto?No.Esto no es correcto: Y = F + T¿Donde esta la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/2964783977343636103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=2964783977343636103&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2964783977343636103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2964783977343636103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/si-yo-soy-sereno-yo-sereno-y-s-y-yo-soy.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-3549895100123383211</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.029-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:43:59.919-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saly era una niña traviesa, de Bogotá, con cabello mono como el sol. Andaba mordiendo una hoja de pasto, en el parque cerca a su casa, cuando de pronto, y sin anuncio, se acerco un hombre malo, vestido de negro.Hola pequeña - dijo el hombre maloSaly, no noto su presencia por unos momentos, y cuando levanto su cabeza para ver  al hombre malo, el reflejo del sol, no le permitió ver su cara </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/3549895100123383211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=3549895100123383211&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3549895100123383211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3549895100123383211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/saly-era-una-nia-traviesa-de-bogot-con.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1871491276521400029</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.028-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:43:41.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Este texto está explicado para propósitos informativos solamente. Yo no soy responsable si alguien se inflinge daño o inflinge daño a otros utilizando esta información. Después de todo, la información quiere ser libre.Haga un tanque de 3 metros x 3 metros de madera, recubierto por plástico adentro. De 90 centimetros de alto. Para echar ahí 50 arrobas de hoja de cocaÉchele al tanque con las hojas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1871491276521400029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1871491276521400029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1871491276521400029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1871491276521400029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/este-texto-est-explicado-para-propsitos.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-3506391818575272822</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.027-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:42:50.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cuando pienso en las cosas que puedo hacer.Pienso que podría hacer de el mundo un mejor lugar. Para mí. No para los otros, pues ellos tendrán diferentes ideas, sobre lo que es un mejor lugar.Pero cuando pienso en hacer del mundo un mejor lugar, siempre llego a la conclusión, de que para mí, un mejor lugar es compartir cosas mejores con otros. Sentarme a cocinar con alguien y disfrutar jusntos de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/3506391818575272822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=3506391818575272822&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3506391818575272822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3506391818575272822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/cuando-pienso-en-las-cosas-que-puedo.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-6213695459787341934</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.026-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:42:30.459-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Los llantos de tus labios,al contacto con mi piel,hicieron surcos en mi serla linea de tu caminaral cargar con mi enfermedadproducían a la vista, piedadvibraba placerde pelos negrosal ritmo de sus senosme diluí en tu olorperdido en estupor</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/6213695459787341934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=6213695459787341934&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6213695459787341934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6213695459787341934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/los-llantos-de-tus-labios-al-contacto.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5497946681801552952</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.025-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:42:13.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Creo que estoy perdiendo mi apetito sexual, característico de mi adolescencia. Lo extraño de perder mi apetito, no es que lo esté perdiendo, es que tengo 32 años.Los suculentos senos de las hermosas niñas que pasan, no hacen lo mismo que antes.Sus rebotes rítmicos secuenciales, al compás de sus pasos y caderas, no hacen lo mismo que antes.Las hipnotizantes curvas antigravedad de sus espaldas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5497946681801552952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5497946681801552952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5497946681801552952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5497946681801552952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/creo-que-estoy-perdiendo-mi-apetito.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-2887664866235265947</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.024-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:41:57.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me temo que la Paz, no es algo que los colombianos queramos tener. Quiero decir, que los objetivos de los colombianos no están alineados.Yo sé, y estoy consciente de que lo que digo parece contradecir la marcha que se realizo en estos días en contra de las FARC. Además de que la marcha fue contra las FARC y por ende la Paz, teóricamente, pero no necesariamente.Pero me temo que cuando pregunto a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/2887664866235265947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=2887664866235265947&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2887664866235265947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2887664866235265947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/me-temo-que-la-paz-no-es-algo-que-los.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5966649083792174285</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.023-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:41:40.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Por los pasillos del hospital caminaba Pablo. No tenía nada que hacer ahí. Pero los caminaba. Mirando los números en las puertas de los cuartos. Mirando las marcas de la cerámica del suelo. Contando los saltos que daba con cada paso.Doblando a la izquierda, y derecho hasta el fondo. Otra izquierda y derecho hasta el fondo.Creyó haber visto pasar la misma persona 2 veces. Y creyó que lo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5966649083792174285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5966649083792174285&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5966649083792174285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5966649083792174285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/por-los-pasillos-del-hospital-caminaba.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-3561652062211204236</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.022-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:41:15.501-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Por cuanto me siento como me siento,por las islas flotantes de Atlántis,por la tarde en el zoológico,por que si,por lo que tenemos,por lo que hemos creado.PorquePorque las ondas de tu boca no redoblaron en mi oídoPorque tus susurros no me penetraron</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/3561652062211204236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=3561652062211204236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3561652062211204236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3561652062211204236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/por-cuanto-me-siento-como-me-siento-por.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-4909718985969796915</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.021-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:41:03.831-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tristeza,Nostalgia.Son los deseos de luz.Su vida larga y dura la llevo a este momento.Desea que el dolor continúe.Vive el esplendor del dolor.Ansía la gravedad del color.Rojos y negros, que pasan por su imaginación.“Que sufran”, exclama, mientras los ve quemarse en la hogera.“Que ardan”, afirma, cuando piden clemencia.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/4909718985969796915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=4909718985969796915&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/4909718985969796915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/4909718985969796915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/tristeza-nostalgia.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-2038456477119433348</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:40:45.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Nosotros los caminantes.Nosotros, que caminamos el mundo, estamos perdidos.Nosotros, que andamos los caminos, estamos perdidos.Nosotros, que damos vueltas sin cesar, estamos perdidos.Nosotros, que no encontramos norte, estamos perdidos.Nosotros, que clamamos por dirección, estamos perdidos.Nosotros,  aquellos que buscamos siempre, sin encontrar, estamos perdidos.Nosotros, que entre nosotros </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/2038456477119433348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=2038456477119433348&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2038456477119433348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2038456477119433348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/nosotros-los-caminantes.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1215518550751064566</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:40:30.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No conozco tus pretextos.Pero hago lo inimaginable para compartirlos.Lo hago porque,el posible sentimiento de nuestra unión, es,sublime.Lo hago porque, cuando lloras,mi alma se estremece con la tuya.Lo hago, porque,mi tumba,resuena,con tu presencia.Sé que es idiota,Sé que es estúpido.Sé que mis sentimientos no tienen fundamentos.Sé que mis pensamientos son erróneos.Pero también sé, que encuentro </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1215518550751064566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1215518550751064566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1215518550751064566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1215518550751064566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-conozco-tus-pretextos.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-8404037698922099247</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:40:12.552-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Esas nalgas suculentas,que se sacuden con los movimientos rítmicos,saltantes de felicidad,que suenan al emitir la alegría de la risa.Esas lenguas exploratorias,que circulan los valles y crestas de la sangre en su furor.Las cosquillas de las uñas,al acariciar con picardía las curvas de las nalgas,subiendo por la espalda,y presionando con fuerza los músculos gordos,que saltan de la emoción.Las </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/8404037698922099247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=8404037698922099247&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8404037698922099247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8404037698922099247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/esas-nalgas-suculentas-que-se-sacuden.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-395196457656685032</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.017-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:39:49.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>1.5to de primaria:Irene:Pelinegra.Nunca me gusto, me cuadré con ella porque parecía en ese momento lo que se debía hacer.Los papas eran separados, vivía con la mamá.2.San Andrés:Adriana, Creo que así se llamaba.Pelirroja, Siempre le tuve ganas.Pero creo que nunca fuimos novios.Sé que los papas estaban divorciados.3.3ro de Bachillerato:Mimi:Pelirroja, ojos como azules verdosos.Me llevé del putas. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/395196457656685032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=395196457656685032&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/395196457656685032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/395196457656685032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1043687593188085885</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.016-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:39:31.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tengo una hora para quemar,Así que espero que lo que me salga en estas lineas, sea “chevere”, para que me entretenga por una hora.“Chevere”.De “Che”, como en “EL Che Guevara.”Y “veré”, de mirar.Algo “chevere”, es algo con las características visuales, del Che Guevara.“ If you are, happy and you know it,Clap your hands,If you're, happy and you know it,Clap your handsIf you're, happy and you know </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1043687593188085885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1043687593188085885&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1043687593188085885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1043687593188085885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/tengo-una-hora-para-quemar-as-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-3738209309491816552</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:39:15.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Malparida,Espero te violen infinitas veces mas.Te mereces todo esto y mucho más.Bienaventurado el karma que te llegó.Que te pudras en el infinito dolor.Son estos los frutos de tu apestosa esencia.SinceramenteManuel</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/3738209309491816552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=3738209309491816552&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3738209309491816552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3738209309491816552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/malparida-espero-te-violen-infinitas.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-7723032638665865357</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:38:59.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quede de llamar a las horaspero el impulso siento perderQuede de amar a cabalespero el instinto no quiere nacerObligo a nacer el sentidoMe obligo a ver con razónEn silencio sufro pesaresse me desgasta el corazónTe llevas contigo mi instintoMe arrancas la desesperaciónSoy un hombre de almay mi amor está en traición</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/7723032638665865357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=7723032638665865357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7723032638665865357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7723032638665865357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/quede-de-llamar-las-horas-pero-el.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1801052307389967840</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:38:41.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Los caballos blancos,seis de ellos,galopaban montaña abajo.Seis hombres,de sombreros anchos, los perseguían,perdiendo el rastro con la humareda.La luz del sol,penetrando por los huecos de las nubes,y rompiendo el polvo,hacían brillar de vez en cuando un anca,que saltaba a la vista.Alrededor del polvo circundaba un halcón.Con llantos desenfrenados,guiaba los movimientos de los caballos.En el polvo</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1801052307389967840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1801052307389967840&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1801052307389967840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1801052307389967840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/los-caballos-blancos-seis-de-ellos.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-582854154356619876</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:38:20.729-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Listo, no es mas.Erase una vez que un punto que dentro de un cuadrado, estaba.Como los puntos no tienen ojos, este no podía ver nada. Y no sabia que estaba dentro de un cuadrado.Y como los puntos no tienen orejas, este no podía escuchar nada. Y no sabia de los sonidos.Tampoco tienen los puntos sentido del tacto, ni del gusto. Por lo que este no podía ni sentir ni probar nada.Pero dado que este </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/582854154356619876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=582854154356619876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/582854154356619876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/582854154356619876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/listo-no-es-mas.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1866941154318580782</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:37:59.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me tomó un año entero, encontrar la palabra apropiada. La palabra correcta. Aquella palabra que encajo perfectamente. La sutil diferencia entre lo sublime y lo perfecto. El delicado balance entre fuerza y profundidad.Pero la encontré. La encontré escondida debajo de la tapa de la caja de joyas. No estaba en el cajón de la caja. No estaba debajo de la tela que la forra. No estaba enredada en las </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1866941154318580782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1866941154318580782&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1866941154318580782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1866941154318580782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/me-tom-un-ao-entero-encontrar-la.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-7184447793018025507</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:37:40.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Is myself the same as I?I = my brain + my nervous system + my bodyI = Brain + Nervous System + BodyI = B + NS + BDMyself = I “imagining myself”Myself = (B + NS + BD) “imagining itself”  (Perspective: I looking at I from outside of I)MS = (B + NS + BD)*(Bi + NSi + BDi) Is this mathematical interpretation correct?MS = I * (Bi + NSi + BDi)Myself = I * ((Brain imagined by I) + (Nervous System </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/7184447793018025507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=7184447793018025507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7184447793018025507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7184447793018025507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-myself-same-as-i-i-my-brain-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-4057489196602636683</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:37:21.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Here is the ThingI , You , We , TheyIf I am an I, Then I can't be a You.I = I , I =/ YOr can I?I can be a You, while being an I, from the perspective of a You. (In my imagination)I + Yi = Y this is the math of an imaginary friend. I imagine me being You, putting myself in your shoes. I plus I imagining I'm you seeing myself trough you eyes equals You.And so I = Y + Ye (Where Ye is you imagining </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/4057489196602636683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=4057489196602636683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/4057489196602636683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/4057489196602636683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/here-is-thing-i-you-we-they-if-i-am-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-6657551213634287823</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:37:01.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Este es el dilema, más grave aún.Dos hombres se paran mirándose frente a frente en un cuarto vacío. Sus nombres son Juan y Pedro.Desde el punto de Vista de Juan:J = YoJP = TuPDesde el punto de vista de Pedro:P = YoPJ = TuJSi Juan = Yo y Pedro = Yo, entonces, ¿Pedro = Juan? No. YoJ es diferente a YoPDesde el Punto de Vista de Juan:Juan imagina mirarse a si mismo desde los ojos de Pedro.P = YoiJ = </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/6657551213634287823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=6657551213634287823&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6657551213634287823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6657551213634287823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/este-es-el-dilema-ms-grave.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-630390214627431670</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:36:03.412-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Se siente como estar mal del estomago. Quiero decir el amor. Así se siente.Levedad. En la cabeza. No se puede pensar claro. No hay coherencia en mis actos.Es como estar enfermo.Esto debería indicarme que no es bueno para mí. Pero ahí sigo. Como bobo. Persiguiendo una idea imposible que solo vive en mi mente.Es como ser adicto. Yo sé que me hace daño y de todas maneras lo hago.Pero el amor es una </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/630390214627431670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=630390214627431670&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/630390214627431670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/630390214627431670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/se-siente-como-estar-mal-del-estomago.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1998208057944038229</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:35:45.932-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No somos amigos, o no mejor si somos amigos. Imagino que lo somos, porque hablamos todos los días de las cosas banales.Pero no somos novios. No no somos novios, porque decidimos no serlo. Casi nos vuelve locos a los dos.Y estamos tratando de ser novios. O por lo menos eso creo que es lo que estamos tratando.Y ahora yo en mi cabeza pienso a veces, que sí es bueno, y a veces pienso que no lo es.A </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1998208057944038229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1998208057944038229&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1998208057944038229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1998208057944038229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-somos-amigos-o-no-mejor-si-somos.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1594990622371593079</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:35:14.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cuando caminas,los brazos no parecen colgar de tu cuerpolos muslos parecen flotarlos pies no tocan el suelola espalda parece bailarLa ropa sigue la ondael pelo al contrario vate sigo como el vientoen tu estela navego hacia atráste veo doblando la esquinate veo volarte busco en los arbolesoigo tu sonarte siento en la luzen la luz estas</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1594990622371593079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1594990622371593079&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1594990622371593079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1594990622371593079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/cuando-caminas-los-brazos-no-parecen.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1674285270693206561</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:34:57.082-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Propuesta de Programa de Televisión:Titulo: ¿Cómo hacer Plata?Sinopsis: (En 5 Líneas)Cómo hacer Plata; Mostrará a los televidentes, las experiencias buenas y malas de un presentador con un equipo de grabación, mientras que hace inversiones, presta dinero, monta negocios, se mete en importaciones, hace exportaciones, compra acciones, vende acciones, compra bonos, vende bonos, mete la pata en malos</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1674285270693206561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1674285270693206561&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1674285270693206561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1674285270693206561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/propuesta-de-programa-de-televisin.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-8059178771834674032</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:34:13.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bogotá, March 3 / 2008Dear United States men and women,Please.Please.Either stop snorting cocaine, or stop overpaying for it.Please.I beg of you.Honestly; the cost without including labour, of producing 1 gram of 100% pure cocaine is arround COP$1.000,oo or arround USD$0,55 (Exchange rate $1 USD = $1.803,oo COP)Selling price shouldn't under any circumstance exeed around COP$5.000,oo or around USD</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/8059178771834674032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=8059178771834674032&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8059178771834674032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8059178771834674032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/bogot-march-3-2008-dear-united-states.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-6312945731275424759</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:33:46.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Subes en las nubes,a ver mi esplendor.Bajas en las olas,de mi oscuro interior.Entras por la puerta,mi mansión te da hogar.Sales a carcajadas,mi pocilga no es lugar.Te concedo acceso a mi mente,atraída en trance a internar.Escupes tu desprecio,a mi ser debes cachetear.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/6312945731275424759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=6312945731275424759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6312945731275424759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6312945731275424759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/subes-en-las-nubes-ver-mi-esplendor.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-6436480181760570367</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:33:05.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lloró todo mi cuerpo,lloró todo mi ser.llóro por los hombres,que te van a conocer.Arpía eres,te hastías,te comes mis placeres,devoras a tus crías.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/6436480181760570367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=6436480181760570367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6436480181760570367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6436480181760570367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/llor-todo-mi-cuerpo-llor-todo-mi-ser.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-7962986325434312918</id><published>2008-03-05T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T14:32:42.954-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Los pobres son pobres porque no saben álgebra.Si supieran álgebra, dejarían de ser pobres.Que se necesita para no ser pobre?El que tenga un ingreso mensual de $1'000,000.oo, en el año 2007 en Colombia, no es pobre.¿Cuanto dinero debo tener rentando, para generar un ingreso de $1'000,000.oo, en el año 2007 en Colombia, si la tasa DTF es del 8.6% E.A.?El que pueda contestar esta pregunta, sabe </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/7962986325434312918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=7962986325434312918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7962986325434312918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7962986325434312918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2008/03/los-pobres-son-pobres-porque-no-saben.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-3816935880249474505</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:14:33.325-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>La sombra del volado del techo, se extendía a trotadas por el camino del jardín, hasta el gran portón metálico rústico de la entrada. Yo miraba al jardín por la ventana del cuarto de Susan, que con las persianas abiertas, derramaba sobre el tallo de un gran manzano, la tenue luz de la lampara de noche.Mire el reloj. Eran las 5:51 p.m.Me di vuelta y mire nuevamente los muslos desnudos de Susan </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/3816935880249474505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=3816935880249474505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3816935880249474505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/3816935880249474505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/la-sombra-del-volado-del-techo-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1602247535668994935</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:13:33.525-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Si,Yo soy sereno, Yo = Sereno, Y = SYYo soy calmado, Yo = Calmado, Y = CEntonces,Sereno es Igual a Calmado, Sereno =  Calmado, S = C¿Correcto?Sí.¿Se podría decir que Yo soy Sereno más Calmado?Y = S + CSí.Pero entonces:Si,Yo soy feliz, Yo = Feliz, Y = FYYo soy triste, Yo = Triste, Y = TEntonces,Feliz es igual a Triste, Feliz = Triste, F = T¿Correcto?No.Esto no es correcto: Y = F + T¿Donde esta la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1602247535668994935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1602247535668994935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1602247535668994935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1602247535668994935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/si-yo-soy-sereno-yo-sereno-y-s-y-yo-soy.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5283196757832360207</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:11:50.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quisiera darte las gracias.Creo que fue, cuando por primera vez te vi:Me hice una idea de una posible y magnificaconexión mágica,tangible.Existente entre nuestros sentimientos.Una idea.No mas.Nada mas.Te vi en mis brazos, girando juntos a un trillón de millas por hora.Escuche tu voz susurrar con dulzura,la felicidad.Vi tu pelo, largo, negro,brillar con la luz del sol.Lo sentí suave en mis dedos.Y</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5283196757832360207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5283196757832360207&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5283196757832360207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5283196757832360207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/quisiera-darte-las-gracias.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5451868240216981610</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:10:21.998-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Los llantos de tus labios,al contacto con mi piel,hicieron surcos en mi serla linea de tu caminaral cargar con mi enfermedadproducían a la vista, piedadvibraba placerde pelos negrosal ritmo de sus senosme diluí en tu olorperdido en estupor</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5451868240216981610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5451868240216981610&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5451868240216981610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5451868240216981610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/los-llantos-de-tus-labios-al-contacto.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-5562013546216306400</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:09:50.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Creo que estoy perdiendo mi apetito sexual, característico de mi adolescencia. Lo extraño de perder mi apetito, no es que lo esté perdiendo, es que tengo 32 años.Los suculentos senos de las hermosas niñas que pasan, no hacen lo mismo que antes.Sus rebotes rítmicos secuenciales, al compás de sus pasos y caderas, no hacen lo mismo que antes.Las hipnotizantes curvas antigravedad de sus espaldas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/5562013546216306400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=5562013546216306400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5562013546216306400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/5562013546216306400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/creo-que-estoy-perdiendo-mi-apetito.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-2380443047759319293</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:09:09.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Por cuanto me siento como me siento,por las islas flotantes de Atlántis,por la tarde en el zoológico,por que si,por lo que tenemos,por lo que hemos creado.PorquePorque las ondas de tu boca no redoblaron en mi oídoPorque tus susurros no me penetraron</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/2380443047759319293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=2380443047759319293&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2380443047759319293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/2380443047759319293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/por-cuanto-me-siento-como-me-siento-por.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-7084143240276161567</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:08:26.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No conozco tus pretextos.Pero hago lo inimaginable para compartirlos.Lo hago porque,el posible sentimiento de nuestra unión, es,sublime.Lo hago porque, cuando lloras,mi alma se estremece con la tuya.Lo hago, porque,mi tumba,resuena,con tu presencia.Sé que es idiota,Sé que es estúpido.Sé que mis sentimientos no tienen fundamentos.Sé que mis pensamientos son erróneos.Pero también sé, que encuentro </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/7084143240276161567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=7084143240276161567&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7084143240276161567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/7084143240276161567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/no-conozco-tus-pretextos.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-8662636051456727553</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:07:26.514-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Esas nalgas suculentas, que se sacuden con los movimientos rítmicos, saltantes de felicidad, que suenan al emitir la alegría de la risa.Esas lenguas exploratorias, que circulan los valles y crestas de la sangre en su furor.Las cosquillas de las uñas, al acariciar con picardía las curvas de las nalgas, subiendo por la espalda, y presionando con fuerza los músculos gordos, que saltan de la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/8662636051456727553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=8662636051456727553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8662636051456727553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8662636051456727553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/esas-nalgas-suculentas-que-se-sacuden.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-6530906159727943745</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:05:45.181-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Malparida,Espero te violen infinitas veces mas.Te mereces todo esto y mucho más.Bienaventurado el karma que te llegó.Que te pudras en el infinito dolor.Son estos los frutos de tu apestosa esencia.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/6530906159727943745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=6530906159727943745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6530906159727943745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/6530906159727943745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/malparida-espero-te-violen-infinitas.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-8966762077247093744</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:05:01.563-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quede de llamar a las horaspero el impulso siento perderQuede de amar a cabalespero el instinto no quiere nacerObligo a nacer el sentidoMe obligo a ver con razónEn silencio sufro pesaresse me desgasta el corazónTe llevas contigo mi instintoMe arrancas la desesperaciónSoy un hombre de almay mi amor está en traición</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/8966762077247093744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=8966762077247093744&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8966762077247093744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/8966762077247093744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/quede-de-llamar-las-horas-pero-el.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-9192118298195325336</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:03:41.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Listo, no es mas.Erase una vez que un punto que dentro de un cuadrado, estaba.Como los puntos no tienen ojos, este no podía ver nada. Y no sabia que estaba dentro de un cuadrado.Y como los puntos no tienen orejas, este no podía escuchar nada. Y no sabia de los sonidos.Tampoco tienen los puntos sentido del tacto, ni del gusto. Por lo que este no podía ni sentir ni probar nada.Pero dado que este </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/9192118298195325336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=9192118298195325336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/9192118298195325336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/9192118298195325336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/listo-no-es-mas.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-1752305718907643242</id><published>2007-11-21T19:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:02:55.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Is myself the same as I?I = my brain + my nervous system + my bodyI = Brain + Nervous System + BodyI = B + NS + BDMyself = I “imagining myself”Myself = (B + NS + BD) “imagining itself”  (Perspective: I looking at I from outside of I)MS = (B + NS + BD)*(Bi + NSi + BDi) Is this mathematical interpretation correct?MS = I * (Bi + NSi + BDi)Myself = I * ((Brain imagined by I) + (Nervous System </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/1752305718907643242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=1752305718907643242&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1752305718907643242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/1752305718907643242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2007/11/is-myself-same-as-i-i-my-brain-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112587926482667030</id><published>2005-09-04T19:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T19:23:00.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I like this. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112587926482667030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112587926482667030&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112587926482667030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112587926482667030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/09/i-like-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112319575857607145</id><published>2005-08-04T17:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T17:49:18.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Por qué</title><summary type='text'>¿Por qué?¿Por qué me sigo imaginando besando su espalda, color piel dorada por el sol?¿Por qué percibo su perfume, y sus reacciones a las puntas de mis dedos deslizando por su espalda?¿Por qué sigo imaginando su cuerpo desnudo, arrodillado sobre una alfombra muy grande, al frente de una chimenea, de noche?¿Por qué veo los reflejos de las llamas bailando en las paredes?¿Por qué continuo imaginando</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112319575857607145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112319575857607145&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319575857607145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319575857607145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/08/por-qu.html' title='Por qué'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112319571006284724</id><published>2005-08-04T17:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T17:48:30.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Subo escaleras</title><summary type='text'>Me imagino subiendo por las escaleras de la casa, pero no me imagino llegando al final. Siento mi mano coger la baranda de madera. Siento mi pierna derecha sobre el primer escalón. Y siento mi pierna izquierda volar hasta el segundo impulsada por mi cuerpo.Y subo las escaleras, paso a paso, voy hacia arriba. Siento que con cada escalón el techo se desvanece y mi cabeza no se estrella sino con el </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112319571006284724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112319571006284724&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319571006284724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319571006284724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/08/subo-escaleras.html' title='Subo escaleras'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112319566023071161</id><published>2005-08-04T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T17:47:40.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se intercambiaron unas con otras. Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se cambiaron los nombres.</title><summary type='text'>Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se intercambiaron unas con otras. Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se cambiaron los nombres.Así que los elefantes se llamaron por un periodo de tiempo rinocerontes, y los mastodontes, para no sentirse tan mal se pusieron hormigas.Los vasos se llamaron platos y las Carolinas se llamaron sillas.A las sillas no se les podía decir Carolinas así que les</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112319566023071161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112319566023071161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319566023071161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319566023071161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/08/haba-una-vez-en-que-las-cosas-del.html' title='Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se intercambiaron unas con otras. Había una vez en que las cosas del mundo se cambiaron los nombres.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112319560078454557</id><published>2005-08-04T17:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T17:46:40.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>¿A quien le tiembla la nalga?</title><summary type='text'>¿A quien le tiembla la nalga?Pregunte: ¿a quien le tiembla la nalga?¿A quien involuntariamente le tiembla la nalga?¿A quien se le tiempla y le dan espasmos musculares en la nalga?A mí.Echado en mi casa, viendo tv, de pronto siento un temblor espasmódico rítmico, que me invade la nalga. Usualmente echado de medio lado, la nalga que quede mas lejos del colchón me tiembla.¿Y que hizo?Me la acaricie </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112319560078454557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112319560078454557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319560078454557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112319560078454557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/08/quien-le-tiembla-la-nalga.html' title='¿A quien le tiembla la nalga?'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112231956475869612</id><published>2005-07-25T14:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T14:26:04.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A comer helado.</title><summary type='text'>Eh ave María, que niña tan linda que tenemos aquí. Le voy a invitar a comer helado con melocotón. Y con crema de fresas.Le voy a invitar a acompañar el helado con galletas.Le voy a invitar a sentarse cerca de la ventana, para que el sol la caliente mientras se refresca con el helado.Voy a decirle lo linda que esta, mientras muerde la galleta, para que se ría en el mordisco y deje caer un </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112231956475869612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112231956475869612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231956475869612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231956475869612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/comer-helado.html' title='A comer helado.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112231952564894831</id><published>2005-07-25T14:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T14:25:25.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A pasar bueno dijo el Señor,</title><summary type='text'>Y comando los trillones de sus legiones a la mejor rumba de todos los tiempos.Toda la música de toda la eternidad se pudo poner, pues Dios no tiene que pagar Copyright.Y todas las drogas y semidrogas y alteradores de animo se pudieron consumir sin riesgos, porque Dios .......Se declaro a todo el universo como rumbiadero. No habían límites en la localización de la rumba.Se declaro que la rumba no </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112231952564894831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112231952564894831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231952564894831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231952564894831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/pasar-bueno-dijo-el-seor.html' title='A pasar bueno dijo el Señor,'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112231947161797050</id><published>2005-07-25T14:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T14:24:31.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sueño de Andrea</title><summary type='text'>En una mañana de verano, me levante de la cama sudoroso, en otro transe sexual.Otra vez soñé que hacía el amor con Andrea. Esta vez en el lavadero de la casa. Y otra vez tenia los senos morados neón y la cara con pintura anaranjada.Mis sabanas de tribilín estaban enrolladas en una pierna, y me medio había quitado la camisa durmiendo.Como en esta finca, duermo en un cuarto solo, el calambre </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112231947161797050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112231947161797050&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231947161797050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231947161797050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/sueo-de-andrea.html' title='Sueño de Andrea'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112231943401066426</id><published>2005-07-25T14:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T14:23:54.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jugarreta de Media Noche.</title><summary type='text'>En una estrellita de mar, subí a la luna llena.En una estrellita de mar, parpadee y me caíEn una estrellita de mar, los sueños se me cumplieron.En una estrellita de mar, las luces hurgaban mis sentidos.En una estrellita de mar, el viento detenía mi caída.En una estrellita de mar, vi a Dios.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112231943401066426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112231943401066426&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231943401066426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112231943401066426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/jugarreta-de-media-noche_25.html' title='Jugarreta de Media Noche.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112163123482784129</id><published>2005-07-17T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-17T15:13:54.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why cant people be this happy?? </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112163123482784129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112163123482784129&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112163123482784129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112163123482784129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/why-cant-people-be-this-happy.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112145426306763713</id><published>2005-07-15T14:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T14:04:23.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No puedo.</title><summary type='text'>Mama:No puedo con ella,Se me acerca,Me respira cerca,Me mira,Siento escalofríos.M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112145426306763713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112145426306763713&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145426306763713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145426306763713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/no-puedo.html' title='No puedo.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112145398069372185</id><published>2005-07-15T13:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T13:59:40.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>¿Cómo llegue a estar empeloto en la copa de este árbol?</title><summary type='text'>Por aquella mañana de verano, que caminaba por el bosque desnudo. Yo, no el bosque, me encontré a una  mujer con las ropas blancas de las esposas de los caballeros de los cuentos del rey Arturo.Y porque estaba desnudo en el bosque de las cerezas, la doncella se apiado de mi presencia. Y se quito su vestimenta para ofrecerla.El pudor venció mi inteligencia y puse los vestidos largos, alrededor de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112145398069372185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112145398069372185&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145398069372185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145398069372185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/cmo-llegue-estar-empeloto-en-la-copa.html' title='¿Cómo llegue a estar empeloto en la copa de este árbol?'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112145390512860901</id><published>2005-07-15T13:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T13:58:25.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maria Tetitriste.</title><summary type='text'>María Tetitriste era una mujer decidida. Sabía lo que quería; lo cogía con las dos manos con fuerza y no lo dejaba ir sino hasta que le sacaba todo el jugo.Se vestía con camisitas delgadas  de algodón, que sobre el ombligo iban y venían a su propio ritmo. Y con jeans apretados en las nalgas, pues siempre le quedaban muy anchos de cadera, y para que no se le cayeran, compraba una talla </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112145390512860901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112145390512860901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145390512860901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145390512860901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/maria-tetitriste.html' title='Maria Tetitriste.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-112145386031825577</id><published>2005-07-15T13:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T13:57:40.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cuerda en las escaleras</title><summary type='text'>Subiendo las escaleras de la casa, me encontré una cuerda colgada del techo. Me impedía cruzar las escaleras sin tocarla.Y bajo ninguna circunstancia, podía yo tocar una cuerda que no me pertenecía.Y no pude subir las escaleras.Me quede durmiendo abajo.Al otro día no pude subir a bañarme, y me quede sin bañarme.Al tercer día la cuerda todavía colgaba del techo sobre las escaleras, y tampoco pude </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/112145386031825577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=112145386031825577&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145386031825577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/112145386031825577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/07/cuerda-en-las-escaleras.html' title='Cuerda en las escaleras'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999984852380658</id><published>2005-06-28T18:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T18:04:08.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Complete acceptance of reality.</title><summary type='text'>It’s pretty hard.But in honor of the wonderful tradition left by John Lennon I state: It’s easy if you try.And interestingly enough; it is the source of love in me.This is how I fall in love:Complete acceptance of reality.I accept completely the person in front of me. With all their flaws, and shortcomings. With all their light and darkness, with all their range of expression and feelings, or </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999984852380658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999984852380658&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999984852380658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999984852380658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/complete-acceptance-of-reality.html' title='Complete acceptance of reality.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999963400574096</id><published>2005-06-28T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T18:00:34.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Rhythm is the frequency aligning of two separate entities.I have nothing more to say.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999963400574096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999963400574096&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999963400574096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999963400574096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/rhythm-is-frequency-aligning-of-two.html' title=''/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999960609729803</id><published>2005-06-28T17:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T18:00:06.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another dark day in paradise.</title><summary type='text'>Paradise seems to be growing darker and darker by the hour now days.It rains in the afternoon on paradise, don’t come here. It’s cold at night in paradise, don’t come here. People are weird in paradise, don’t come here.I’m not sure why I’m here myself. I don’t remember having chosen to be here. But then again, a clue was given to me some time ago, indicating that the choice to be here was made by</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999960609729803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999960609729803&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999960609729803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999960609729803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/another-dark-day-in-paradise.html' title='Another dark day in paradise.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999957101893684</id><published>2005-06-28T17:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:59:31.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>El rabo al bailar.</title><summary type='text'>Tenia una faldita de colores como el arco iris,Que meneaba al son.Se movía con retardo al vaivén de sus caderas,y se le veía por debajo.Cha cha cha, decía la músicaY cha cha cha se movía la nalgaPrimero para los lados,Y luego adelante y atrásEn círculos a la derechaY en círculos a la izquierdaLa nalga me hablaba en francés,Sin palabras en mi cabeza,Me invitaba a vibrar a su ritmoNunca le vi la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999957101893684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999957101893684&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999957101893684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999957101893684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/el-rabo-al-bailar.html' title='El rabo al bailar.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999954071633234</id><published>2005-06-28T17:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:59:00.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of how I became the father of the goddess of light.</title><summary type='text'>Welcome said the figure resting by the wall. The all seeing being will be with you shortly. And proceeded to leave the room hugging the walls walking always in shadow.We waited for more than one hour. Martha wanted to flee the scene the minute we were left alone in that room. But Eric calmed her down with a stiff shot of vodka he carried with him in a shinny flask tucked under his belt.Miriam and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999954071633234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999954071633234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999954071633234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999954071633234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/of-how-i-became-father-of-goddess-of.html' title='Of how I became the father of the goddess of light.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999945176954317</id><published>2005-06-28T17:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:57:31.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Duchas Gratis</title><summary type='text'>Anita de Morales, esta en el momento involucrada en su imaginación con los ojos encajados en el infinito.Esta sintiendo el asiento soportar su cuerpo, pero el sentimiento no está presente en su visión, solo es un marco a su experiencia.Si la miraras, dirías que mira por la ventana, pero ella no ve nada mas aya de sus narices.Anita esta arreglando el mundo.  Para ella en el mundo hay muchos </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999945176954317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999945176954317&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999945176954317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999945176954317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/duchas-gratis.html' title='Duchas Gratis'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999941236794286</id><published>2005-06-28T17:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:56:52.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love in the center of the square</title><summary type='text'>By the northeastern corner of the square, appeared a young man. By the southwestern corner of the square appeared a young woman.But they’re not the ones that create love in the square.No, the main characters are two pigeons, really ugly ones. They lived on the tree on the northwestern corner of the square, and saw the man and the young woman come into the picture, since they had a full view of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999941236794286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999941236794286&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999941236794286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999941236794286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/love-in-center-of-square.html' title='Love in the center of the square'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999938123841221</id><published>2005-06-28T17:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:56:21.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Programa de TV. “En vivo y en directo desde mi cabeza: Perdidos en el espacio”</title><summary type='text'>El planeta empezó en no sé dónde. Y esta en no sé dónde.  Osea que estamos dando vueltas perdidos en el espacio. Alrededor del Sol que da vueltas alrededor del centro de la galaxia, que da vueltas alrededor creo que de algo más.No sabemos dónde empezamos y no sabemos para adonde vamos.Y en el espacio no hay señales de trafico ni nombres de regiones.Tampoco le podemos preguntar al de la bomba de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999938123841221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999938123841221&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999938123841221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999938123841221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/programa-de-tv-en-vivo-y-en-directo.html' title='Programa de TV. “En vivo y en directo desde mi cabeza: Perdidos en el espacio”'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999934644451600</id><published>2005-06-28T17:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:55:46.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>El colectivo</title><summary type='text'>En estos días he estado leyendo un libro que afirma:En la frase; Pienso luego existo, no existe la palabra “yo”.“Cogito ergo sum”, fue lo que se dijo. Y efectivamente no existe la palabra “yo”.Y de por sí, se afirma ahora que a lo que se le llama “yo”, no existe. Es un mito inventado.En otras palabras, a lo que se le puede llamar “yo” es a la maquina biológica que contiene la personalidad. Pero </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999934644451600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999934644451600&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999934644451600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999934644451600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/el-colectivo.html' title='El colectivo'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999931951963122</id><published>2005-06-28T17:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:55:19.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Por decirlo así,</title><summary type='text'>Por decirlo así, la vida puede ser más fácil si se lo plantea de frente a la mujer: Quiero que te consigas dos amigas, pongamos un jacuzzi en la sala, y nos metamos todos desnudos a ver qué pasa.Para eso se inventaron los revólveres, para  poder expresar libremente tu opinión desde una distancia segura y a la vez poder defenderte cuando tu mujer te mande la mano.El problema real sería que tu </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999931951963122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999931951963122&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999931951963122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999931951963122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/por-decirlo-as.html' title='Por decirlo así,'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999928702875513</id><published>2005-06-28T17:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:54:47.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>¿Qué ves?</title><summary type='text'>Es un espiralMetálico.Flota en el aire.El fondo es morado.Refleja una fuente de luz.Emite un chillido casi inaudible.¿A mí que me pasa?M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999928702875513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999928702875513&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999928702875513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999928702875513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/qu-ves.html' title='¿Qué ves?'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999925298701376</id><published>2005-06-28T17:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:54:12.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Un tinto.</title><summary type='text'>Un tinto.OtroOtroOtroSi no llega me voy a enberracarOtroOtroMe morí.M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999925298701376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999925298701376&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999925298701376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999925298701376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/un-tinto.html' title='Un tinto.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999922438901858</id><published>2005-06-28T17:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:53:44.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Nose Cab Day</title><summary type='text'>Some dark hair beauty looked at me trough the windshield of her cab, bouncing of my rear view mirror, and winked.Then wet her lips. Picked her nose, and smiled.I knew it was going to be a great day.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999922438901858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999922438901858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999922438901858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999922438901858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/great-nose-cab-day.html' title='Great Nose Cab Day'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999919045309218</id><published>2005-06-28T17:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:53:10.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Red Balls.</title><summary type='text'>Coming at me from all directions.Punching my face.Never give upside down hanging head blowjobs.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999919045309218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999919045309218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999919045309218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999919045309218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/red-balls.html' title='Red Balls.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999915807740630</id><published>2005-06-28T17:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:52:38.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aprendiendo a vivir</title><summary type='text'>El libro llegó a la casa un martes. Y tres semanas después, la mujer de Giraldo salió de la casa por la mañana muy temprano. Tenia en sus manos el cuchillo con que lo había degollado.Salió por la puerta de atrás y camino lentamente, derramando gotas de sangre sobre el prado, hasta el corral de los cerdos. Puso el cuchillo sobre la barda, y dejo que los marranos lamieran la sangre.23 días después </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999915807740630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999915807740630&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999915807740630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999915807740630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/aprendiendo-vivir.html' title='Aprendiendo a vivir'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111999910593664370</id><published>2005-06-28T17:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T17:51:45.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><summary type='text'>“Love” is “evol” backwards (As in evolution or evolve.)“Evil” is “live” backwards (As in not doing in right.)“Devil” is “lived” backwards (As in not any more.)What does that tell you?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111999910593664370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111999910593664370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999910593664370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111999910593664370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/06/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111646772781152991</id><published>2005-05-18T20:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T20:55:27.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alicia y su caminar.</title><summary type='text'> Alicia caminaba desnuda por el jardín frontal de su casa  de campo. El sol pegaba en sus senos con la fuerza del latido de su  corazón. A sus 35 años, nunca se había desnudado al mundo como lo  hizo anoche, y era de esperar que esta mañana de junio, se hubiera lanzado al  fuego del sol en un homenaje a su experiencia.  &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns =  "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111646772781152991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111646772781152991&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646772781152991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646772781152991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/alicia-y-su-caminar.html' title='Alicia y su caminar.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111646761979836490</id><published>2005-05-18T20:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T20:53:39.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine a table sitting in a room.</title><summary type='text'> Imagine that on  the table there are two separate glasses filled with water. &lt;?xml:namespace  prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office"  /&gt; Why do we say that  water in one glass is the same thing as water in another glass, and yet they are  separate? Can the same thing  be separate from itself ? How can they be  the same and yet different ? How can water be  two different things</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111646761979836490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111646761979836490&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646761979836490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646761979836490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/imagine-table-sitting-in-room.html' title='Imagine a table sitting in a room.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111646741054073200</id><published>2005-05-18T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T20:50:10.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Entonces para cuando quedamos ?</title><summary type='text'> Dios - Para mañana. Jesús - ¿Seguro ? Dios - Sí. Jesús - ¿Y esta todo planeado ? Dios - Sí Jesús - ¿Las herramientas ? Dios - Si Jesús - ¿El Cuarto ? Dios - Si Jesús - ¿Así que mañana muero ? Dios - Si Jesús - Me parece bien. Ahora solo falta esta  noche. Dios - Si. Jesús - ¿Mañana nos vemos ? Dios - Si Jesús - ¿A que hora ? Dios - A las 3 :33 p.m. Jesús - Gracias  &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111646741054073200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111646741054073200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646741054073200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111646741054073200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/entonces-para-cuando-quedamos.html' title='Entonces para cuando quedamos ?'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111628404214946800</id><published>2005-05-16T17:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T17:54:02.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>El alma negra deambula por estas calles.</title><summary type='text'>Solo el loco de la esquina la puede ver. El me cuenta que la ve flotar por las calles mirando a través de las paredes adentro de las casas, leyendo las mentes de sus habitantes, encontrando las resonancias de sus pensamientos y motivando a que continúen sus comportamientos irracionales.El loco se tapa los oídos cuando la ve venir, con el viento, por las mañanas frías. El loco dice que no es el </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111628404214946800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111628404214946800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628404214946800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628404214946800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/el-alma-negra-deambula-por-estas.html' title='El alma negra deambula por estas calles.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111628399452960976</id><published>2005-05-16T17:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T17:53:14.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hacer el “mal”</title><summary type='text'>No es nada fácil, no es un hobby, no es cosa de una tarde, por casualidad pasarse por el frente del camino cósmico de otro ser humano y hacerle “mal”.Si lo miras desde la perspectiva de hacer el “mal” solo por hacer el “mal”, nunca serás bueno en ello.Hacer el “mal” necesita de una personalidad con características especiales. Tiene que ser un alma que lleve años con la tortura que ella misma se </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111628399452960976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111628399452960976&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628399452960976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628399452960976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/hacer-el-mal.html' title='Hacer el “mal”'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111628386350794963</id><published>2005-05-16T17:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T17:51:03.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soy Batman</title><summary type='text'>Subía las escaleras con desdicha de saber que el universo en el que creció se había esfumado, como el agua se evapora, pero le había tomado muchos años para evaporarse.La desdicha venía de saber que el universo se había esfumado, y que el no se había dado cuenta. Lo había perdido. Y se había perdido el espectáculo.No era el hecho que se hubiera esfumado el universo suyo lo que lo tenia con </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111628386350794963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111628386350794963&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628386350794963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628386350794963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/soy-batman.html' title='Soy Batman'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111628370292661346</id><published>2005-05-16T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T17:48:22.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Una noche de luna clara.</title><summary type='text'>En una noche de luna clara no se puede salir a la calle. Porque lo lindo de la noche es poder salir sin que nadie sepa que ahí estas.En las noches de luna clara, sí se ven las caras de los maleantes. Y sí se verán las ropas que traes.No es la noche apropiada para salir de incógnito.Es una buena noche para un picnic sí, en un parque con una botella con sangre acompañado por la vampiresa del barrio</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111628370292661346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111628370292661346&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628370292661346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111628370292661346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/una-noche-de-luna-clara.html' title='Una noche de luna clara.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111599541074446193</id><published>2005-05-13T09:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T09:43:30.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Heaven</title><summary type='text'>Tu sabes en el momento en que se esta acabando el orgasmo, que se siente que las musas del cielo están acariciando tu piel con sus cabellos de seda ?Si sabes de lo que estoy hablando ? Es como un cambio repentino de temperatura que primero pasa por un área de tu piel y rápidamente se mueve al área inmediatamente a su lado, sin dirección precisa.Eso que hace que tu cuerpo no pueda percibir nada </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111599541074446193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111599541074446193&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599541074446193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599541074446193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/little-heaven.html' title='Little Heaven'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111599537677358943</id><published>2005-05-13T09:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T09:42:56.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Saint Peter is the ultimate bouncer.</title><summary type='text'>He even has a list and everything. “You are not on the list”, are the last words you’ll want to hear from Saint Peter.Imagine it just for a minute. The man who raised little Jesus, has the list of guests in one hand, and the keys to the gate on the other. And like a common bouncer, says to you : “this is an invitation only affair.” “And you’re not on the list”It seems like a menial job for the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111599537677358943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111599537677358943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599537677358943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599537677358943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/saint-peter-is-ultimate-bouncer.html' title='Saint Peter is the ultimate bouncer.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111599534047307239</id><published>2005-05-13T09:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T09:42:20.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intelligent.</title><summary type='text'>The word “Intelligent”,is a label,used by stupid people.M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111599534047307239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111599534047307239&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599534047307239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599534047307239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/intelligent.html' title='Intelligent.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111599529990730509</id><published>2005-05-13T09:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T09:41:39.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled.</title><summary type='text'>Te pido que me ames,que me entiendas,que me aceptes.Te pido que seas Dios para mí.Te daré amor incondicional inclusive cuando hayan condiciones.Te entenderé aun cuando no te entienda.Te aceptaré aún cuando no te acepte.Compartiré contigo todo lo que tengo incluso cuando no lo tenga.Así es mi amor.La vida no es perfecta,los días no serán perfectos,habrán problemas,habrán imperfecciones,Pero,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111599529990730509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111599529990730509&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599529990730509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599529990730509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/untitled.html' title='Untitled.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111599522691722423</id><published>2005-05-13T09:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T09:40:26.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Musica.</title><summary type='text'>Tu tu tu to totic tic tac tactut tut tu tuuuuuuti tit ti tii¿si ve ? que es que yo no puedo componer música carajo !M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111599522691722423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111599522691722423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599522691722423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111599522691722423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/musica.html' title='Musica.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111507279661577095</id><published>2005-05-02T17:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T17:26:36.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Propuesta Negada - Control Inflacionario (Simultaneous Translation : Denied Proposal - Inflation Control)</title><summary type='text'>Control Inflacionario en Colombia : Carta a los comerciantes colombianos. (Inflationary control in Colombia : Letter to Colombian business people)Señor. Sr.Gerente / Representante Legal / Director / Etc., (Manager / Legal Representative / Director / Etc.,)Apreciado Señor(a) (Dear Sr. or Madam)Para el mayor control inflacionario en Colombia, la siguiente es la propuesta “Palabra de Caballeros” </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111507279661577095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111507279661577095&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111507279661577095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111507279661577095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/propuesta-negada-control-inflacionario.html' title='Propuesta Negada - Control Inflacionario (Simultaneous Translation : Denied Proposal - Inflation Control)'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111507254766339556</id><published>2005-05-02T17:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-02T17:22:27.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>¿Como le quedo el ojo ?</title><summary type='text'>Bueno, ¿Y que vamos a hacer, cuando no tengamos suficiente plata para comprar lo que necesitamos ? (Aceptando la posibilidad que ocurra.)Por ejemplo. Digamos que para seguir viviendo, necesitamos algún medicamento y que no tenemos el dinero para comprarlo.Pues en ese momento la pregunta es ¿A quien hay que matar ? (Asumiendo que se quiere seguir viviendo.)¿Pides el dinero prestado ?, ¿Te </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111507254766339556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111507254766339556&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111507254766339556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111507254766339556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/05/como-le-quedo-el-ojo.html' title='¿Como le quedo el ojo ?'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111446941239297443</id><published>2005-04-25T17:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T17:50:12.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Amor al Asterisco.</title><summary type='text'>Me rasca el cúlo,Me rasca la nies.Me siento a la derecha,Me siento al revés.Me voy a echar un peo,Ya me lo eché.Va a oler feo,Y me lo goze.A mi me huelen rico,mis peos al revés.Pero a nadie mas le huelen rico,mis peos a la vez.Es bueno pa estar soloecharse peos al revés,Es bueno pa sacar corriendo,a las mujeres cuando es.M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111446941239297443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111446941239297443&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446941239297443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446941239297443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/amor-al-asterisco.html' title='Amor al Asterisco.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111446933763693848</id><published>2005-04-25T17:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T17:48:57.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cosas Importantes</title><summary type='text'>Ninguna. A la hora de la verdad ninguna cosa es importante.Mantenerse vivo es importante. Pero solo para mí.En la escala mayor, nada es importante. Nada.¿Deprimente cierto ?Es por eso que Dios no hace nada.Desde su punto de vista nunca hay problemas.Un día de estos le chantaré un problema al todopoderoso.M.V.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111446933763693848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111446933763693848&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446933763693848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446933763693848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/cosas-importantes.html' title='Cosas Importantes'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111446928110284706</id><published>2005-04-25T17:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T17:48:01.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Her soul is still in the room</title><summary type='text'>Julia's throat was slit open and the blood ran down her dress to her hips, down her thighs to the floor.When you looked at her you would feel first sexual attraction. And then, realizing she was dead, the shivers ran down your spine making you reexamine your stands on the affair.I was very cold. You could see your breath leaving your mouth. That's why everyone kept saying her soul was still in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111446928110284706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111446928110284706&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446928110284706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111446928110284706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/her-soul-is-still-in-room.html' title='Her soul is still in the room'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111387366151002798</id><published>2005-04-18T20:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T20:21:01.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>El morir del Maestro</title><summary type='text'>Ya eran las diez de la noche cuando paso. El caballo negro galopo en frente de nuestra casa con su jinete apenas visible. Se escucharon los galopes desde que volteó en nuestra cuadra. Y cada galope era mas y mas fuerte. Cuando paso por la casa, se escuchaban asta los sonidos de las argollas metálicas pegar contra el cuero de la silla.Yo estaba en el techo. Mirando en la oscuridad. Esperando, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111387366151002798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111387366151002798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111387366151002798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111387366151002798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/el-morir-del-maestro.html' title='El morir del Maestro'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111387358430295654</id><published>2005-04-18T20:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T20:19:44.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>En Días así...</title><summary type='text'>Cuando el sol lo tapan las nubes, yo veo mejor los alrededores, ahí en el árbol, un pájaro se cubre con su plumas. Arrullado por el sonido del viento, piensa en los gusanos que no ha comido hoy. Esta mañana estaba lloviendo, y me puse el abrigo del abuelo sobre el vestido para salir a la calle. Cuando arribé a trabajar, el mundo estaba callado. No se escuchaba un solo sonido.Por ahí a eso de las </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111387358430295654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111387358430295654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111387358430295654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111387358430295654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/en-das-as.html' title='En Días así...'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111351898743035012</id><published>2005-04-14T17:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T17:51:03.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Critica a Habia una vez una Iguana.</title><summary type='text'>Había una vez una iguana.Que me tiene loco de la cabeza,Cuando ha visto usted una iguana con ruana ?y con melena para peinarse ?la sola idea es inclusive algo repugnante, pues la melena de rockero debe ser mas bien rasta suponiendo obviamente que la iguana nunca ha usado shampo.Entiendo que sí efectivamente viva al lado del río Magdalena. Pues el clima cálido es necesario para las iguanas. Pero </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111351898743035012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111351898743035012&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351898743035012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351898743035012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/critica-habia-una-vez-una-iguana.html' title='Critica a Habia una vez una Iguana.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111351892857017818</id><published>2005-04-14T17:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T17:48:48.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lloran los Guaduales.</title><summary type='text'>Subió como loco las escaleras de la casa en la que se encontraba, solo para ver a su abuelita en enaguas.-Nunca más volveré a hacerle caso a mi hermana cuando me diga que la mujer de mis sueños se encuentra arriba, preciso en la mitad de la pelea acerca de Quien se encargará del control remoto de la televisión.Volvió y bajo las escaleras para encontrar a su madre, parada en las escaleras, con la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111351892857017818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111351892857017818&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351892857017818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351892857017818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/lloran-los-guaduales.html' title='Lloran los Guaduales.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111351888292746628</id><published>2005-04-14T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T17:48:02.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inhabilidad Cerebral.</title><summary type='text'>Afuera, mientras me fumaba un cigarrillo, me acerque a un pequeño charco que se había creado frente a la puerta de la oficina después de uno de los aguaceros de diciembre que no debía haber ocurrido.Ya había dejado de llover. Y estaba yo impaciente por alguna inhabilidad de mi cerebro. Así que salí a fumarme un cigarrillo.Cuando me agache a echarle un mejor vistazo al charco, no sé si fue la </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111351888292746628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111351888292746628&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351888292746628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351888292746628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/inhabilidad-cerebral.html' title='Inhabilidad Cerebral.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12182093.post-111351882742280078</id><published>2005-04-14T17:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T17:47:07.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dormir, Tirar, Comer, y Cagar.</title><summary type='text'>Dormir, Tirar, Comer, y Cagar. Son los Grandes placeres de la vida. - me dijo recordando las ultimas ocasiones en que había realmente gozado cada uno de ellos.- Aunque me parece que las epifanías pueden rivalizar los mencionados placeres.Encontrar en el sonido del viento las voces de aquellos que existieron antes de ti, y realizar que no estuviste solo en el universo y que tu voz siempre estará </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/feeds/111351882742280078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12182093&amp;postID=111351882742280078&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351882742280078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12182093/posts/default/111351882742280078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sfmh.blogspot.com/2005/04/dormir-tirar-comer-y-cagar.html' title='Dormir, Tirar, Comer, y Cagar.'/><author><name>Manuel Villa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14734098723641745344</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qUvVokNjbf8/R89BlPFl6vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8Imq-w34Mmg/S220/manu.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
