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Article on Physical Culture November / December

The current issue of Physical Culture (November / December 2010) has published the second part of my article "The Origins of the Body- Building ".

But the story continues in future issues of the magazine there will be a dedicated service to the origins of body-building in America.

a good read for all interested persons.

Visit their site: http://www.culturafisica.it/

In the picture Eugen Sandow (1867-1925), father of modern bodybuilding.

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3 - Sur la Seine

She stood slender and statuesque on the Seine, the barefoot and wrapped in a pretty dusty darkness rested on the wall, his clothes shredded crisp autumn air moving swollen and blue eyes, which were the only two blue dots nightlife in Paris, staring aseptically slow flowing river.
"Do not rush, my love." He said he, advancing with rapid strides, but elegant. He moved laundry in his coat, like a ghost, and raised in the air with his right hand trembling, the pledge of love that she mistakenly believed he had stolen.
"Here, love." He said, hugging the slender legs, pale as those of an ancient queen, from sheer stockings torn.
"Here, love." And she handed the crisp brown envelope, inside which a bottle of black glass that keeps the hopes of drinking from the collective imagination of the homeless Paris. She took the bag and carried it to her lips reddish; was about to remove the cap and drink, while he continued to shake their legs.
I remember from that distance, from the café where I sipped the last beer of the evening, they could look really, because of their remoteness or my opacity, poetic figures of vagabonds or bohemians and artists, not two drunken tourists at the end of a long tag.
I remember thinking "now goes", just as with his white teeth and little ones, remove the cork from the bottle and black, glancing in the car, toward the road where there was none but his want to be the scene of some highlight film glancing in the car bowed legs and thigh muscles contracted. Then he jumped up and immediately fell down, like a cloth or a dress stuck on a hanger.

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4 - Mandarins

The gasping fish in the aquarium, swimming among the extinguished cigarette that sinks to rest on the bottom, among the algae and corals fake. To give the coup de grace to cute animals, red shirt without paying a guy Fernet Branca already murky water. There's a girl standing on the couch, right next to the window, his arms are stretched thin air and, with random movements, trying to intercept the mandarins that come from the street.
The boy, after finishing the bottle in the aquarium without having neglected to drain the last drop, it just sticks out, shading his eyes with his hands. The road is a lot of heads and arms and bodies and legs and especially mandarins, from downstairs, below the room where you are closed on boy and girl out electronic music mixed with screams. But now the house is no one left.
"Open up! Open up! "Cries a young man with the hat, then someone puts up a Mandarin and he throws it, laughing.
"Let us fuck in peace." Responds the boy at the window, thickly, and then turns his gaze upon the girl standing on the couch, asking her consent. She nods yes, and mutters, amused, "But where they have taken all those mandarins?"
paw feet, legs, trotting out of time, heads nod and hands, almost automatically, throw mandarins. After a few minutes of madness
fruits orange finish, but one, coming from the window, hit the chandelier in the room, breaking it and giving the two boys remnants of the dark. From the road the screams continue throughout the night and the music booms from the strong room, but the two guys do not listen to it more, because they have nothing else to do, and even listen to it over the fish, because they are dead.

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2 - Mike

Mike entered the palace from the secondary, because the glass door was blocked by the painters who, following the directions of the administrator, they were repainting the lobby. Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor of his apartment, pulled from his jeans pocket a sheet of squared paper, worn, folded in an irregular way, and broke it reread for the umpteenth time.
His feet are stuck on the third step, and after a moment's hesitation, they brought down on the ground floor, where painters and splashed pink stretched hands. Mike took a jar out of sight and hidden under the stairs, spilled paint in the mouth, drowning.

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1 - Floz

The garbage truck has turned in the fifty-scoured. The driver had to be drunk or crazy. The left wheels were raised off the ground and those on the right, supporting the full weight of scrap metal, are creaking.
Floz's car sped in the opposite direction, was overtaking a taxi at excessive speeds. From the sidewalk you could hear the music out the windows, classical music was played as strong as a rock concert. I remember thinking "that Floz is "a moment before you see the truck.
A second later it was all a screech of brakes, a splash of tires on asphalt and then, inevitably, the bang. Pieces of junk against the buildings and screams and sirens and black smoke. The truck was entered into in the car of Floz depth, like a fist, and had spit glass and metal, crush. Floz's body was compressed and then disrupted, a piece of my arm darted against, making me upset that I had just bought the coffee from Starbucks.

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Without the help of Jesus

She was clearly the smell produced by the amount of sweat and alcohol and humanity, while white halogen lights pulsing at a rate of approximately 12: sec by (In) voluntarily appear that mass social rocking / homogeneous as in a post-nuclear experience in which dance propriziatori bodily transcendence and trying to get comfort or absolution from the gods ontologically immune to any kind of earthly experience, nuclear or not. A person at my side, low, from light dress without a bra is abandoned to his lips and tongue of a strange white blond person in turn has no bra, while waving his arms wide as if in a stream of invisible air seem to emphasize the distance between his rational mind and his momentary pleasure. With his free hand from a highball glass nearly full of alcohol squeeze the inner thigh of one of people, sometimes causing deep sighs that force (a person) to discontinue oral slow and savoring the following by the other person of his (the person) which was visible on the breasts a thin film of sweat hot and potentially TV . The music is deafening, a regular electronic sound empty claims and yet able to enchant, pulses of a war in which none of the victims were all temporary. I light a cigarette against social law in force - no one respects no law in war, I think - and I look confused in the smoke hood over the heads of people swaying under my stage and my sofas behind the thick rope and red-protected a black person if it had been would have appeared simply Caucasian fat. Turning her hand into the tight jeans of the person - one does not matter of course - and feeling her skin care and humid while my tongue as far as I know you could be just the white tasted right nipple, she takes the cigarette Do not look through two eyes tight and just begging to be killed of hormones, and smoking in a way that I did not think possible. The second person is now committed to bite the neck of the other and keep the delicate hand and pink inside my pants. The large black person looks at me and really gives me a nod. I stare at him a few seconds. I think I have no idea what I'm doing or seeking or avoiding. I think want to be normal.

EH 2

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Here I am struggling with a tear in training with 70 kg, not quite perfect, but with the maximum of the technique that I can express. :-)

Tear 70 kg - 154 lbs Snatch.

Legnano (MI) - October 25, 2010