i miss the stupid cups of cheap coffee you could keep having and a few days back i was craving the spoilt and fluorescent cream on old cakes slices you easily get in all edgy bakeries. then yesterday i wanted to gnaw wheat grain; feel it between my teeth and tongue and after biting it some softish flour thing you can finally make it after dissolving long enough in saliva. then i missed ubiquitous pointlessness. what do you think is happening? maybe spending whole holiday tomm on a unaffordable book got on 'e.m'. did i tell you i got half-mugged on the metro when i was walking in a dark passage last sunday. 2 guys were tailing me and as fate goes i was the last person in a crowd up the elevator, one of them tapped me on the back. isn't that a spooky way to start? and why was I calm. but not going ahead with the story. we'll keep it.
Spent the whole day getting to Louvian_la_Neuve to meet A Drese who put together the book on Dayabai, Lady of Fire, that you would have read in a past post here. Here's a pic of dayabai again; A Drese was a wise gracious host and shared a sense of remaining viciously commited to what you feel strongly about. She gave me a copy of the film she put together; will try to put it up on youtube. after permission, how could i forget.
Almost forgot I had a stand on it in the first place. That most people allow themselves to feel complete in society settings (read 'parties') only when their better half's languishing somewhere in view in the same enclosure. Enough so if they feel even partially alienated, they mope through the bravery and finally agitate their mobile to getting their aff over using some voice tricks with implications. It is a failure of faith. This sight has been so disappointing from birth. It was strange, observing it all yesterday whether they're putting up a good show or not, they're fishoutoftwater without their halves; less ready to throw caution to the winds on their own terms. It's exactly the sort of situation I really pity; but some cava sparkling (Freixenet) helps at those times to play a little game about being airy for a stiff while only. Which is when I decided to say biebiegottogo to cameo regret faces somewhere and walked to the metro and rode without putting in the ticket; officials can pull you up for that; and there was a tense moment when one tailed me as I waited. In other news, it seems Malta and me just click. And also that if tomorrow evening's readings are going to be about gender tensions, I am going to make a very big noise next to my duvel. and zats awl.
And this is what you get. Pleasure. Several houses in many earlier layouts and even some current onesin Bangalore hold houses whose construction had considerable involvement of the owner. These houses include tenement-shanties that you can see straightaway are absolutely inventive and the work of thrill and sweet concern. All I ever wanted was to never live in an apartment but a house that stood on ground and yes, that we were involved in building. It's important not to get besotted over ownership of course, but when pops put together something, however hemmed, several years back, it became true. Now look at this pretty thing in the favelas of Sao Paolo. Special waves of good energy going out to Estevao Silva da Conceicao. Home construction should not be the preserve of the academically trained; practically trained - ofcourse. As Estevao has been - as assistant to a builder for several years.
'Developments in brain imaging are bringing us ever closer to a scientific understanding of why a particular individual is the way they are. The ability to check, reconsider and withhold an action is essential given the complex social settings in which we live,' he concluded. -Professor Haggard, UCL
I do not want to visit paris even though its just 3 hours away. For what? I can see the dumb arc d't right here. I even go jogging round it. But if I were heckled into it, this is the one tour i would make - Paris' Sewer Network. No, not event that.
Finally made it to the CdeVoyageurs for the BWG meet. Had the same Duvel stout that the men were having. I had to smile into the distance while 2 groups had their own discussion before I twisted into the gap in good time. We could not have the usual room and were demoted to the basement instead with grace. The first 2 poems ran well. Only think I couldnt come down from the beer to read as it was being read. And then I go break decorum and read someone else's poem and also dont bring copies for everyone. That's because i did not know; no one had old me. egad - to the bwits in attendance. However, the poem i read was ofcourse akr's obituary. And they loved it. All in all I came away looking like a louse (all wrong). And walked back quite a bit still floating from the duvel to zee metro back to the room. As for the bwg, I loved the critics. No politeness here. I love it. Now writing for them...for next week.
I've always felt this way when most within and turned out, specially so now as before. When the light comes in through the wedge of a tall curtain and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up - ready for a book. I crave Hanif Kureishi once more. Always have. He's lost not of his immediate pleasure, and neither have I. It's been much water since Buddha and many sniggers of rehashing. Hanif any day or night. I want to know.
We couldnt keep to the estimate to view either of the previous exhibit, though we all still have time till the year end. That has more to do with exceding budget estimate for the week. Thats because had the local beer after work yesterday, courtsey a nice adventure with K; later that evening went to a party hosted by a greek to celebrate his change of job from M to some law form. A number of greeks in attendance, small party, impotent speakers, gracious host, all quite fine, talked a bit, headed back at 2 in a taxi [3 of us might have alked back though, only we were exhausted]. And then today on shoes and a bag. So thats how the budget was exceded, so I walk for a week to and from work in recompense. And smoke instead of dinner.
These emphatic tours to ressurect the impression for old masters have come in for the ubiquitous criticism. What so, since I struggle to believe I am even alive, it helps to consider that even an idea with a memory from time is perpetuated and reinforced some how. So when you were 7 you read somewhere about the renaissance and you heard about the great masters, and in a week you can see their paintings; if its a conspiracy of course they would just be copies. Anyway, so i save up and go to both da vinci and rubens.
'Rubens, a Genius at Work', opens September 14 and will run through January 27, 2008; Royal Museum of Fine Arts is located near Brussels' Central Train Station in the Regentschapsstraat/Rue de la Régence 3, 1000 Brussels.
Spent the whole day getting to Louvian_la_Neuve to meet A Drese who put together the book on Dayabai, Lady of Fire, that you would have read in a past post here. Here's a pic of dayabai again; A Drese was a wise gracious host and shared a sense of remaining viciously commited to what you feel strongly about. She gave me a copy of the film she put together; will try to put it up on youtube. after permission, how could i forget.
Almost forgot I had a stand on it in the first place. That most people allow themselves to feel complete in society settings (read 'parties') only when their better half's languishing somewhere in view in the same enclosure. Enough so if they feel even partially alienated, they mope through the bravery and finally agitate their mobile to getting their aff over using some voice tricks with implications. It is a failure of faith. This sight has been so disappointing from birth. It was strange, observing it all yesterday whether they're putting up a good show or not, they're fishoutoftwater without their halves; less ready to throw caution to the winds on their own terms. It's exactly the sort of situation I really pity; but some cava sparkling (Freixenet) helps at those times to play a little game about being airy for a stiff while only. Which is when I decided to say biebiegottogo to cameo regret faces somewhere and walked to the metro and rode without putting in the ticket; officials can pull you up for that; and there was a tense moment when one tailed me as I waited.
'Developments in brain imaging are bringing us ever closer to a scientific understanding of why a particular individual is the way they are. The ability to check, reconsider and withhold an action is essential given the complex social settings in which we live,' he concluded.
Finally made it to the CdeVoyageurs for the BWG meet. Had the same Duvel stout that the men were having. I had to smile into the distance while 2 groups had their own discussion before I twisted into the gap in good time. We could not have the usual room and were demoted to the basement instead with grace. The first 2 poems ran well. Only think I couldnt come down from the beer to read as it was being read. And then I go break decorum and read someone else's poem and also dont bring copies for everyone. That's because i did not know; no one had old me. egad - to the bwits in attendance. However, the poem i read was ofcourse akr's obituary. And they loved it. All in all I came away looking like a louse (all wrong). And walked back quite a bit still floating from the duvel to zee metro back to the room. As for the bwg, I loved the critics. No politeness here. I love it. Now writing for them...for next week.
I've always felt this way when most within and turned out, specially so now as before. When the light comes in through the wedge of a tall curtain and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up - ready for a book. I crave Hanif Kureishi once more. Always have. He's lost not of his immediate pleasure, and neither have I. It's been much water since Buddha and many sniggers of rehashing. Hanif any day or night. I want to know.
These emphatic tours to ressurect the impression for old masters have come in for the ubiquitous criticism. What so, since I struggle to believe I am even alive, it helps to consider that even an idea with a memory from time is perpetuated and reinforced some how. So when you were 7 you read somewhere about the renaissance and you heard about the great masters, and in a week you can see their paintings; if its a conspiracy of course they would just be copies. Anyway, so i save up and go to both da vinci and rubens.
