Thursday, August 26, 2004
And a big, booming voice said: 'And there shall be light!'
'Light', saith she, 'hmm...'
'And there shall be at least seven days and seven nights!'
'Okay', saith she, 'more than a week then...'
'And there shall be a beach...'
'Super!'
'...and a swimming pool...and ice cream bars and splendid food and peaches dripping with juices...'
'I know, I know!' said I (fore it was I), 'especially if there may also be goats and honey and gangs shooting handguns, while drunken, at night?'
'There may', saith the voice generously.
'That's it'! said I: 'I'm going to Sardinia!'
I'll be back soon.
'Light', saith she, 'hmm...'
'And there shall be at least seven days and seven nights!'
'Okay', saith she, 'more than a week then...'
'And there shall be a beach...'
'Super!'
'...and a swimming pool...and ice cream bars and splendid food and peaches dripping with juices...'
'I know, I know!' said I (fore it was I), 'especially if there may also be goats and honey and gangs shooting handguns, while drunken, at night?'
'There may', saith the voice generously.
'That's it'! said I: 'I'm going to Sardinia!'
I'll be back soon.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
I mostly prefer going to museums on my own. Then I can stay for as long or as short as I like, spending hours in front of Rothko and seconds in front of Constable. What is lovely is not only the art itself, and the frames in which it hangs - interesting becomes also the space in which art has been hung, the correspondence between artwork, viewer and room itself. The noises it makes when feet wearing different foot-wear move across the floors. Children laughing and children whining, bored. Snippets of conversations; some outraged by the (lack of) content of a piece of art, some celebratory, gushing, some analysing at great lenght. People jotting down notes or sketching, concentrating on the task at hand.
Tate Modern is splendid. Not only do they have great shows on, you can turn from a Pollock and see the Lobster Telephone and turn again and enjoy the spectacular view of the Millenium Bridge and St. Paul's. And when you exit you can see the waves and the boats and hear the birdmen whistling.
The Edward Hopper show is full of great paintings and within these paintings great spaces. Hopper himself apparently declared that his paintings were not about loneliness but about aloneness, people (or buildings) being alone in a moment but not feeling lonely. There is a beauty of everyday life in his paintings, not so much questions and rebellions as statements or even an acceptance (not to be confused with resignation) of life, in that moment, in that place. Reality and idealisation is juxtaposed, but again, Hopper not so much questions as investigates.
I fell in love with Hopper about 10 or so years ago when I was introduced to his works at Louisiana, outside Copenhagen. That was an amazing show, kicking the Tate's ass times five, but Tate's is still informative, riveting, interesting. Now, of course, Hopper is almost perceived as art lite, like Monet, but that does not detract from the fact that above it all, many of the paintings still stand as testimonies to a great narrator of life.
Tate Modern is splendid. Not only do they have great shows on, you can turn from a Pollock and see the Lobster Telephone and turn again and enjoy the spectacular view of the Millenium Bridge and St. Paul's. And when you exit you can see the waves and the boats and hear the birdmen whistling.
The Edward Hopper show is full of great paintings and within these paintings great spaces. Hopper himself apparently declared that his paintings were not about loneliness but about aloneness, people (or buildings) being alone in a moment but not feeling lonely. There is a beauty of everyday life in his paintings, not so much questions and rebellions as statements or even an acceptance (not to be confused with resignation) of life, in that moment, in that place. Reality and idealisation is juxtaposed, but again, Hopper not so much questions as investigates.
I fell in love with Hopper about 10 or so years ago when I was introduced to his works at Louisiana, outside Copenhagen. That was an amazing show, kicking the Tate's ass times five, but Tate's is still informative, riveting, interesting. Now, of course, Hopper is almost perceived as art lite, like Monet, but that does not detract from the fact that above it all, many of the paintings still stand as testimonies to a great narrator of life.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
So what can we learn from looking at the current state of this website?
1. My taste in film changes according to mood: at the moment I'm into big, loud, colourful American movies, insulting on many levels, intelligent on few. Corresponds to how I feel, really: insulting many, showing intelligence to few.
2. I'm reading porn. Won't go into deeper into that. Boyfriend reads the blog, don'tchaknow.
3. I like men. Semi-famous men. Like this one, this one and, oh, that one.
4. Mood is not good, body lazy. Mind shut down. Started doing quizzes again. Says it all, really.
5. I'm getting sloppy. Links-wise, getting titles right, spelling and grammar. I'm tired.
6. Could it possibly be that I need a new job?
Guilty pleasures at present:
Dude, Where's My Car? (I don't care! It makes me laugh!)
In Style magazine (I don't care! The fashion is fabulous, darling!)
1,000 Places To See Before You Die (I don't care! I like lists! And I'm not an outdoor person! I need a book to tell me how to shit in the woods and still look gorgeous!)
Everything Ben Stiller-related. (I don't care! He's cute, he's funny and utterly, utterly ridiculous!)
TopShop (oh, whatever, have you ever been there?)
Sugababes (so minging they're almost cute. Almost.)
Will Young (I think he's loverly)
Dawson's Creek (don't...)
And no, I'm not 17, I thought I had a life and I do consider myself a grown up.
Most of the time.
1. My taste in film changes according to mood: at the moment I'm into big, loud, colourful American movies, insulting on many levels, intelligent on few. Corresponds to how I feel, really: insulting many, showing intelligence to few.
2. I'm reading porn. Won't go into deeper into that. Boyfriend reads the blog, don'tchaknow.
3. I like men. Semi-famous men. Like this one, this one and, oh, that one.
4. Mood is not good, body lazy. Mind shut down. Started doing quizzes again. Says it all, really.
5. I'm getting sloppy. Links-wise, getting titles right, spelling and grammar. I'm tired.
6. Could it possibly be that I need a new job?
Guilty pleasures at present:
Dude, Where's My Car? (I don't care! It makes me laugh!)
In Style magazine (I don't care! The fashion is fabulous, darling!)
1,000 Places To See Before You Die (I don't care! I like lists! And I'm not an outdoor person! I need a book to tell me how to shit in the woods and still look gorgeous!)
Everything Ben Stiller-related. (I don't care! He's cute, he's funny and utterly, utterly ridiculous!)
TopShop (oh, whatever, have you ever been there?)
Sugababes (so minging they're almost cute. Almost.)
Will Young (I think he's loverly)
Dawson's Creek (don't...)
And no, I'm not 17, I thought I had a life and I do consider myself a grown up.
Most of the time.
Saturday, August 21, 2004
Well, not big and not clever, and so predictable that it almost becomes unpredictable, but good fun. It is so unpolitically correct that it doesn't insult - no one goes free and yet it is extremely friendly.
Try the game here.
I like tall men. Ooh Vince - still so money, baby.
(Trailer for Anchorman is a hoot - and Wimbledon looks, if not exactly interesting, then very appealing - aah, Paul Bettany. - Diary of Wimbledon-extra here.
Should the decline in my film taste worry me? I guess that's an altogether different discussion which I'll save for a rainy day.)
Try the game here.
I like tall men. Ooh Vince - still so money, baby.
(Trailer for Anchorman is a hoot - and Wimbledon looks, if not exactly interesting, then very appealing - aah, Paul Bettany. - Diary of Wimbledon-extra here.
Should the decline in my film taste worry me? I guess that's an altogether different discussion which I'll save for a rainy day.)
Okay, okay, so it's The Incredibles. Sorry, folks at Pixar.
And I'm tired, 'cause it seems that everyone around me are hypocondriacs/mentally frail/psychologically twisted/nuts. Am considering a potential viewing of Dodgeball tonight just to lift spirits and forget about, well, thinking.
That, and succombing to the charms of Vince Vaughn.
And I'm tired, 'cause it seems that everyone around me are hypocondriacs/mentally frail/psychologically twisted/nuts. Am considering a potential viewing of Dodgeball tonight just to lift spirits and forget about, well, thinking.
That, and succombing to the charms of Vince Vaughn.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Danish Olympic sailor kills...erm...someone...
It seems that no one can confirm who this person is, according to the Danish papers he was Jamaican, according to the British, he is, well, British. Tourist or touristguide? Caterer? The British papers take this quite seriously and seem put off by Nicklas Holm's apparently defensive stance. Danish papers, on the other hand, have moved onto more interesting things at hand, such as the Minister for Culture, who is taking his clothes off.
Hideous.
It seems that no one can confirm who this person is, according to the Danish papers he was Jamaican, according to the British, he is, well, British. Tourist or touristguide? Caterer? The British papers take this quite seriously and seem put off by Nicklas Holm's apparently defensive stance. Danish papers, on the other hand, have moved onto more interesting things at hand, such as the Minister for Culture, who is taking his clothes off.
Hideous.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
I've never been too interested in superheroes. I was mildly keen on the first couple of Batman-films, mainly because of the gorgeous art direction. I have an awareness of the existence of certain comic books/films/etc. Other than that, I've never really been into these things. Three films have now caught my eye:
Spiderman
Spiderman 2
The Invincibles
To start with the latter: just try to catch the trailer, will you?!
As for Spiderman...
He shoots!
He swings!
He packs a punch!
He is a nerd who is also a hero, the underdog as topdog, the meek inheriting the earth.
I AM SPIDERMAN!!!
Doc Ock is a splendid villain, chemistry between leads sizzles and flying through a city never looked lovelier. Is the first better than the second? The films better than the comic books?
Oh, who cares, when it's all just this much fun!
In celebration of my Spidey-obsession, I give you the quiz:
http://www.liquidgeneration.com/quiz/images/powerfist.jpg
Spiderman
Spiderman 2
The Invincibles
To start with the latter: just try to catch the trailer, will you?!
As for Spiderman...
He shoots!
He swings!
He packs a punch!
He is a nerd who is also a hero, the underdog as topdog, the meek inheriting the earth.
I AM SPIDERMAN!!!
Doc Ock is a splendid villain, chemistry between leads sizzles and flying through a city never looked lovelier. Is the first better than the second? The films better than the comic books?
Oh, who cares, when it's all just this much fun!
In celebration of my Spidey-obsession, I give you the quiz:
http://www.liquidgeneration.com/quiz/images/powerfist.jpg
Friday, August 13, 2004
As the rain is absolutely pouring down, I'm pondering the way in which I buy books. I guess some people go to the same shops all the time. My partner prefers buying books (as well as CD's, software and pretty much everything else) on the internet. Some people will instinctively primarily go to Borders or some such high street chain.
For academic books, Waterstone's in Gower Street usually suffices, especially the second hand bit in the back.
Amazon is good if you are buying books for eg a reading list.
Otherwise I shop where I am; do I pass by Unsworths in Bloomsbury I will pop in, am I strolling the South Bank, the second hand market outside NFT is lovely.
Museum shops are useful. High street chain are perfectly capable unless you are looking for academic rareties. Book Warehouse is great to browse, if you have the time and patience - both these shops and the £2.00 shops are a bit hit and miss.
In Cambridge & Oxford, the University Presses must be visited - just for the hell of it.
British Library.
Daunt in Marylebone High Street for travel books. Book for Cooks...well...
The little, almost invisible bookshop opposite Farringdon station.
There's a bookshop for every occasion, for every mood, for every genre - London is great for books, everybody reads everywhere and somehow there seems to be great respect for books. Which is great. (Except perhaps for the quality of the English book - not the text, but the book - as opposed to the American?)
In other news:
Disgusting.
Exhilarating?
And just plain weird.
For academic books, Waterstone's in Gower Street usually suffices, especially the second hand bit in the back.
Amazon is good if you are buying books for eg a reading list.
Otherwise I shop where I am; do I pass by Unsworths in Bloomsbury I will pop in, am I strolling the South Bank, the second hand market outside NFT is lovely.
Museum shops are useful. High street chain are perfectly capable unless you are looking for academic rareties. Book Warehouse is great to browse, if you have the time and patience - both these shops and the £2.00 shops are a bit hit and miss.
In Cambridge & Oxford, the University Presses must be visited - just for the hell of it.
British Library.
Daunt in Marylebone High Street for travel books. Book for Cooks...well...
The little, almost invisible bookshop opposite Farringdon station.
There's a bookshop for every occasion, for every mood, for every genre - London is great for books, everybody reads everywhere and somehow there seems to be great respect for books. Which is great. (Except perhaps for the quality of the English book - not the text, but the book - as opposed to the American?)
In other news:
Disgusting.
Exhilarating?
And just plain weird.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
The act of reading (and by reading I mean reading, not dissecting or translating, say, a sign) is, for me, surrounded by rituals:
I find it difficult to read books on airplanes. Magazines are perfect, because they don't demand any kind of attention span. My mind is usually on other things when I travel.
Reading in cars and buses makes me motion sick.
In the morning, on the tube, I am unable to read a book - too tired. On the way home at night, on the other hand, I read very well.
Chick-lit I prefer not to read at all. And anything by Tony Parsons.
- Magazines can be read pretty much anywhere, anytime. Non-fiction likewise.
- Poetry must be studied, preferably in a quiet atmosphere, best done seated upright, possibly with pen in hand, to scribble notes in the margin. Literary criticism likewise.
- Fiction can be read in most places, according to genre.
- Something drinkable must be present, preferably tea.
- Rain is good, or some kind of greyness, or the darkness of night - alternatively sunshine outdoors is good, but heat and humidity is a killer.
- Stomach must be pleasantly full, but not overstuffed, and it is recommended to have some kind of snack (of the bagged or wrapped variety) at hand. Nothing too sticky, though, as it must be possible to devour this snack with one hand, eyes not leaving the page.
- Other people's noises must be dealt with in a swift manner - make them go away, or at least into the other room.
I find it difficult to read books on airplanes. Magazines are perfect, because they don't demand any kind of attention span. My mind is usually on other things when I travel.
Reading in cars and buses makes me motion sick.
In the morning, on the tube, I am unable to read a book - too tired. On the way home at night, on the other hand, I read very well.
Chick-lit I prefer not to read at all. And anything by Tony Parsons.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Do you have the patience (and eyesight!) to read a book on your phone? Outside the Fortress Besieged is being converted into 4200 characters.
The thought of reading a book, however chopped and changed, on my phone, fills me with dread. I was always apprehensive of mobile phones, just as I was of email addresses and CD players. I'm (un)naturally suspicious - of things I don't know, I guess - and generally uncomfortable around technology. I do like buttons, though, and things that do things when you do things, and so quickly embraced the notion of email and internet.
I really like my phone, it's quite small and nifty and not the same boring old thing as most people have, so I'm quite pleased with the look of it, and the fact that I can check my email while I'm waiting for the bus. I also enjoy the privilege of being able to ring people to say that I'm late, or to be able to send a quick text message when I can't be bothered to talk. But being in a constant text conversation throughout a day bores me no end. So the thought of receiving text after text after text in order for me to finish reading a story makes me feel sick rather than elated. Somehow it doesn't appeal to me to sit down on my sofa, rain pouring down, with a cup of tea and my, er, mobile phone.
Oh, btw charlotte street looks interesting. Nothing to do with the name, I promise!
The thought of reading a book, however chopped and changed, on my phone, fills me with dread. I was always apprehensive of mobile phones, just as I was of email addresses and CD players. I'm (un)naturally suspicious - of things I don't know, I guess - and generally uncomfortable around technology. I do like buttons, though, and things that do things when you do things, and so quickly embraced the notion of email and internet.
I really like my phone, it's quite small and nifty and not the same boring old thing as most people have, so I'm quite pleased with the look of it, and the fact that I can check my email while I'm waiting for the bus. I also enjoy the privilege of being able to ring people to say that I'm late, or to be able to send a quick text message when I can't be bothered to talk. But being in a constant text conversation throughout a day bores me no end. So the thought of receiving text after text after text in order for me to finish reading a story makes me feel sick rather than elated. Somehow it doesn't appeal to me to sit down on my sofa, rain pouring down, with a cup of tea and my, er, mobile phone.
Oh, btw charlotte street looks interesting. Nothing to do with the name, I promise!
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
We've got 'round about 800 CDs.
'But how many of them do you ever listen to'? asked the woman, raising her eyebrows to the sky in horror. The waste of money, the waste of space!
But I find it difficult to part with CD's, even the horrid ones that make my skin crawl. 'Cause once upon a time they meant something to me and some of them still make me feel. The only CD's I ever get rid of are the once that never were.
At my parents' house I've still got old vinyl, locked away in a cupboard. One day I'll buy a turntable and get back to the roots and the riots.
I may only listen to most of my CDs once a year the most, but that one time will make me happy. Which I think brings some value in itself.
Anyway I've stayed in Verlaine's Batignolles, touched Epstein's angel at Pere Lachaise, marvelled over Manet's Olympia in Musee D'Orsay and watched Paris from Sacre Coeur. I'm knackered.
'But how many of them do you ever listen to'? asked the woman, raising her eyebrows to the sky in horror. The waste of money, the waste of space!
But I find it difficult to part with CD's, even the horrid ones that make my skin crawl. 'Cause once upon a time they meant something to me and some of them still make me feel. The only CD's I ever get rid of are the once that never were.
At my parents' house I've still got old vinyl, locked away in a cupboard. One day I'll buy a turntable and get back to the roots and the riots.
I may only listen to most of my CDs once a year the most, but that one time will make me happy. Which I think brings some value in itself.
Anyway I've stayed in Verlaine's Batignolles, touched Epstein's angel at Pere Lachaise, marvelled over Manet's Olympia in Musee D'Orsay and watched Paris from Sacre Coeur. I'm knackered.
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