Thursday, 31 July 2008

A confession of sorts ...

One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it: - it was the black kitten's fault entirely.

Here is a song:

You can fill in the gaps yourselves. Draw them in with red, green, blue and black bic biros.


Then she began looking about and noticed that what could be seen from the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest was as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on the chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at her.

Here's to 213 days in the Looking Glass World.

Wrapped up in books, again.

Just to complete late-night halbwissen, and fill out all the pot-holes in my education - here are 2 demonic figures from Romantic poetry that I sort of jumbled up yesterday.

Demogorgon from the Shelley's Prometheus Unbound.
And Arimanes from Byron's Manfred.

I need to start reading my dear second generation Romantics again. How my heart beats faster when I think on their themes. Ah!

I have finished The French Lieutenant's Woman. Today on the train. I must say, I find the ending masterful. Normally I have a problem with the endings of fictional works. I blame this on my slightly schizoid personality, or, well, this very pronounced inner schism of mine, the separation of mind and heart, if you will, rational thinking and emotional yearning. Somehow this dischord shows itself especially in my dilemma with endings. While my emotional, soppy side really wants Disney or Austen happy endings, my cynical, rational, critical side always has to sneer at them.
If I say John Fowles created a masterful ending, I mean that he somehow managed to overcome this dilemma. In the second version of the ending, he lets the rationalist "win" over the sentimentalist, simply by having the last word. The second ending reveals the flat-ness of the first. Even though the first ending "pushes buttons", caters to the romantic desires that everybody has, no doubt, having read the second one, you cannot really go back to believing in the first.
And the really good thing is, the second ending isn't just a negative inversion of the first one. If the first ending is white, then the second isn't black. It's maybe grey. More likely, though, it is really colourful. And in that, it is a celebration of life's diversity - to take up the Darwin-metaphor -, with all its ups and downs, comings and goings. It is a romanticised vision of a fallen world, a hymn to the imperfect, the secular, the ever-changing, maybe to humanity: sung by the people who have realised that heaven is a place where nothing ever happens, at it's really much better to live your life on Earth.
This is of course my own view, that I read into this ending. But what I mean is, that this book somehow managed to end without forcing either the cynic or the romantic in me to compromise. It satisfied both. And that is an excellent achievement.

Sunday, 27 July 2008

You just don’t know if he is up for what you have in mind ...

Summer's hasting on
I'm trying to get a feeling from
The city but I've been unfaithful
I've been travelling abroad.

I will write about Berlin and Munich, but somehow I don't feel I can deal with the whole load of information that I will have to process and mediate just yet.
And I need to wait for the photos.

In the meantime, I have just "accidentially" re-discovered how terribly great this song is:

I wish I had two paths I could follow
I’d write the ending without any sorrow

I love it when songs see right through you.

We've got a fantasy affair
We didn’t get wet. We didn’t dare.
Our aspirations are wrapped up in books.
Our inclinations are hidden in looks.

If you click on this link you can illegally download one of the most amazing songs I ever heard:
The Psychiatrist Is In
I ripped it from the God Help The Girl myspace. I love Catherine Ireton's voice, which is so pleasant, and inobtrusive and the way she sings, without flourishes, is just plain beautiful. And I love the Chanson-Shuffle of the song. And I love the lyrics. I can't wait for the finished God-Help-The-Girl outcome. This project really gives me something to look forward to, musically, especially as there is a good chance that it will feature a Neil Hannon collaboration - which is something that might very well blow my mind. Belle & Sebastian AND Neil Hannon in one song. *swoons* Even though, apparently, Neil 'plays' the role of a weird Swiss man called Anton. I don't care! I don't care! The man makes the ridiculous sublime!

Friday, 25 July 2008

Nobody can see us.

Oh. The pain the unbearable pain.


Wednesday, 16 July 2008

Nobody raise your voices ...

What, What, What?
Second post in a day, I am losing my nerve in every way.
Pictured above: not the best outfit ever, but quite nice. I made the t-shirt myself, that is, I sowed the dark felt clover onto the t-shirt which I had bought in a shop.

I can't bear to watch Zach Condon, but his music is ... well, his music.

Please forgive this brief intrusion ...

Well, I am one of those young would-be hipsters who are going to Berlin in the near future. Very near future. Less than 24 hours, in fact.

I got up very early today: at quarter to 5 a.m. Then I got up again, at half past 5, at 6, and at 7, which is when I started packing. You can see photographic evidence of my obsessive compulsive tendencies right here:

Although the camera messed up the colours, I think it should be clear that everything is completely colour co-ordinated. There are only 3 colours - red, blue, dark yellow - and black and white. Even the bottle of the sun lotion conforms. The perfect order is only broken by my stupid lilac coloured contact lense fluid!!
I did this to calm my nerves.

I can say with some pride that I have finished my Art History paper in due time. Something
tells me, however, that I probably won't be so 'fanatick' as to write the missing 6.000 words for the English Seminar paper until 4.30 am tomorrow, which is when I have to leave the house to catch the bus to the airport. It would be the honourable, dutiful, and utterly relieving thing to do, but I'm not sure it would result in the best version of the paper I could possibly produce. Not that I would actually write the best version of the paper I could possibly produce in any case. I'm much too scared of failure to give my best. And, incidentally, too lazy. Which brings to the fore the real reason why I will probably not have that paper ready by tomorrow. On the other hand it would be really fantastic not to have a left-over task nagging at the back of my head and dampening my mood for the rest of the week. We will see. Sleep is overrated, as they say.

"If I am to die
Let it be in summertime
In a manner of my own choosing
To fall from a great height
On a warm July afternoon."

Tuesday, 15 July 2008

Storytelling ...

It seems I will have to read this book as soon as possible:

My brother and I used to play a game. I'd point to a chair. "THIS IS NOT A CHAIR," I'd say. Bird would point to the table. "THIS IS NOT A TABLE." "THIS IS NOT A WALL," I'd say. "THAT IS NOT A CEILING." We'd go on like that. "IT IS NOT RAINING OUT." "MY SHOE IS NOT UNTIED!" Bird would yell. I'd point to my elbow. "THIS IS NOT A SCRAPE." Bird would lift his knee. "THIS IS ALSO NOT A SCRAPE!" "THAT IS NOT A KETTLE!" "NOT A CUP!" "NOT A SPOON!" "NOT DIRTY DISHES!" We denied whole rooms, years, weathers. Once, at the peak of our shouting, Bird took a deep breath. At the top of his lungs, he shrieked: "I! HAVE NOT! BEEN! UNHAPPY! MY WHOLE! LIFE!" "But you're only seven," I said."
Isn't that amazingly sad/beautiful?
The quotes on here point toward a stunning ability to put into words those facts about (my) life that are generally believed to go without saying. Which is a quality (in writers) that always, always wins me over. I was just about to remark that her style reminds me of Jonathan Safran Foer, when I read that he is her husband. Interesting.

A picture of Wes Anderson, because I never really knew what he looked like, but since I've known, his face seems to haunt me. Somebody please tell me who he reminds me of!? He looks uncannily familiar, but maybe his looks just align with some archetype inside me? Also I find him kinda hot, and of course he is also a genius.

My room smells of fresh laundry, I adore it.
I want to surround myself with boundless beauty.

Monday, 14 July 2008

Tempest ...

Sunday, 13 July 2008

Jubilations ...

Here's a picture of me looking happy in front of the Freiheizhalle in Munich. Just before going in to see the Magnetic Fields.


Furthermore: I took the effort to complete my Muxtape.
In other words, there are now 12 songs on it that you must listen to. It is essential.

"Pathos, Irony and Soup"


Saturday, 12 July 2008

Stealing your lines ...

I sometimes forget how much I like Belle & Sebastian, and I really shouldn't.

Yesterday was minor spontaneity & spening a nice evening in Vienna with Theodora. Featuring cycling through an almost deserted, summery city, the ingenious breaking of minor traffic laws, the air being so warm that it felt like it had body temperature, walking from one restaurant to the next, and deciding on the door-step that we'd rather go somewhere else (we did this 3 times, then we got take-away pizza & later had a drink at Phil - which I hadn't been to before and like very much, despite it being sort of generic and typical and perfectly described by this tag-cloud from Google-Maps:


I think I'm all about "bar, bobo, books" after all.

We talked about things and people we like, which is something I rather enjoy, and for some reason, don't do often enough. I spend too much of my time whining and complaining. It poisons the soul!

This is the LP I ordered the other day:

A swedish band doing acoustic, mellow covers of well known heavy metal songs!
I found a video too:

I suppose it gets a bit boring after a while, but they're sweet songs and I like the concept, although it's hardly a new idea. (Old ideas are good ideas!) I suppose it would be even more interesting (and 'piquant') if I knew all the original versions of the songs. Alas, I have not been educated in classic hard rock and metal. :) There is a live version of Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" on youtube, where they play aboard a ship. Very Badeschiff, and all. But nice!