This metaphor fits very well ...

1. Lipstick!? Wahh!
2. Thomas de Quincy!
3. The Dance!

Make me an offer I can't turn down.

The sad and depressing list of concerts I am considering to attend this winter:

3. 11. 08 - Paper Bird, Szene Wien
6. 11. 08 - Supergrass, Flex
13. 11. 08 - Rotifer, Haus der Musik
17. 11. 08 - Cold War Kids, Arena
20. 11. 08 - The Futureheads, Flex
22. 11. 08 - Okkervil River, Porgy & Bess
4. 12. 08 - Tindersticks, Arena
13. 01. 09 - The Notwist, Arena

I think I might have grown boring.

Cardio-Cornucopia, or, State of the Heart

He gives it back. They all drink lemonade. The end.

What's eating me is a mystery.

Listening to the Long Blondes equals red alert.
When the the WTFs outnumber the Wows, this might be a sign that it's time to get out.


Band Name: The Alarm Belles

Passive/Agressive much?

Sign on the door leading to the yard of our house:

D'aw, rats!

In other news, I appear to have joined a band.

Phantom/Ghost.

Relax, it's only a ghost.
I have proof I was there. Here is the only picture that I seem to have been able to take inbetween my outbreaks of the enthusies:



I like how minimalistic the picture is. And, having just finished Arthur and George, I cannot help but draw a connection to early 20th century Spiritualist seances. Just look at Thies Mynther's bodiless head floating in midair! Dirk von Lowtzow as a medium, indeed! Ah, such Poppycock!

And here's my ticket:


Have I mentioned that at the Brut, they served all willing people a slice of a "Leichenschmaus" which consisted of a "man" dressed in a suit, lying on a table, who was modelled entirely of Leberkäse, apart from his innards, which were potato salad? I found the display positively sickening, especially after having watched Peter Greenaways "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover" two days previously. Urgh. Aparently I do mind cannibalism! Who'd have thought so?

I have feelings of great tendresse towards this ball of wool which I have bought today:




(The yellow light does not really do the colour justice.)

I might knit something confoundingly delicious out of it, but I haven't made up my mind yet, if I will keep it to myself to go with my new nailpolish, or if I will use it to make one or the other Christmas present. One will have to wait and see how things turn out!

Alone and palely loitering with intent.

How fucking great are Phantom/Ghost?
Almost shamefully I have to admit that I hadn't even heard of this project until about 2 or 3 days ago, when Eva told me about the concert that was to take place in the course of the "Themenwochenende" at the Brut theatre. I thought, I'd better tag along, after all I do like Dirk von Lowtzow, and when I saw Tocotronic last year I really couldn't relish it as much as I should have (for reasons that shall, for the time being, remain unexplained.) But how much better this is than Tocotronic?! At least, it is so much more me:
There is this beautiful, and slightly awkward boy-man with the funny voice on a stage, moving in a way that is at once comic and hypnotising, backed only by his friend playing the grand piano. And they play songs that would not sound out of place in a 19th century English drawing room. And the lyrics are taken verbatim or inspired heavily by poetry, literature and classic movies. And they play a song from the Buffy musical!! And!!
I haven't felt this excited during a concert for a long long time - and I think I can even say that the Divine Comedy did not impress me that much (although, of course, one has to take into account that the expectations were so much higher there)

Now, doing my "homework", I am apalled at how long they have been in existence without my knowledge, and naturally I will have to get all the albums, and see them again as soon as possible.
Jesus, there should be more music out there like this. I am terribly, terribly happy to have found this. :) Thank you.

PS: Life signs from nicedayforamood! Wahey. The day is getting better and better.
PPS: I got an A on my seminar paper ... I don't understand. I need an explanation.

"Der ikonoklastische Versuch einer metaphernfreien Sprache muß scheitern."

Oh Rose, thou art sick!

Oh Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
in the howling storm

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy.
And with his dark secret love,
does thy life destroy.

William Blake

We virtually have consumption. Another event in a long chain of Victorian happenings. Oh, Victorianism! The sweet irony that you should enpassionate me so but never descend to my level to satiate my desires. (The poet sighs.)

This book has been rocking my day a bit:




Everything everything.
Julian Barnes is taking considerable time to get started. Although that is probably narrative technique to make the book appear more Victorian. Lol.
Eventually I will not contain myself any more, and burst open like Bradley Headstone in Our Mutual Friend. Only I will not attempt to murder, I will rape the novel! Rape the book!

I am writing allegorically! Both the surface meaning and the underlying meaning are equally true. Ain't life grand?

If love is just a game, then how come it's no fun?

This is my favourite song by Noah and the Whale:

It's just a perfect example of a song where everything is in its right place.

Yesterday I got a small nostalgic fit, and wished myself back in the time when I was still dreaming of going to art school, and my days consisted of tea and acrylic paint. So I covered my floor in newspaper sheets and painted my bedside lamp blue:


And somehow I ended up in Saturn today, and couldn't resist getting Hold On Now, Youngster ... on vinyl. <3

(H)A-ha

Book therapy.

Somehow this morning has not been the best I've ever had, and certainly not the best that I could imagine.
It's not a good idea to drink two cups of coffee after 6 p.m. because it results in lying awake until 5 in the morning with tachycardia and a brain that tries to keep up with the heart and floods you with a plethora of distressing images and apocalyptical visions concerning your own social life. At least this happens to me.

As a consequence, getting up at half past 8 felt a lot like sleepwalking, but at least I managed to dress successfully, and get to my university course in time. The course is called "Practical Phonetics and Oral Communication Skills 2 / Advanced Oral Presentation Skills (TRC 125)" but I watched myself incredulously as I participated in play school name games (using a ball!) and other cringeworthy introductory tasks.

So the only way to improve this morning was book therapy - I had to console myself by marinating in book shop atmosphere for a while, and my shopping spree kind of got a bit out of hand (although I do not regret it). I got these treasures:






I love the covers of this "Great Ideas" Penguin series. (Especially the Ruskin is amazing.) They're 4,80 each, so I might try and get them all. (Collector's obsession)
I'm really curious about Flann O'Brien, I've wanted to read At Swim-Two-Birds ever since I read a little excerpt at the Writers Museum in Dublin last year. Arthur & George has been praised by a number of people whose opinion on books I deem trustworthy. And somehow I got the Flaubert because of the Barnes because I am an associative being, and also because the book just looked so good, sitting there on the shelf. (Penguin Designer Classics Series! Cover designed by Manolo Blahnik!) Finally, Paine, for completeness - and it was published in 1776, an amazing time.

This afternoon, I'll continue the escalating consumption at H&M and IKEA. My doom is nigh!

PS: My History of Architecture exam was completed to satisfaction, so I am pleased in that regard - although I, aware of the real extent of my knowledge, still think that a fail would have been a more appropriate mark. :) Prof. Lorenz is lovely though.It's a shame that he's already half-retired.

Nick Drake vs. Andrea Pozzo

Nick Drake ... Music so sweet that it almost makes you sick. Like an overload of syrup. Perfectly in tune with the autumn sunshine and the fallen leaves among which the airstream of my bike causes revolutionary turbulences as I cycle across the campus. Perfectly in tune even, if I could so far decynicise myself - but I cannot.
And is it necessary?
No need to romantically transfigure what is quite good in reality, right?
I can't think of anything to complain about, apart maybe from a lack of time to do all the things I could think of that I'd love to do right now.

I need to restrain myself from painting my room, for example. (Red, honey-yellow, marble-green, gold - typical colours of high baroque interior design.) No but first of all I need to do this exam tomorrow. And I need to do it well. I need this to continue on this wave of goodness that I'm currently on.
Thank you very much for reading this very strange blog entry, that started all ambient and ended on a sort of manic-neurotic note. Ahh well. Ok, I'm off.

We're safe.

Paris, Pt. 2 & some thoughts

Wahh the whole exam thing is driving me a bit mad! It turned out I can't do the Romanticism one on Tuesday because the list was already full, so I'm doing Architecture in Vienna this Tuesday instead of next. The workload is overwhelming, but for the first time in quite a long while I feel like I'm working like a proper student should. That's a good feeling. It also means that I'm totally antisocial and grumpy towards the people in my vicinity ... which happens to be only Flatmate and her guests. (sigh)
Yesterday I cycled to campus to sort some things out, and dropped by the "Student Point" to ask them about the status of my application for that one course which had been dramatically complicated by the new application system. The young man (hehe) there was very friendly and sympathetic but all he could to was refer me to the SSS. I emailed them, but it was already a bit too late. The afternoon was spent in nervewrecking tension, watching the status change from "vorgemerkt" to "in Bearbeitung" ... and finally to "angemeldet". So luckily I got in nevertheless. Yippie.
Now let's have some more Paris pictures, and then it's back to Hildebrandt and Fischer von Erlach.

Paris, Pt. 2: Monday night

Before it all starts we're already fatigued.


I'm unnaturally pink.


Even the cigarette is!


And then:
ZOMG! It's Neil Hannon!!







Eventually the jacket comes off. I dig the cardigan!


Things speed up - the duet with Vincent Delerm (Songs of Love) ...


What looks like a spectral body is indeed a heartshaped balloon!


Eventually the shades come off too.


Haha ...


And here we have Daphné ...


And it all ends rather abruptly with warnings for children on the metro ...


xxx

Paris, Pt. 1

(My exam today was cancelled, or rather postponed. It's in 2 weeks. The day has thus ended quite anticlimactically, and I feel like I'm suspended in the air and a bit deserted. But I'll just try to mobilise some more energy and start revising for the Romanticism exam on Tuesday.)

So here, as promised, is the first round of pictures from the Paris trip!

Paris, Pt. 1: Sleepwalking in the afternoon before the concert

Tired and strung out at 4 a.m. in front of my house:


At the train station by the Charles de Gaulle airport, sitting on cool Brit-pop-coloured chairs.


Sparrows fighting for our Viennoiserie:


A play or musical that was advertised on the metro:


Flâner au Marais:


There are hundreds of 2nd hand bookshops in Paris. It's a shame that I cannot really read french that well ...


Pictures on walls:


Rockerwoman on a bicycle:


Whenever you see a gothic building, you have to shout: "GOTIK!"


Windowshopping. Julia lusting for shoes.


Wonderful display:


There was a shop that sold exclusively these colourful paper bags:


... and a statuesque frenchman in tight breeches ...


... and a prime example of a "Zentralbau" ...


There was a shop that sold exclusively these little finger puppets:


I really don't agree with this.


Lisa is about to do something really irrational and ironic ...


and some architecture ...