Filibuster*

Inbetween permanent boyfriend returns, temperature fluctuations of roughly 20°C, writer’s block, social life and minor operations of the left hand, a girl hardly finds time and mind to update her blog. As is typical when a lot of time has elapsed since the last post, you can either tell everything in great detail (which none of the parties involved is keen on, I’m sure), or you can be very succinct. So I’ll be succinct and leave it to your imagination to fill the plotholes. A few photos might be helpful.

Happy Happy! Looking doppelgangerish and not too sophisticated. Also: Max has decided to try out a Robinson Crusoe sort of beard, for fun, and. It’s grown on him. Haha.

Breakfast at Lisa’s country seat. Lots of om nom inbetween horrid fits of hayfever! I’m in love with the summertime!

Last week, when the heatwave hit Austria, swallows and all, you could either not eat, or eat yoghurt and fruit. We chose the latter and we chose well. Grapefruit, nectarines, and strawberry. Colour, smell and taste. It’s like Flanders in the 1650ties.

*Filibuster is the word with the greatest etymology. It went through four or five languages before arriving in English.

Charlotte.

I’m quite charmed by Charlotte Gainsbourg’s new single and video.

Pro to the cra to the stee to the nizzle.

“I'm not entirely sure that I am telling this story the right way round. I have said that it is like a circle, approachable from any point. It is also, like a circle, unapproachable from any point.” Stephen Fry, Making History.

This sums up my thesis woe admirably. It’s all there, but it’s slick and unscalable. When I’m done pushing forlorn characters around on an empty page I go and bake, re-arrange files on my computer, download dozens of albums, read unrelated books and psych myself into a state. Hello, procrastination, it’s been a while!
Something will have to be done.

Mehrweg

In love with EVOL.

Query.

Honestly,
why does it feel as if
my heart is being crushed
in a bench vice?

Buildings.

But time is not given
and time is not taken
it just sifts through itself.



I find architecture, as a trope, extremely romantic.

When I find myself in times of trouble ...

When usually it's nothing
Surely you're happy
It should be this way?

I apologise for being a miserable fart on my birthday.
But if it suits so well ...

Everybody wants to be a cat.

Instead I run around the garden in unflattering flowery dresses, looking for where the time went.

I kinda want to live in a Lucksmiths song, these days.

New shoes.

I am now obviously a better person.

A certain amount of vapid dancing.

Firstly: http://www.vividotstore.com/
Vividot was brought to my attention by calivintage, and I’m quite in love with the lovely trinkets on offer there. Aren’t these ravishing? I am consumed by want.

Secondly: I may have found an epigraph for my diploma thesis. I’ve become rather obsessed with finding a perfect one, but it will be hard to encompass the entirety of my topic in one little quote. I am, however, at the moment quite fond a phrase from Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad, which is one of the books I'm writing about, that seems to sum up the gist of post-modern retellings of great canonized stories and their appeal pretty well, without being too much of a truism:

“There is indeed something delightful about being able to combine obedience and disobedience in the same act.”

I’m not sure though. I must think about it. And I must get back to work. There is a certain amount of vapid dancing going on.

Pink, green or sky blue?

Summer has hit Vienna and it is decked out in all the shallow prettiness it can muster. It’s time to wear summer dresses and take a camera for a walk to catch the city, time to eat ice cream on campus right before storming back into the library to find more books for the diploma thesis, or attend lectures about modern architecture. It’s time to get into life threatening situations involving bikes, tram rails and morning traffic and colour one’s knees the same colour as the sky - a shining blue.
Help yourself to some pictorial impressions:

I’m rather glad I don’t live in a city designed by Le Corbusier, for something tells me that there would be no room there for the mind-boggling quaintness of that shop near my flat that specialises - exclusively - in selling pigs in all forms imaginable. And I know my life would be much impoverished, if that shop weren’t there.

Bügelbrett sein. Nicht immer nett sein.

Today way Max’s final last day in Vienna. He’s kind of had three due to his repeatedly post-poned departure because of the Eyafjallajöküll-themed travel troubles that have shaken Europe in the course of last week. The situation made for a couple of precious extra days together, but also a quite agonizingly stretched out good-bye.

We spent the day making and eating Hendlpörkölt, and somewhere inbetween went to the Thomas Bernhard exhibition at the Theatermuseum.

This is us, there. We live here but we’re sightseers.

Now he’s gone to catch his train (to Frankfurt, then Paris, then Poitiers), I'm fighting the numb emptiness with music, while browsing through the photos taken during the last 3 weeks.
40 more days. Then good will be allowed to be called normal.
I wonder what that’s like, like.