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| Thursday, July 10th, 2003 | | 10:18 pm |
Il n'y a pas d'evenement. Il n'y en a jamais. C'est normal. On peut rien faire. Bon. Z'en ai marre du tele. Faut pas faire en francais. Ca me deprime (parcequ'il faut faire la moue). We should have a totally different language, but not an artificial one. Proto Indo-European!!! I don't think so. Finnish would be fun, though. Must learn Finnish. Etc. I like tigers and leopards and cheetahs and liony pionys. Or should that be liony pionies? Must reread AATL. Note - read some GBS again. I can see a cat pouncing on a moth. Going now. | | Wednesday, July 9th, 2003 | | 8:37 pm |
| | Thursday, May 8th, 2003 | | 8:43 am |
If I were a stone, I would be: a pebble If I were a tree, I would be: a cedar of lebanon If I were a bird, I would be: a condor If I were a machine, I would be: I don't want to be a machine. I'm already one. If I were a tool, I would be: a spanner If I were a flower/plant, I would be: witch hazel, the panacea If I were a kind of weather, I would be: stormy and windy and wet If I were a mythical creature, I would be: the Sphinx because she cursed a lot of people If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a harp If I were an animal, I would be: a leopard If I were a colour, I would be: that very clear and bright shade of blue that's indescribable If I were an emotion, I would be: desperation If I were a vegetable, I would be: a spud!! If I were a sound, I would be: bass and loud If I were an Element, I would be: fire If I were a car, I would be: That's a machine again If I were a song, I would be: "I Wonder" by Humble Pie or "Voodoo Chile", the long version, by Hendrix If I were to trade places with another person, it would be: Callimachus If I were a movie, I would be: "Clockwork Orange" If I were a food, I would be: something really disgusting like Brussels sprouts so that nobody could ever eat me If I were a place, I would be: Snowdonia If I were a material, I would be: satin If I were a taste, I would be: unpalatable If I were a scent, I would be: hyacinths If I were a religion, I would be: most upset If I were a word, I would be: "intrinsic" If I were an object, I would be: what I am now, I guess If I were a body part I would be: bereft without the rest of me If I were a facial expression I would be: perplexed If I were a subject in school I would be: miffed because they don't teach anything worth knowing If I were a cartoon character I would be: Spike from Tom & Jerry If I were a shape I would be a: circle. But it's not spikey enough. So I'd have to be a polygon. If I were a number I would be: 9 If I were a month I would be: September, but I wouldn't let anyone go back to school If I were a day of the week I would be: Sunday If I were a time of day I would be: about 2am If I were a planet I would be: 'appen I'd be Pluto because its existence is being questioned If I were a sea animal I would be: a mythical seahorse. If I were a direction I would be: West If I were a piece of furniture I would be: a whatnot If I were a sin I would be: sloth If I were a historical figure I would be: Cicero If I were a liquid I would be: mercury Current Mood: neutral | | Thursday, April 17th, 2003 | | 11:06 am |
aethetic concepts and entities
Maybe because I really dislike unaesthetic concepts and entities. Not that truth is always good and fine, nor even youth. I suppose it depends on your definition of truth. If it means "that which is pure and untainted by human crassness", then I would possibly go with Keats on this one. I think the nearest would have to be true Epicureanism, though. Not even as reported by Lucretius, because he didn't really have the language tools to express it. Greek concepts don't fit well into Latin verse (or prose). Even if Lucretius had written it in Greek, though, it wouldn't have worked, because De Rerum Natura is almost a cry for help from somebody who is attracted by the ideas but doesn't quite embrace them fundamentally. Still, a great piece of Latin, one of my favourite reads, and I'm very very fond of Lucretius because of his inability to be quite convinced. That's straying from the point, isn't it? It's much easier for me to express this one in negative terms: I don't like nastiness, crassness, violence, meanness, etc, etc. It makes everybody feel bad, perpetrators, victims and onlookers. I know humanity is capable of some great things, and I don't like to see it tainted by humanness. If you see what I mean. Of course, if I were Callimachus, I could do all of this in concise Greek and make it poetry. Oh, my Callimachus! | | 11:03 am |
Have you noticed how often life changes but doesn't change? | | Wednesday, April 16th, 2003 | | 10:10 am |
You know when you have so much to do you don't know where to start? And most of it is deadly boring anyway? It's time for a change. Shame it's not possible. | | Tuesday, April 15th, 2003 | | 8:05 pm |
I like transporter bridges. | | Sunday, April 13th, 2003 | | 5:18 pm |
The cruellest month. Why do we do this? To try to think to be to think to nada. I need to get back to reading Greek, miss it too much, and no time, no time, too many responsibilities to be able to abandon everything. So I'll plant courgettes. And learn Finnish. There must be worthwhile Finnish literature apart from the ancient stuff. With a language like that they must be able to produce idiosyncratic and original thought, don't you think? Me gustaria dedicarme a traducir libros - los que mas me gustan, por supuesto. No solamente esto, pero seria mejor que continuar asi. Me he olvidado de todo. Ademas, como leo en portugues actualmente, no puedo pensar en espanol. Je m'en vais promener le chien. | | Friday, April 11th, 2003 | | 9:39 pm |
Everytime you try to do something there's someone there to stop you. People always judge. Why? Here we are again, in the middle, in the middle, possibly at the end. Need to sleep | | 6:39 pm |
This is better. Post four quartets ecstasy. No, it doesn't work like that. No time to stand outside. But everybody should read book 18 of the Iliad. In Greek, because it doesn't translate adequately. It helps. Strange how the periodic sentences are replaced by staccato phrases because of inhibitions and customs. Thoughts of a dry brain... | | Thursday, April 10th, 2003 | | 8:33 pm |
There are no events. Just quotidiana. Surrounded by books, no time to read, still reading a jangada de pedra, which is super wonderful. Rossini is underrated. So is Andre Previn. Film crews in the house? Could the kid have fallen luckier? Alas and alack, I have to go to Coventry tomorrow. Not want to go. Want to read and read and read and listen to Rossini and Ravel and Stravinsky and Poulenc. Life is too pragmatic. Need to read Greek. Quit work and live a bit. Oh yes. It's possible, just impossible. A little selection. Selection. A dirty word. The absence of light, darkness visible. Need inspiration, but don't like people breathing on (or in) me. Need ecstasy, to stand outside and look in or out or nowhere. update, downdate, day. Has visto esto? Blackness. Have to go | | Tuesday, April 1st, 2003 | | 9:52 pm |
aeschylus
Because of the primitive rhythms and the force of the language. There was once a wonderful production of the Oresteia in Greek, and I showed it to the children I was teaching in a school with no real introduction, certainly not to the language. The children were nine and ten years old, and several of them chanted along with the chorus... Would never have predicted that, but it illustrates the force of the language and of the drama. And when I'm reading his stuff it makes me feel different. He's in a league of his own, so I'm not comparing. | | 9:34 pm |
Inspiration is lacking. Seems rather pointless when the sun shines and contradicts everything. It rained today, though, chucked it down, wet, wild, windy weather. Wonderful. Have things changed? Does anything ever change? There's decay... or progress if you prefer. There we are, conforming. Conform or leave. To human principles (paradox?). Work, for what? Money? Why? Bits of paper and metal. Fabuloso. Face painting and dressing up, dressing down. No, it's fine, no problem at all. It's all rooted in language, but we should have done better. I would like to propose a new world leader: Maya. Or possibly Cassie, because although she's not particularly bright, she's not destructive and vengeful either. Or failing that, if we must have a human being, I'm voting for Madeleine Bunting. Assuming we're allowed to vote. By the other human beans. Now is the time. Could read now, have time to read. Could finish reading Saramago. Now there's an interesting author. Never read a Portuguese author like that before. Sentence structure like Cicero! And a (very wry) sense of humour. Interesting too. The music continues in my head, don't know what it is, but there are flutes. Must write an appreciative email to Madeleine Bunting. Sure she has lots of fans... Oh, yes. One moment please. | | 9:28 pm |
| | Saturday, January 25th, 2003 | | 6:09 pm |
First movie you saw in the theatre: 101 Dalmations Fav movie as a kid: The sound of music Movie you have seen the most times: Probably the sound of music Biggest movie star crush as a kid: Gregory Peck Fav 80's teen movie: Can't think of any. Clueless for the nineties Fav song from a movie: That's what friends are for (Jungle Book) Fav love movie: Casablanca Fav horror movie: The beast with five fingers Fav Drama: The godfather; le samourai Fav Sci Fi movie: Star Trek IV - the voyage home; the day the earth stood still. Fav musical: Showboat; West Side story; South Pacific; the King and I; Cabaret Fav comedy: Some like it hot; the producers; Paper moon Fav action movie: True lies Movie that scared you as a child: The innocents; Psycho Movie that makes you cry every time you see it: ET Worst movie you ever saw: Ordinary people Movie you walked out on in the theatre cause it was so bad: I have never walked out on a movie. Most sexual movie you ever saw (NON PORN): Cabaret Most disturbing movie you ever saw: Kanal Movie that supposedly sucks but you love it: The king and I; Star Wars. Fav actors: Gregory Peck; Jack Lemmon Fav actresses: Diana Rigg; Ava Gardner; Lauren Bacall; Movie you wanted to see the most as a child but were not allowed to: Sexiest movie star of all time MALE: Alain Delon Sexiest movie star of all time FEMALE: Diana Rigg Movie that could/might as well been written about your life: Clockwork Orange Fave villain in a movie: Al Pacino (Godfather); Shere Khan (Jungle Book); Darth Vader; Last movie you saw on TV/rented? Star Trek - The undiscovered country. Last movie you saw in theatre: City Of God (Cidade De Deus), on Wednesday. | | Thursday, January 2nd, 2003 | | 10:46 am |
One of the great advantages of not knowing who your biological parents are is that you can invent. When I was very little, I thought that my parents must be tall, blond, blue-eyed and Swedish. That's despite the fact that my hair was black... So then I started thinking that I could have a great literary or philosophical figure somewhere in my past. Most of the truly great ones died before I was conceived, so I'm ruling them out. Answers on a postcard please... | | Wednesday, January 1st, 2003 | | 1:11 pm |
acerbic wit
Yes, I admire and enjoy acerbic wit. Incapable of it myself, way too old for that sort of thing now. But it amuses me, entertains me. As long as it's not nasty acerbic wit, because that's just uncomfortable. If Epicurus isn't on my list, he should be. I know Lucretius is, but really, that's quite different. | | 12:37 pm |
September 1, 1939 / January 1, 2003
Now, when he wrote it, it caused controversy. But it's very apt now, so it's worth quoting it in full. Bear with me, it's really worth it. September 1, 1939 (January 1, 2003) Wystan Hugh Auden I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-Second street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night. Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic god: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. Exiled Thucydides knew All that a speech can say About Democracy, And what dictators do, The elderly rubbish they talk To an apathetic grave; Analysed all in his book, The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming pain Mismanagement and grief: We must suffer them all again. Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an euphoric dream; Out of the mirror they stare, Imperialism's face And the international wrong. Faces along the bar Cling to their average day: The lights must never go out, The music must always play, All the conventions conspire To make this fort assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we are, Lost in a haunted wood, Children afraid of the night Who have never been happy or good. The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish. What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone. From the conservative dark Into the ethical life The dense commuters come, Repeating their morning vow; 'I will be true to the wife, I'll concentrate more on my work.' And helpless governors wake To resume their compulsory game: Who can refuse them now, Who can reach the deaf. Who can speak for the dumb? All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die. Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame. Obviously, we have to change certain bits, like the references to September and neutral and bars (because I'm not in one), but apart from that, it pretty much stands. Much better than it did when it was written. Poor old WH, much maligned. Mais il faut penser, quand meme. Gracias. Nada mas | | 12:37 pm |
September 1, 1939 / January 1, 2003
Now, when he wrote it, it caused controversy. But it's very apt now, so it's worth quoting it in full. Bear with me, it's really worth it. September 1, 1939 (January 1, 2003) Wystan Hugh Auden I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-Second street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night. Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic god: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. Exiled Thucydides knew All that a speech can say About Democracy, And what dictators do, The elderly rubbish they talk To an apathetic grave; Analysed all in his book, The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming pain Mismanagement and grief: We must suffer them all again. Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an euphoric dream; Out of the mirror they stare, Imperialism's face And the international wrong. Faces along the bar Cling to their average day: The lights must never go out, The music must always play, All the conventions conspire To make this fort assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we are, Lost in a haunted wood, Children afraid of the night Who have never been happy or good. The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish. What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone. From the conservative dark Into the ethical life The dense commuters come, Repeating their morning vow; 'I will be true to the wife, I'll concentrate more on my work.' And helpless governors wake To resume their compulsory game: Who can refuse them now, Who can reach the deaf. Who can speak for the dumb? All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die. Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame. Obviously, we have to change certain bits, like the references to September and neutral and bars (because I'm not in one), but apart from that, it pretty much stands. Much better than it did when it was written. Poor old WH, much maligned. Mais il faut penser, quand meme. Gracias. Nada mas | | Sunday, December 29th, 2002 | | 8:43 pm |
A clockwork orange
I was going to explain the list bit by bit, so here's the first one: a clockwork orange. The book or the film? Both. The book because of the celebration of language and the whole concept, the film for the cathartic effect it has. Don't think I want to see it again, though, it's too private, don't want to share. Bought another book by Burgess recently. Should read it soon. |
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