Archive | February, 2012

Spirit

29 Feb

Redbull owned North American B-25 Mitchell flying over Budapest in the opening of the “Redbull Air Race”

Back in the day, you had to go to war in order to snatch one of these.

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Street creatures

29 Feb

street snowman by ellevaouelleveut

 
The stuff you find roaming around Sibiu. :))

Poetry and John Updike

28 Feb

        I’ll admit, I was never much into poetry. Something inside me always scoffed at the precious style of some poets. But, you know, I think part of growing up is realizing that by being prejudiced you’re missing out on a lot of really cool things. Like this poem below. I tried reading The Centaur a couple of years ago but found it dreary for some reason. Maybe I’ll give it another try in the light of this unexpected discovery.

 

Half Moon, Small Cloud
by John Updike

Caught out in daylight, a rabbit’s
transparent pallor, the moon
is paired with a cloud of equal weight:
the heavenly congruence startles.

For what is the moon, that it haunts us,
this impudent companion immigrated
from the system’s less fortunate margins,
the realm of dust collected in orbs?

We grow up as children with it, a nursemaid
of a bonneted sort, round-faced and kind,
not burning too close like parents, or too far
to spare even a glance, like movie stars.

No star but in the zodiac of stars,
a stranger there, too big, it begs for love
(the man in it) and yet is diaphanous,
its thereness as mysterious as ours.

“Typophile Film Festival” – Opening Titles

28 Feb

Wake up, enjoy the slightly out of  focus image, take a deep breath  and dip your fingers into the toothpaste (careful with your eyes though). Now sit down and eat your inspiration veggies.

Week 12: Tales from a phone box

27 Feb

It took me a while to get used to bizarre notions such as yesterday, next week, or last year. In fact, it took me a while to get used to the notion of somewhat taking a while in the first place. I’m not so sure you understand what I mean, or rather (from your perspective), what I meant, as I am, (in your case, was) writing this. So I will do my best to clarify. Of course, chances are that by the time I will have done my best, you may not have started reading this yet. So, let’s get to it. By that I mean that I have already gotten to it, and that you alone will be getting to it at some point in the future. So if I say “let’s” it’s just because I’m being polite. Or rather was. OK. Sorry, I’m just screwing with you. Time travelers love that, metaphorically speaking. Sorry, I can’t help it. For didactical purposes alone, just so you (will) know, by the time you will be reading this, you will have already been screwed with and the metaphor will have already been spoken. I know, I know, this is overkill. You got the point. Or you will get it.

OK. So. Time travel. Isn’t. At least not in the way you imagine it. That’s why from now on I shall refer to what you call time travelers as “time beings.”

If there is one thing some story tellers got right about us, that is that we exist at any and all moments in time. We just are, no matter when.  Simply put, we can’t travel through time. No more than you can travel through your own body. If you think of this and feel like your head’s going to explode, rest assured, it could be worse. If you’d live where (or should I say when) time beings live, your head exploding would be a mash-up of events, all melded together.

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