létavice

France is illogical...

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 13:01:50 GMT

The Enlightenment: L'age des Lumières. France: Rousseau, Montesquieu, Voltaire. The power of reason and rational thought process, the triumph of knowledge and intellectual progress over traditional religious imperatives.

France is referred to as one of the founding pillars of the Enlightenment era: logic reigned supreme. Key word being reigned.

Yesterday's post was a first example of how logic has been literally thrown out the proverbial fenêtre in France. I gots anuvva one for youse. Behold, illogicality (trust me, the word exists), French style.

There's currently an ad for this month's Elle France magazine being displayed in the metro. On the left hand of the cover, the following is proudly stated:

50 ways to look beautiful and feel comfortable at any age.

On the RIGHT hand side of the cover, merely centimetres away from the first statement, is plastered the following:

110 ways to look and feel younger.

Uhm. What??

France sucks.

(France's redeeming quality: the President just married a chick he's known for 11 weeks. Yeehah! Love it.)

Back on the Box

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 09:26:35 GMT

So, on my way home from school yesterday, I walked past a shop window in which was displayed a fluoro-vomit-coloured handbag with chunky-gold-chain straps, advertised as the "Cheap&Chic" handbag.

Intriguing, I thought, I do like a bit of Cheap&Chic myself...

I looked at the price. The bag costs €564.

I laughed.

That's loiiike, AUD$1000.

I do believe that's referred to as false advertising, TIMES TWO. No cheap, No chic.

[Sorry Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote, but I've been über busy getting top marks in public philosophy and falling in love with Argentina. You know how it is. More regular posts from now on, chaps!! Pwomiss.]

xx

I planted a Tree.

Tue, 13 Nov 2007 11:32:27 GMT

Look at how she grows...

BEFORE

und AFTER

Clocking it Up

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 12:13:00 GMT

"Time doesn't click on and on at the stroke. It comes and goes in waves and folds like water; it flutters and sifts like dust, rises, billows, falls back on itself. When a wave breaks the water is not moving. The swell has travelled great distances but only the energy is moving, not the water. Perhaps time moves through us and not us through it. [...] The past is in us, not behind us. Things are never over." Tim Winton, Aquifer

Lovely. Lovely Lovely.

Horse Piddle

Sun, 14 Oct 2007 19:10:34 GMT

I got to spend nearly 5 hours in the Emergency ward of the Hopital Cochin on Thursday night. And as Damien so rightly pointed out to both myself and Aye Aye, as I lay on my disinfected death bed: "Cochin sounds like Cochon. Which means Pig".

I was there from 11pm till 3:30am, yessiree Bob, that's where you would have found me had you been looking for me at that time, oh yes indeed you would have.

I was tested and poked and prodded, and had stuff poured into me and stuff sucked out of me, and I even got a spinal tap!

And you wanna know the best part? It was all FREE! LOVELY LOVELY FREE! Courtesy of the French-State-That-Can't-Afford-It-Anymore.

Also a positive piece of information you might find interesting: I'm not dying of anything really horrible.

I always was fairly good at making light of unpleasant situations. But believe you me: Spinal taps...not fun.

How to be Appropriate

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 09:59:07 GMT

This morning I woke up, and then Damien and I put matboard and a photo inside an 80x100 frame, kneeling on my bed with a kitchen knife and a 20€ Vodafone recharge card.

We also talked about some life stuff, I pressed my face against the covers on a few occasions. It made me feel like I was more in control, or sumfink like that.

It's important to make sure you've got it together, isn't it? It's important not to put parts of your life on hold, and to really try and live through and for all aspects of the "journey", isn't it??

But I'm really not very good at that kind of shite, and this makes me feel inferior, makes me feel bad. And yet, strangely enough, I'm so against normative terms like good and bad. And this contradiction/hypocrisy makes me feel, uhm...bad.

Excess and Obsession and Social Inappropriateness and Excessive Obsessive Inappropriate emotion are bad, eh?

I've been informed that it's good to be stable and well-rounded and complete and to understand things like direction and balance and "personality construction". And to be open and receptive and tolerant and aware and successful and upwardly mobile and enthousiastic and appropriate and welcoming and to have hobbies and to be active and to love in a normal and balanced manner and to communicate and maintain relationships and to look after yourself and to not cause damage and to not want to give yourself entirely away and to be honest and upfront and to not listen to the same music over and over again.

So, frankly, it's a bit of shame a bit of pity a bit of a shame that my own personal internal computer says "No" to all of those good things. And says yes to the bad.

On the other hand, things are good. School has started and I like it and we live in a nice apartment and it's sunny today. Bright side, maybe? Yes Yes!

!!!

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 06:56:36 GMT

My sister forwarded me this, and gee-whizz did I get a good 20 minutes of giggle time from it.

Call me what you will, these are the sort of things that make my day.

I'll resurrect myself, one of these days, I will.

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 21:41:34 GMT

ach soooooo. hello from paris!

because THAT is where I live now folks, yes it is indeed, and by gum it's a strange old feeling.

partly familiar, partly new.

always expensive.
particularly parisian.

let's recap: I buy a baguette in the mornings and walk with it tucked under my left arm; I blast through those metro turnstiles with intent and purpose, leaving scared and struggling tourists in my wake; I pierce my outer ears with those tell-tale white calling cards; I stare (grumpily) out the window, or blankly at other travellers and get up (almost) subconsciously at my stop; I stride, I don't stroll; I have a swish phone; I wear a little blue velour second-hand vest.

what does that make me?

It's been a week and I've evidently settled in more quickly than I had planned, and would have liked. oh well, la vie continue, žeho?

{sometimes looking at old photos, or more specifically, photos of the recent past, can be a kick in the teeth. yesterday I was sifting through snaps from praha, trying to choose ones to print and adorn the walls of our new abode, and the experience was more equivalent to 1000 Kicks in the Kidneys / similarly-soft-and-vital-organ.}

perhaps it wouldn't be particularly wise to have them on display 24/7, unless someone's willing to offer up their entire being for donation should I so require. any takers?}

but it's been a "welcome home" en douceur {a sweet one}, or as much as it was ever going to be. there have been smiling faces and open arms and eager ears awaiting me in both vienna and paris, of which I am deeply grateful. the weather has been pleasant, the parisians have been alright, and despite one incident involving me and a fist and a counter at the bank (followed by my surreptitious hawking up of saliva outside the doors of said bank at 1am, to let them know my disgust), my administrative rehabilitation has been smooth.

I have also made 2 visits to Ikea, and this is enough to undo any amount of banking bullshit. such innovation! so scandinavian! they just think of everything, them Swedes they do...to the point where it becomes almost scary. but ooh I like it.

{lordy-me, do I miss Prague or what}

sorry for the delay.
x
Me.In.Paris.

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 04:17:51 GMT

Time really is like sand. You always think you have too bloody much of the stuff (especially in your undies), and that it will never run out, until you try and grab onto a bunch of it with your hands and it all slips straight through your fingers.

I'm not feeling very good.

Maybe one day I'll get back to posting proppah entries on this blog, like. Maybe so. Maybe I'll just start posting snippets of crap poetry. Maybe not.

But right now, I'm not feeling good. So that sorta interesting stuff will just have to wait.

Do I sound like an ungrateful, whingey, whiney brat? Probably. But thems the breaks, kiddies.

I'm sad. And nostalgia seems to be eating me from the inside.

Baywatch, Czech style

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 14:42:39 GMT

I was pretty impressed this morning when I noticed that the one life guard on duty at the big swimming complex here in Prague was patently fast asleep. In plain view for all to see, at 11 in the morning.

These are the kind of things that will make it so damn hard to leave this country. And I'm serious when I say that.

BANG! 9, automatic...

Tue, 22 May 2007 11:35:23 GMT

There is a strong possibility that I may in fact explode. Actually explode.

Were this to occur, please know that I quite liked you all.

(P.S. I bet you guys are really enjoying my blog at the moment, eh? Eh? It's all melancoly/agression/nostalgia/stress...just what everyone wants to get a hit of in www format, and don't I know it! I'm here to serve the people!)

Wed, 09 May 2007 20:51:06 GMT

WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE GIVE ME SOME MONEY, DAMNIT???!

I promise I'll spend it wisely. Promise.

Tue, 01 May 2007 19:10:02 GMT

It’ll be OK, said she
A fork stabbed into the apple ahead.
Passive aggressivity is symptomatic, said he
For sure. Of something.

It’s windy today, and the gusts
Gust away the steamy dream.
And if you really look closely close,
You might see where the skin suffered

Its first puncture wound. For sure.

Or something.

P is for Politics

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 15:37:39 GMT

P.S.

ThomasFromScotland and I ran around in circles at the Czech Senate on Monday night.

And VincentFromGermany had a taste of every single thing that the buffet had to offer.

It was one of those "When is this ever going to happen to us again? Running and eating MUST be accomplished, lest we regret it forever" kind of nights.

You know, one of those nights...

until the end of lunchtime

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 15:23:57 GMT

Some discoveries are purely and simply the Goods.

This one, for example.

Danger Danger! Pozor!

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 07:58:43 GMT

Now I wouldn't want anyone to go drawing any unnecessary conclusions to what I'm about to say (save them for yourselves kiddies), but sometimes The Universe sends you a surefire sign that you're just slightly perturbed about something, and really not concentrating quite as much as you should be, mate.

=> Today, whilst drying my hair with an electrically powered hairdryer in my right hand, I turned the tap on and stuck my left hand under the flow of water to clean the sink at the same time.

[insert insulting expletives here, GO!]

Granted, it took me all of .003786 second to realise that this action was probably not my finest, nor most rational, and to turn off the tap. But still. Il faut que je me reprenne. A sharp whack up the side of the head with a not-quite-ripe banana should do the trick.

Especially since I really hate banana.

Blah Blah Whatever

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 14:17:53 GMT

You wanna know what's supremely infuriating? Being subject to both nostalgia for things already lost, and nostalgia for those things you still have, but know you can't hold onto.

It's like not having any cake, and not eating it either. A double whammy. It's unfair and it sucks.

(Ooh, now isn't that moody and wanky-intellectual?)

On Počasi

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 13:04:40 GMT

On the TV5 Météo website, which I check religiously in order to prepare myself for the worst/best, it says that today in the world the maximum temperature is 60℃in a place called Sabine Pass in Texas, USA, and that the minimum temperature is -39℃ at the charmingly named Deadhorse Airport in, funnily enough, Deadhorse, USA.

Now, I don't know about you, but when reading this I had 2 immediate reactions.

*1, was that I highly doubt that it is 60℃ in Sabine Pass. Ok, it's Texas, and Texas is a haaawt kinda place, but it's also winter. Winter, people. Also, the nearest city to Sabine Pass, a place called Port Arthur, is experiencing 20℃ today and I do find it slightly difficult to believe that there is a 40℃ difference within a 24km distance ...TV5 are obviously big fat liars.

*2, was that it comes of no suprise to me that a place called Deadhorse is treated to the lowest temperature in the world today. They deserve it. No one calls a place Deadhorse and gets away with it. The Gods are bound to get angry one day.

EDIT! I was just having a look at some info on Deadhorse, everyone's favourite Alaskan town, and was gobsmacked to see that the longest night on record was 54 days, 22 hours and 51 minutes, and that people actually live in this woeful excuse for a place. WHY? (Ok, I'll admit that the population is actually only estimated at 26, and the number of families is limited to 2...but still, that's 26 more than there should be.)

Changement! Uh, I mean...Lyrics!

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 13:20:20 GMT

I certainly think that most people would like me more had I been the author of these lyrics:

I know by now
that no-one cheers up when told to.
That it's more the arms that hold you
than whatever words are said.
Of course I know,
but you can't blame me for trying.
I could hardly hear you crying
for the traffic overhead.

I'd generally just be a better person, really.

Alas, 'twas not to be. That honour goes to The Lucksmiths.

And NO, this post was not simply an excuse to point out the fact that I have a new blog background-thingy majiggy.

But now that you mention it, I do have a new blog background-thingy majiggy.

Did you notice? Do you loooiiiike it?

So I went to see this, like, movie...

Thu, 08 Mar 2007 20:25:20 GMT

Last night Mathieu, Léna and I went to see Buddha's Lost Children as part of the One World Documentary Film Festival, which is currently taking place in Prague. It's been all the rage around this neck of the woods, and well might it be, as it's been a real sock-rocking festival. I've loved it.

The film was truly excellent.

I had heard brilliant reviews from various sources, but was somewhat skeptical at the idea of such a huge, blockbuster-esque doco film about an easily ruined subject that I felt strangely protective of.

In an offensively small nutshell, it's the result of a Dutch documentary film director's year spent in the mountains of Thailand, near the Burmese border, following a travelling boxer-turned-monk and his young protegés on their travels. And by golly me, is it a fantastic result.

Aside from the mindblowing aesthetic success of the film, what resonated most with me was the sensitivity with which the children were treated by the camera. There was an overwhelming warmth in the approach taken by the director, and whilst I doubt it would be possible to portray these amazing children in a negative light, so much care was taken to highlight the humanity that lives inside them (and indeed within all of us), and that is gradually drawn out by their Buddhist training, to the point that these little people seem to ooze human warmth from every pore.

I was also struck by the importance and style of physical contact used within the community, a type of contact which so obviously was merely an extension of the heart and soul...your body is used as a mere tool for the expression of human sentiment. There was both spontaneity and purity in the gestures and body language, with hands and fingers used to complement words, and at times even to replace them. A total lack of any form of restraint, social convention or limitation, all of which are replaced by an obvious will to communicate with those around through touch, in the purest of senses. There was an honesty in their form of touch that I truly yearn for in Western social environment. Truly.

What's more, the film further strengthened my belief in the idea that spontaneous, liberated and soulful physical contact is one of the most fundamental human instincts, so inherently and naturally human, that I came out feeling all the more revolted with the lack of it around me.

(Oh, the repression, the sad sad repression.)

All I saw was a couple timidly brushing shoulders, a group of guys walking with their hands stuffed awkwardly into their pockets and a girl with her arms folded tightly across the back she had strung over her chest (fear of pickpockets? fear of judgment?). It's all bloody convention, damnit.

For your viewing pleasure, and just to further infuriate you if you aren't able to see this film wherever you may be, here's the trailer. IMPORTANT! Please ensure you ignore the dickhead doing the voiceover, lest you vomit on your keyboard. I hear carrot is hard to extract from in between the keys...enjoy!

Also, on a totally unrelated note: As far as names for household cleaning products go, I'd have to say that "Cilit Bang!" is pretty much a winner. Although I do find it has a slightly offensive ring to it...and don't tell me I'm the only one! Offensive sounding tile cleaner, we say Yes!

I'm aware that there's something wrong with me.

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 18:17:25 GMT

Most people who know me, when questioned, would say that my wardrobe consists mainly of green clothes. I won't deny it, it's true. Recently, a friend told me that he thought of me when walking past a shop that had green clothes in the window. You get the drift, I'm a green freak. It brings out the colour in my eyes.

Now this would be all fine and dandy, but it's not just green clothes that I consider superior, and towards which I inevitably drift in shops. Oh no no no! Mais Non!

'Twould be too simple.

I also prefer green bags to any other colour bags. I prefer green jewellery, and collect it ferociously. I adore green lollies, and 9 times out of 10 I'll buy apple flavoured, or pear flavoured, or watermelon flavoured (why are they green when a watermelon is 99% red??) lollies/mints when confronted with a choice. I even pick the green lime Starbursts out of the packs when offered. I prefer green politics, I'm heading into green studies, in order to work in the green sector later on.

I love green food, however gross that may sound, but I do. And that's why, when I was informed that I should lower my iron intake levels because of a DISEASE, I realised I wouldn't be able to eat spinach any more (given that I would find it hard to get my meat consumption any lower than the NIL/vegetarian level it's already at)...

It was a sad day for my stomach, and yet a positive step on the road to recovery from my green obsession.

P.S. My blogging has been prolific recently, but to what avail I ask myself?

Yes! That's 1 for the people!

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 15:40:46 GMT

Oh, sweet sweet justice, how I love your face.

=> I teach French on Pařižska ul. in Prague, the fanciest, most ridiculously up-market excuse for a street you could imagine: think Chanel, D&G and Overpriced Italian Icecream, and you're there. Today, on my way to work, I passed a group of burly tree-fellers, doing their tree-felling thing. The tree they were hacking at was right above a huge, black, shiny new Hummer.

A recipe for disaster, you say? If by disaster you mean "Victory!", then yes!

I had passed the car by only 10 steps or so, when I heard an almighty SMASH.

"FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!!!!" said my brain as I turned around, to be greeted by the glorious sight of the Hummer's bonnet badly dented by a rather large branch.

Your car ain't so shiny any more, now is it Mr. I'm a Rich Tool With No Social or Environmental Conscience?? Hmm??! Is it??!

Wow. It was just too good. Too sweet! When I looked up into the "offending" cherry picker, I do believe I noticed a suppressed smile at the corners of the bloke's mouth, as he expressed the following: "Whoopsies!"...But maybe I'm just letting my imagination get the better of me.

Mango Mango!

Thu, 22 Feb 2007 14:12:45 GMT

Without wishing to alarm anyone, it has come to my attention that I ate well over 20 mangoes during the 4 weeks I was in Australia. It's true.

At least 20, and for once that's not a ridiculous exaggeration. (Why, oh Why, does the story of "The boy who cried wolf" come flashing before my eyes?? Make it go away!)

I am Beta-Carotene personified.

Or, to be more precise, I am Vitamin A personified, as once the Beta-Carotene enters the system, the body works hard to transf...alright, you don't care. I can tell from that "glazed over" look in your eyes, there's no need to pretend with me Little Jimmy. I didn't come down in the last shower you know.

Punk Kids.

MANGO!

P.S.

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 16:34:46 GMT

I have one worrying thing to say:

=> Today, whilst eating my lunch, I was watching a Czech kids' gameshow, and was horrified to hear that when the contestants were asked who was the Australian head of state, ALL OF THEM answered the American president. Now I'm not one to read too much into things, but I do believe that is a sign of Australia's imminent downfall and the demise of our entire population, to be quite frank and entirely realistic. It's all-over-red-rover for Australian independence and our own kulcha when 4 Czech kids start to ~~know~~ think that Bush has overall control, that's for sure. Ho, Hum.

I have one exciting thing to say:

=> I am no longer translucent! That's right, you can no longer see through my skin to observe the workings of my inner organs, which was the result of a Central European winter (or as my Mum would call it, "a Prague tan"), and instead I am sporting an attractive and fashionably light glow thanks to a month of very little ozone protection. I vote for Vitamin D as Nature's Drug of the Week. Who's with me? Although I would also like to stress the fact that a skin cancer is clearly not a fashion accessory. No No Kids, No It Isn't. Remember that.

Sun, 18 Feb 2007 09:39:26 GMT

So my revered listeners, here I am back in Prague. Maybe some of you never even knew I left, but I did...and where did I go? To Australia. Which was fun, and where there was a tonne of sun, and is a place that I increasingly rate as number one. Tun, Tun.

And I bought a new camera, so you're all going to indulge me in a few training snaps of things here-there-and-everywhere, aren't you now? Here they are! Hurrah! Bazaar! Ta Dah!

playing with depth of field at the prom: shoes

playing with depth of field at the prom: Zach and bag

aggressive signage, attractive shadow play

playing with the roof at Frankfurt International Airport

playing with the roof and people and signs at Frankfurt International Airport

taking a stroll up behind the castle

this man is hailed as a hero for his contributions to the Soviet Army...which is of dubious taste*

green starred communist hotel, yes siree ~~Stalin~~, I mean Bob!

* at least that's what Adam and I managed to gather from what it said in Czech on the plaque, which contained a few words that we struggled with...but there are some things you just can't muck up, like "sovietskeho" for "soviet". Don't let this piece of information fool you though, we are actually quite good at Czech. Impressively good, in fact. People tend to faint as we utter the slightest of perfectly declined and conjugated sentences, with perfect accents and just a faint glimmer in the eye. Yup.