October 2001 Archives
We kiss to shut him up and shut him out.
'How long has it been... ten?'
'Twelve. Twelve years,' I say. It seems like for ever. I watch him lift his champagne. I grip my beer.
// Salon and saloon... how appropriate //
The flute tilts towards me, we softly tap our glasses.
*ching*
We were seated in the Green Lizzard, a pub across the road from the Tivoli Theater. Full of rowdy young lads whose favourite passtime seems to be grabbing each other's arses and balls. All in a studly, manly beer drinking way, of course. If they could only see themselves.
My dad. (Fuji NeoPan Pro 1600)
Celebrating my dad's birthday, I told my parents and my dad's brother and wife about the week in Dublin knowing that my uncle and aunt (both novelists, songwriters, poets) would be interested in the theatre production.
Talking about Kurt Weill and Bertold Brecht, my dad and uncle burst into song - singing Mac the Knife and Cannon Song, in German - knowing all the damn lyrics, and parts of September Song, and other tunes.
'I love that guy,' said my uncle, talking about my father, 'which is fortunate, cause he's my brother.'
Walking through Jodenbreestraat a few days back, a gypsy trio (accordion, double bass, violin) were doing 'Mac the Knife'.
And so I walked along the Amstel River, smiling to myself, humming Kurt Weill tunes.
My mobile beeps. It's B., in London: 'The pub keeps playing Bowie's version of Moon of Alabama.'
We're haunted.
Just got this from a friend who works in the Irish PM\s office: There is an ambulance, fire brigade, army, Gardai and a decontamination
unit outside the Taoiseach's building right now!!
[ SPOILER ] Check this. Giles. Season 6. Epi 3, 'Flooded', he returns to Sunnydale. And the mark of Eygon is... gone!... We're meant to notice this. See how it's filmed in the dark, but he's in a t-shirt and there's just a bit of light on the arm where the tattoo was?
I just picked up my photos (the Canon ones) from the shop. Wow. Wow bloody wow. That's probably the highest success rate on pics per roll I've ever had in low light circumstances. I'd say 80%. That's unreal. Good camera/lenses and reading up on (concert ) photography has definitely paid off. Now I am extra pissed off the theater festival people wouldn't let me shoot the show properly (I wasn't allowed to take em, so I had to sort of sneak 'm from my seat). I only managed to shoot 2 colour and one b/w film. Haven't had the b/w developed yet, looking for a good place to have it done.
Oh you'll be wanting proof then?
A sweet kiss said forget me not
when love spoke I knew no wrong
but that was once upon a dream come true
a long time ago
.: i2DESIGN :. redesigned and added Sydney to the typecity project.
IHOF - International House of Fonts: free typewriter font.
Also: the Typesociety are launching 'Font Aid' II
stargazer seems to have enjoyed the shows as well. Heh. Fan. :P
Steeple chase! Walter passed me a baton. More tomorrow.
Save Harry! from the evils of Coca Cola. What a fab looking page. [ via Plasticbag ]
Here's a nice one: Anthony Stewart Head singing 'Every breath you take.' Get it? (mp3 1,9 mb)
one.point.zero - Blogging in Brussels, Belgium - Web design, Music, and more... I added Colin to the dropdown. Wondering why I hadn't before.
For love or money... that is the question.
After the floods comes the drought.
Have now seen epi 1 and 2 of Season Six of Buffy, and am downloading epi 3. Am concerned about the acting, it's a bit wooden and there doesn't seem much of a vibe going on. Also... I notice less music in the background, maybe that's just the compression of the mpegs and avi's.
I took off from Dublin airport at 4pm, some 30 to 45 minutes late, what seems to be the standard delay on European flights these days. I was tired, sweaty, and not at all pleased with my Belgian detour. I had flown from Charleroi the weekend before, and was obliged to return there - saving money in the process.
My dad just met someone who taught Dutch in my school, 25 years ago. He introduced himself and the guy said: 'You must be prol's father.' Apparently, I'd made a lasting impression. I remember him well. At the time he said he had problems grading my written work, because it was 'too good'. Remember, boys and girls, this was in Culemborg in the Netherlands. Land of the blind.
Never pack a gobshite, because wherever you go, there will always be one.
Meg rejoices: At a glance: ER - Series 2... I groan. I would love to have series 1 and 2 on video. However, my hotel bill will halve this month's salary, leaving the rest to pay my mortgage, and food. No more treats for prol for a long long time.
Why is copy written by so called 'communication specialists' invariably i-fucking-llegible and just plain WRONG?
Take me to the bridge.
Wildfeed for "Flooded" -- The Buffy Cross & Stake Spoiler Board... season six just sounds absolutely wonderful, and they're making the most of Giles's absence/return. Wonderful stuff.
Actual conversation last week:
'I woke up with blisters on my tongue!'
'That must be from licking...'
'... from licking J. She sweats... but don't tell her that!'
Agent H21 was innocent?
My two favourite singles at the moment: Kylie Minogue, I can't get you out of my head, and Elton John, I want love. With songs like this on the radio, I might start listening again.
'And there's no moon over Soho, there's no "can you feel my heart beating, pet", there's no "where you go that's where I go, honey" when your lover boy's gone and you're in the shit'
A colleague has discovered my on line presence through Charis's site. 'There's picture of you all over the web.' Hmm.
I'm looking desperately for a tennis partner in Amsterdam. I play good, hard tennis - but I don't mind 'teaching' beginners a bit either. I prefer playing against someone's who's really good. So, if you're up for a game against someone with a deafening backhand stroke, give us a shout.
I am *this* close to quitting the job and joining the circus. Not that I'll do it. But it's awfully tempting. From watcher to minder could be an easy step.
I took pictures. They're pwetty.
So then I actually got the chance to kick McGowan's arse (see also...), but I thought 'I'm not touching that'. He was begging for attention and sucking up, the sad old git. Also, I wasn't sure I could take on his girlfriend as well. God, the smell of him.
I just got back in Amsterdam from Dublin via Charleroi, Nivelles, Brussels, Roosendaal, Breda, Rotterdam... and it's 3.45 am. Thanks to the Belgian Railways. Fuckers. Can't they go on strike in their own time?
Last night was lovely. Taking up two tables at the front in the venue (all the angels coming together for the final show), we adorned them with a little Playmobil pirate, and a glittery star.
On invitation we attended the aftershow and end-of-week-post-traumatic-theatre-disorder-band-farewell-cum-belated-birthday-party, and were delightfully treated to an extra song, just himself and himself: 'Life is a cabaret, old chum'.
One of the best things this week was bringing an old friend who has heard me yak on an on and on about the merits of this particular artist, but had never seen 'm before. He left all starry eyed and mesmerised, and a bit shaken - having undergone the 'I am going to sing in your face at point-blank' treatment.
Why is it that we're sad before it's time to be sad?
Last night I defied house rules (the theatre festival seem to want to own everything, including images of this show... fuck em, I have a job to do) and tried out the new camera & lenses to photograph the show. I was happy with the speed of both lenses. Very fast focussing, even in such dark circumstances, and relatively quiet too. Shot two films furtively.
...course I'd already shot 140 digital pictures as well. *Evil snigger*.
There are net cafes on every streetcorner here in Dublin, and they are all packed with Chinese boys playing games. Day and night.
'Eat yer steak n finish yer plate, or Eileen will get ye.'
I feel slightly uneasy for having such an extraordinary time over here when the world is going insane. It's all very... in Germany, before the war. Kurt Weill might just be the perfect soundtrack to apocalyptic times.
Woohoo, being upgraded to the penthouse of my hotel.
Speechless.(well, not quite)
It appears coming back is the thing. Noah's done it too.
Interesting looking advertising/public announcement on planet.nl, hover over the yellow dot.
Tired. Emotional. All that jazz.
You could spend all day in internet cafes explaining to people where there 'yahoomail' or their 'hotmail' is, or finding their lost windows for them, or explaining they have to open a browser first, or type in a URL. Some woman next to me just asked me 'where's my mail?'. I wouldn't survive in tech support for one day.
Kristoff's back.
On a positive note, my RSI symptoms are almost completely gone.
Saturday morning. My heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest. Wonder if it's just the cigarettes. Yeah, been a bad bad girl. All those late nights, all that beer, all the friends and talk calls for a good old smoke. The new rule is: "I can smoke while I'm in Dublin.".
It's the little things that count.
I'd pre-order this book if my cards weren't maxed out.
While I'm playing the tourist, taking pictures around the Iveagh Market area, Engine Alley, Thomas Street, I have my mobile in my hand, sending text messages.
/ 'Hold back a little. It will still be good.' /
'Ich Liebe Dich' posters adorn the inner city walls along the downtrodden states. Burly men lead horses down back alleys. Aul' wans stop and talk. There's too much to capture, and my camera is shy.
It is October, but the sun is out all week. The country is kind to me.
/ Give yerself, and us, a breather. /
Down I walk, underneath St Patrick's. I am roasting in a t-shirt, sipping a cold fizzy Club orange in the Brazen Head to cool down.
And he says: 'I hope I hold out. Do u think it's worth d struggle?'
/ Oh yes. Yes. Always. /
"The geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury. Due north of the center we find the South End. This is not to be confused with South Boston which lies directly east from the South End. North of the South End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End." (from my shell account quote thingy)
Dublin, Iskander's, late last night:
He, big, immaculate bouncer: 'You can't come in, please move along.'
She, scrawny red haired northside bowsie: 'Ya fekkin' black bastard! Go back to where ye came from!'
We: (under our breath) '...delightful'.
I'd like to be away for ever. Fortunately, San630.com is coming back.
11.30 AM I travelled one and a half hours on the bus to Balbriggan. There, I found out it was Balgriffin I wanted to go to. A bus and a taxi later, around 3.30 pm I finally arrived at Fingal Cemetary, and talked to Bill Graham - told him all about his boys and what they're up to. I hope he was listening. It was a beautiful day.
Never doubt. Again. Beep, beep says the mobile. 'I'll make it up to you.' As the song goes... until the day it dies
LONELY TOWN
Weill / Langston Hughes
The night for me is not romantic;
Unhook the stars and take them down!
I'm lonely in this lonely house,
In this lonely town.
It's amazing what a bit of make up and the right pair of hip hugging slacks can do for a 42 year old man. And then the fishnets underneath. Gah. Can't wait to let my camera loose on that.
Do AOL users get a javascript error on line 0 on opening this page, and does it take ages to load?
Depeche Mode in Antwerp... never did think of how appropriate their 'songs of faith and devotion' were as a lead in to a week in Dublin. Glad I went. Proper report will follow.
A tender whisper of a lost love song... just one of the highlights of last night's performance in the Tivoli in Dublin. Things can only get better.
SPEAK LOW
Kurt Weill / Ogden Nash
Speak low when you speak, love
Our summer day withers away too soon, too soon
Speak low when you speak, love
Our moment is swift, like ships adrift, we're swept apart, too soon
Speak low, darling, speak low
Love is a spark, lost in the dark too soon, too soon
I feel wherever I go that tomorrow is near, tomorrow is here and always too soon
Time is so old and love so brief
Love is pure gold and time a thief
We're late, darling, we're late
The curtain descends, ev'rything ends too soon, too soon
I wait, darling, I wait
Will you speak low to me, speak love to me and soon
:: SHOWstudio - Pagan Poetry ::, a curvy Björk font. [ via L&S ]
... a friend had been telling me how bad the new Garbage single is. I told him I hadn't heard it. Well, I saw the band on TOTP tonight and it was quite a shock. The song I thought for weeks was a new Destiny's Child single, or something like that, was theirs. And that haircut? That's soooo 20 years ago.
Heather remembers.
Le Cadavre/Exquise/Boira/le Vin/Nouveau... anuther pwetty cawpse
Sinead O'Connor makes a welcome return to the stage with Paul Brady... which is nothing short of amazing, as the last time I saw them together, not a couple of months ago, they refused to share a dressing room and couldn't stand the sight of each other.
You're a nerd when you're upset because you can't switch over to the public release of Movable Type till after October 15 cause you're going on holiday.
Sweetness. I was a good girl and bought tickets to 3 of the 6 shows I'm going to see in Dublin. Just got confirmation for freebies for the other three, and a pick up from the airport. I feel so... VIP-ish. Heh.
Bless 'm.
NewsReaders.com: Macintosh newsreader utilities... I'd be interested in hearing tips for good Mac news clients and how to download binaries from usenet with success. Mac users out there?
Bloody hell, where have I been? Experiencing the joy of divx downloads for the first time after installing a few codecs. Watching Voyager's Endgame now and hoping to locate Buffy's season opener.
[ update... watching Enterprise Series V, 'Broken Bow' now and rather impressed. And this is only the first episode. ]
waredevil / human powered web update service: Jason Shellen's new business.
Sounds like a cool job, in a 'wish I'd thought of that' way.
If anyone can help me find an mp3 (or other audio/video file) of Kevin Spacey singing at the John Lennon Tribute, I'd be roolly grateful.
(update, I think I've found an mp3... hmm, he's MUCH better as a crooner, doing Sinatra)
web-goddess.co.uk: php help: goddessblog.. hey look, another blog tool on the way.
'Tell me,' he said inquisitively, 'what's RSI?'
Repetitive strain injury... it's just pain, you know, from sitting at the computer too much? But it's bad, I'm used to pain, but...
'Well, that's a bit sadistic, 'used to pain'? You're a sadist'
//that would be masochist, dear//
I'm not! I get migraines... I'm used to pain. I'm just saying this is worse. Women are used to pain anyway.
Oh and men aren't?
No. Women can take a lot more pain.
Oh well that's great. So men... men are just there to drink beer, get into fights with their mates and bring the money home?
//hey, you said it, not me//
Yeah, exactly... while we deal with life and bear your children!
Men... men, are capable of taking a lot of emotional pain.... and there's sensitive men too, you know!
//yes, I know you're sensitive dear, don't get all upset//
I just mean that women can take more pain. Not emotional pain. Physical pain.
Well... women can take sustained pain. If you punch a man, he'll get up. Hit a woman that way and she'll stay down. But sustained pain, yeah.
See, we agree!
*beat*
'So do you go for massages?'
Well, I see a physiotherapist, and I have to go swimming... which I hate.
'Swimming a great way to exercise...'
It's wet. I hate it... anyway, I'll be ok. I just have to stay away from computers for a while.
'Junkie... you're a junkie.'
Well, yes, I do tend to be a bit obsessive. You MAY have noticed.
'Heh. ... I am too... well, I'm getting better...'
*beat*
'... you'll have a week in Dublin soon, to relax. Don't bring a lap top, and don't go to any of these internet cafes!'
//but I HAVE to check my mail//
Hmmm... yeah, okay, I'll try.
'Ok then take it easy, and.... talk to you soon, eh?'
Yeah... take care, ok? Bye!
Happy Birthday, Lines & Splines.
Blogger seeks new home in the Bay Area.
Would the baroness at the back please shut up. The last thing we need is for the old bat to get involved.
Jack sent me this song by comedian Harry Hill... 'if only the whole world was Irish' (mp3 500kb)
TCN : The Celeb Network... spot a famous person, post to the site. In beta. The funny thing about this site is its look. It doesn't look like a gossip/celebrity site, doesn't look trashy, and I find that refreshing.
These clips are fab. Oh why don't I just start a Buffy blog of my own? (OH NO, NOT another blog!)
The Weblogger User Group... for the Silicon Valley girls and boys.
I suppose a ride is out of the question? Matt starts a new blog on bike riding.
You can't keep a good Slayer down... UPN launches the official site.
I wish I had access to a UPN wildfeed. (warning, big Buffy season 6 spoilers ahead... in fact, it's the entire 2 hour season premiere spelled out for ya)
Jam! The other day I wondered what the fuck happened to stand up comedian Eddie Izzard... and I figured he was probably trying to get his acting career together. Today I got an e-mail informing me 1. yes, he is concentrating on his acting career, but 2. he is planning a World Tour for 2003/2004. His last show 'Circle' should be released on video/dvd in Autumn 2002. So there.
They're also going to finally redesign his awful website. Let me guess, it will be a Flash monstrosity.
So. I told my job I wanted to go back in and start working again, cause I'm bored out of my skull and feel useless sitting at home watching vids, but they think I should get better properly first. Hmm. My work ethic is gnawing at me.
Someone complained about U2log.com being in the 'weblog' category at Nedstat. 'It's got nothing to do with a weblog', the mail said.
I'm sorry, but U2log.com is a weblog in the purest sense. It's a single subject news/link site that is updated daily by a team of editors. There's no personal drivel, such as here on prolific.org, and there's no linkwhoring. We link to news items, and provide commentary. EOD.
The Discovery Of Heaven is a new Dutch, but English spoken film with English actors (Stephen Fry, Greg Wise, etc). That's why they do the website in Dutch?
Tate Modern: Desire Unbound... do the (surreal) Love Quiz.
You have been unsuccessful in love and have responded by papering the walls of your home with an image of death disguised as a cute, fluffy lamb, stuck up with a glue constructed of spittle and cigarette ash. Your only hope lies in recognising the profoundly surrealist nature of your situation.
linklust.com goes live.
It's exactly a week till show time. What does one wish performers? 'Break a leg?' 'Toi Toi Toi' (in Dutch). Godspeed? Here's to band rehearsals. Here's to the vibe.
This will probably score high on Blogdex: BigMeats.net - Muppets in Mahna Mahna! [ via MF] The owner of the site suggest to look for the file on Kazaa as his college network is succumbing.
I just watched Anthony Head play a drunken middle aged lecher and murder suspect in 'Silent Witness'. It was quite disturbing.
Metafilter | MetaTalk detail: MF had 1.6 million page views last month. Gah!
My stepmother's employer has gone bust.
I listened to The Joshua Tree for the first time in what may be a decade.
I remember the first day I got it. I was travelling from Sasketoon, in Canada, back home and bought the album in a mall outside Toronto airport. I bought it on vinyl. And then I bought a tape to be able to listen to it on the flight.
I walked around the mall with my headphones on, getting lost in the music. After a while, I had to sit down, shopping was out of the question. The music demanded full attention.
It was the right album for the time, at the end of the 80s, that cold decade, the 'me' era.
The Joshua Tree was hot, and bothered. Not about 'me', more about 'us'. It said 'fuck you' to the 80s and embraced a future.
The other day we were talking about, what else, the 'current situation' and what the not so distant future may hold for us. Someone suggested September 11 was the real start of the 00's.
Listening to the Joshua Tree I can't help thinking that somewhere down the line there will be another such record. There has to be.
Midnight, our sons and daughters
Were cut down and taken from us
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat
In the wind we hear their laughter
In the rain we see their tears
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat
Night hangs like a prisoner
Stretched over black and blue
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat
In the trees our sons stand naked
Through the walls our daughters cry
See their tears in the rainfall
Fan fic is almost exclusively pornographic and mostly extremely badly written (very often, the age and inexperience of the writer shines brightly through the adult language). This one, however, is good. Unfortunately, 'Ruth', the writer, has only written one two-part Buffy fan fic: The Debriefing Series. Agape, Storge, Phileo, Eros.... (warning, B/G NC17 and extreme soppy romance)
From RTE's e-mail news: 13 people die on the (Irish) roads over the weekend.
Ireland has one of the highest death rates from road accidents in Europe. I remember feeling sick getting into the car with an Irishman with 6 pints on him. I argued and got 'How else am I gonna get back home' and 'I drive slowly' as a feeble, childish excuse. Coming from Holland where 'don't drink drive' is pumped into us, I just couldn't get my head around the country's drinking culture.
It's time for Ireland to grow up a bit. Relentless government campaigns definitely help.
Chief Superintendent Denis Fitzpatrick of the Garda Traffic Management Policy Bureau discusses the deaths .
I've just added a batch of songs to CROON.org. Now wouldn't it be something if all prolific/aftertheflood readers dug into their minds and wrote about that one song that makes them think of that one moment... Dutch readers, I'll happily translate from Dutch to English if you like.
Fooljay's building MyMeFiFilter... to keep an eye on threads at Metafilter.
Apparently, my 'Croon' site made it to the paper version of Entertainment Weekly... hence the surge in traffic. (Though not, unfortunately, in good submissions)
Eurotrash aesthete in the Sunday Times today. I wonder what the double entendre was. Knowing him it was probably something Kunst/cunt.
