Shivering and looking into the midst of the city, covered with night mist, with lights picking through attracting some late bachelors or some strange balcony viewers, I see myself as someone loving and seeing the dark, that mysterious night that covers and yet reveals all the secret thoughts, the thoughts you would hesitate to share; the dark that lets you be yourself, the one you never have had a chance to be, or rather the one you are and yet you wouldn’t allow yourself be when you are around of so many other strange and yet attracting souls… I thank you night, for loving me every time I come and speak to you, for bearing with all my pleads, complaints and hopes, for shining down on me with your moonlight when I am trying to find the right path… I thank you for loving me when you don’t even realise you do, for you being abscessed with me yet blushing star light when touching my hand, for rare dates, for us being fun and absurd sometimes… I walk into your life asking autumn where is what I am looking for and yet only to get a rainy answer… I walk into your life asking winter if my house is warm enough and yet only to get snowflakes around my porch… I come back to you in spring wondering if I should be seeking soul comforting weather only to find that you are there to comfort whatever happens promising to be with me… You taught me that I should praise you whatever you are, that I should praise and accept sleepless nights as path to seeing what many don’t…

За несколько дней до выхода на прилавки переиздания всех альбомов The Beatles зарубежные музыкальные критики опубликовали восторженные воспоминания о временах, когда девочки визжали при виде битлов, а мальчики старались быть похожими на кого-то из участников ливерпульской четверки. Судя по уровню спроса на обновленные версии пластинок The Beatles, в ближайшем будущем в мире начнется нечто похожее.
далее

А ещё нужно смотреть сайт The Beatles!

The mistakes we make, I think of them a lot, I think what mistakes I made, I think of those who I think made mistakes, I think of those who think others or I made mistakes, I think of those who admit they made mistakes and worry about those who think they made mistakes… I’d go on thinking of all these until I come to the most crucial question – what do I think should be taken for a mistake. Try it yourself. You’ll be unpleasantly surprised that all your nature rebels against the concept of what you and those around you believed mistake is. Rebellious your nature can be, but you’ll do everything to return to ‘commonly’ accepted definition of a mistake. You think you simply know what’s right and what’s wrong, so does share your opinion the cattle around you. And so what happens is that you simply want to stay in your manure flat cake as long as it’s warm and fresh until you relocate to a fresher one, and some solid ground just a stretch away is Martian surface – attractive, and yet forbidden and should be talked of as science fiction few believe in. Let’s admit it – we’ve never been to Mars and yet we know it exists. To hell with Mars, let’s take something closer – we’ve (most of us) never been to the South Pole, and yet we are dead sure it exists and melts down. And if we admit that, what’s so difficult with admitting that mistake as you think of them are really… not mistakes at all, and rather acts many of us do subconsciously and quite a few intentionally. And if this sinks in, all we have to admit is that all, and I mean all, do commit these sort of acts. And here you go – you are at homestretch, crossing finishing tape and realising mistakes your ‘friends’ told you have made are actually mere attempts to explore, to break the circle, to be able to tell Heaven from Hell, blue sky from pain, a green field from a cold steel rail, a smile from a veil, and you won’t let them get you to trade your heroes for ghosts, hot air for a cool breeze, cold comfort for change, exchange a walk on part in the war, for a lead role in a cage…

Увы, с этим сложно спорить, хотя у наших туристов много сильных "конкурентов".

Российские туристы признаны худшими по итогам завершающегося сезона отпусков и каникул... Респонденты жаловались на "ужасный вкус" россиян в одежде ("тренировочные костюмы и золотые побрякушки" делают их похожими на "быдло"), на их "кошмарные манеры за столом" (они не только съедают за обедом "почти все", но и "запасаются жратвой", вынося еду из ресторана) и, самое ужасное, привычку на ночь забирать шезлонги к себе в номер...
здесь

И ещё кое-что для российских туристов

В десятку стран по числу происшествий с россиянами за 3,5 года также вошли Таиланд, Индия, Китай, Польша, Болгария, Израиль, Вьетнам и Италия. По числу россиян, погибших и раненых во время турпоездок, первая десятка стран выглядит так: Египет, Украина, Израиль, Польша, Индия, Вьетнам, Монголия, Таиланд, Китай и Италия.
и здесь

A glass of brandy, cigarette, nice music pouring out of earphones, calm and peace surrounding alight room where TV is showing silent pictures, clock counting out hours of one’s sleep, ashtray slowly filling up while a glass is becoming emptier – an idyll picture you would see when one is contemplating if what happens and evolves around is what he and others expect to happen and evolve… No recognition he would expect for giving his opinion, nor would he give his opinion on matters around that yet continue happening and evolve… He would be plunged in his thoughts of happenings and evolvent inside him, something he’d decided to give more time and thought to, something he thinks he was avoiding for so long and yet missing and aspiring to. He sits crooked on his sofa, fidgeting from time to time when his legs get sore or a flash on TV screen destructs his attention or he decides to pour a drink or light another cigarette. He would yet then go back to his musing, maybe sparked by a lively rhythm of an old band he recently started to like, or simply realising that time at that his moment has no longer any value because the moments he spends he spends as one would expect to spend should he happen to be in that room where a brandy glass is becoming emptier while ashtray is filling up, and where the ticking clock is exerting to say how little time is left, and where TV with all its imperturbability continues showing silent flash pictures when now favourite band pours out of earphones… It’s just happening.

(шикарнейше, я плакал!)

Правила дорожного движения на старославянском языке

Кто ползумши вяло во левой колее, во мобилу глаголяши, на всяко ближнегоглубоко положимши, тот есмь изверзждень блудливый и надобно е санямибульдозерными потолкати, да в канаву голимую бросати. Пущай в той канавеи глаголит, бес окаянный.

Якоже кто на парковище супротив сваго места стоямши или два местазанимамши яко дщерь беловолосая неразумная, по тому надобно каткомпроехати, да во лепешку раскатати, дабы мало места занимати буде.

Аще кто ины полозья подрезамши, тому всяко зверско глумление учинити, накол сажати, на кострище сжигати, полозья вставляти, четвертовати, рылонекошерно разукраси. Аще и се не споможе, то слово оному срамное изречи,животиной рогатой обозвати и перст серединный показати.

Аще кто зело близко позади подъезжаючи, мигалом мигамши, да в гуделогудемши, бо невтерпеж ины же крутымя возомнимши, тот суть блуденьдиавольски и того с седалища стаскивати, ногами побивати, да мигало згуделом во срам затолкати. Пущай оно там и гудити.

Кто зимою сугробы з полозьев не расчищамши, якодже оне грохнути наполозья позадние глыбою оледенелой, того самого во сугробе обваляти, вопроруби окунути, к полозьям стропами привязати, да катати лихо подеревням и селам, пока стыд оного не застудити.

Кто во полозьях едя, из колеи во колею мотаючи, да тормозимши, заторищезело множественное сотворяючи, тому каменьем трипудовым во оконцезапустити, да на челе слово лихое гвоздищем остроконцым нацарапати,старому на посрамление да малому во лепость.

Аще дщерь умом скудная в полозьях еде, уста малюючи, очи штукатуриши,беленья мазамши, то надобно дщерь оную за космы черны оттаскати, загруди белы доброродны похватати, да в беленьях вымазати. Боле не надо,бо придет муж ейный и покалечит.

А аще каков антихристь поворотит направо или налево, огнище поворотноене зажемши, того злодея огнищем сим и пожечи, зеньки окоянныеповыкалывати, руки-ноги диаволу пообрывати, сани поломати, да чудищепоганое гаишное на него насылати. Пущай пешим ходит, супостат, да законыдорожного толковища учити.

С анековточкару

I certainly feel like writing, and not just writing, but putting down in writing what I've been going through lately. But I'd turn out to be either too sober or too tipsy to write anything. Right now it's an effort, even these few words... "Goodbye, blue sky..."

A beach walk to remember



Few more pix here

Appearance is like a bus timetable – very often misleading.

Inspector Fowler
(c) The Thin Blue Line

... and the last one for tonight, just to reiterate what I've said on quite a number of occasions - freedom is...

Freedom

I've been carefully looking for places I've been too...

GPRS your location

That's how 'society' (read 'you') progresses - three stages: (a) you have and you sop, (b) you lose and show how miserable you are, and (c) you beg never worrying about your beggarly existence. Take your pick - which one of the three are you?

Freedom

This is the ending of the longest, most prominent in some ways, part of the stray dog’s life. No, the dog is still alive, it just came to realise that being stray, if it is in the blood, is going to emerge again and again as it happens in short breaks between being tipsy in the morning and the dosage relieving moment closer to noon. A bone thrown in rare occasions always helps it going; unthinkable and yet always secretly cherished dreams of being sheltered for the rainy night make the stray life almost extravagant especially if being lavished by those who hypocritically persuade themselves they do it for the sake of dog’s survival. Dog is a dog. But a dog without a chain and hence deprived of all those pleasures masters squander to those with collars now and then to impress the neighbourhood has, though often shorter life, a wider view of the scenery and harder understanding of life than that of behind the wall...

This dog is walking through the gate of that wall...

Yes, it does.

Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
And night after night we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun any more.
And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel cold as a razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeral drum

Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left
You'll find my favourite axe
Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
Just one of my bad days
Would you like to watch T.V. ?
Or get between the sheets
Or contemplate the silent freeway ?
Would you like something to eat ?
Would you like to learn to fly ? Would you ?
Would you like to see me try ?
Oh I don't know

Would you like to call the cops ?
Do you think it's time I stopped ?
Why are you running away?

Pink Floyd, The Wall, 1979 (c)

Не смог убрать всё под кат, это нужно во весь текст. Старая классика всё же проникает иногда до мозга костей! Слушать громко, под настроение и подпевать! В конце концов это time of the season, season for loving!..

Time Of The Season
The Zombies

It's the time of the season
When the love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try
With pleasured hands

To take you and the sun to
Promised lands
To show you every one
It's the time of the season for loving

What's your name?
(What's your name?)
Who's your daddy?
(Who's your daddy? He rich?)
Is he rich like me?

Has he taken
(Has he taken)
Any time
(Any time to show)
To show you what you need to live?
Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what?
I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving

What's your name?
(What's your name?)
Who's your daddy?
(Who's your daddy? He rich?)
Is he rich like me?

Has he taken
(Has he taken)
Any time
(Any time to show)
To show you what you need to live?
Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what?
I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving

I think life is generally speaking good. It is in fact way much better when one stops trying to fit it in all small boxes with numbers. Feeling of excitment is overwhelming when one starts accepting it with appreciation and the desire to understand rather than analyse and fit into criteria established by the rotten society.

I have become comfortably numb (“The Wall”, Pink Floyd, 1979). Indeed, that is what it feels sometimes – being numb because you have been heard enough, because you are tired of making a point, because you think that it sank in somebody’s mind, because somebody responded, because you have been dismissed, because you are not heard, because you have been heard enough, because what you have to say stopped making any sense for few of those who have that little to understand a bit of any sense. I have become comfortably numb. Ironically, when you are numb, they need you most… Would you say no? Would you fuck them off? Would you dismiss them as peasants asking for the raise? Would you wave them off like crippled beggars on the streets of Dhaka? No, you wouldn’t. Why not then? Because there was a time when you were that crippled peasant begging for a penny…

All alone, or in twos
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
Some gathered together in bands
The bleeding hearts and the artists
Make their stand
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad buggers'
Wall

(c) Pink Floyd, "The Wall", 1979

all above this verse is here

PS Why are we so fucking stupid?.. (rhetorical question)

На завтра утро остался один чистый носок. Нет, я конечно знал что будет рано или поздно один носок в одно милое утро, но это утро настанет завтра, и решить этот насущный, или точнее носочный, вопрос я так пока и не решаюсь. И казалось бы, да, что тут уж такого сложного взять и постирать дополнительно ещё один носок дабы восстановить пару? Ан нет, не так-то всё просто. Ведь пар всего сколько? Семь. Одна из них нерабочая и используется исключительно в домашних и около домашних целях, т.е. из рабочих пар всего шесть. На настоящий день использованы на протяжении текущей рабочей недели уже 3; как так получилось что при остатке 2х рабочих дней остался всего один носок предстоит разобраться, возможно, провести расследование. Выходы из сложившейся ситуации следующие:

- загрузить стиральную машину с носками и тем немногим бельём соответствующей цветовой гаммы;

- в рамках ручной стирки постирать один носок дабы компенсировать потенциальную утерю завтра утром;

- проигнорировать вопрос какой-либо стирки сегодня вечером и поэкспериментировать с ноками разной свежести по утру.

С учётом уровня лености на данный конкретный момент времени последняя опция кажется более приемлемая, хотя менее духовно-приятная. Объективно-необходимые выводы:

- установить жёсткий контроль использования носок, в особенности в нерабочие дни;
- свежесть пар или единичных носок устанавливать ежевечерне с целью обеспечения запаса на экстренные случаи.

Стабилизирование ситуации касательно содержимого и общего использования холодильника – основной пункт повестки дня следующего собрания.