Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Its Christmas time
Sometimes i should say thanks to God, i dont care who God is,
for those special feeilings I have for people and our world:
they are similar to the sense that someone could have looking
at this picture.
share my feelings
Monday, December 25, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Thom Yorke The Eraser harrowdown hill
Don't walk the plank like I did
You will be dispensed with
When you've become inconvenient
In the harrowdown hill
Where you went to school
That's where I am
That's where I'm lying down
Did I fall or was I pushed?
Did I fall or was I pushed?
And where's the blood?
And where's the blood?
I'm coming home
I'm coming home
To make it all right
So dry your eyes
We think the same things at the same time
We just cant do anything about it
So don't ask me
Ask the ministry
Don't ask me
Ask the ministry
We think the same things at the same time
There are so many of us
So you can't count
[ these lyrics found on http://www.completealbumlyrics.com ]
We think the same things at the same time
There are too many of us
So you can't count
Can you see me when I'm running?
Can you see me when I'm running?
Away from them
I can't take their pressure
No one cares if you live or die
They just want me gone
They want me gone
I'm coming home
I'm coming home
To make it all right
So dry your eyes
We think the same things at the same time
We just cant do anything about it
We think the same things at the same time
There are too many of us
So you can't count
It was a slippery slippery slippery slope
It was a slippery slippery slippery slope
I feel me slipping in and out of consciousness
I feel me slipping in and out of consciousness
thom yorke person of the year
Friday, December 22, 2006
The Clock Thom Yorke lyrics
Time is running out for us
But you just move the hands upon the clock
You throw coins in the wishing well
For us
You just move your hands upon the wall
It comes to you begging you to stop Wake up
But you just move your hands upon the clock
Throw coins in the wishing well
For us
You make believe that you are still in charge
But you just move the hands upon the clock
You throw coins in the wishing well
For us
You just move your hands upon the wall
It comes to you begging you to stop Wake up
But you just move your hands upon the clock
Throw coins in the wishing well
For us
You make believe that you are still in charge
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
dark pages
The first time I came across - not through readings or narrations - terrorism and the humiliation of human beings in the Former German Democratic Republic, it was October of the year 2002, in Berlin.
In the "heart" of the city, at the Museum of Communication, the creepy exhibition “Open Secret" was presented. Many akward exhibits from that violent historical period, enforced in my eyes, the intervention of the famous Ministry of State Security- Known as Stasi- in the private life of the citizens: mechanisms of wire taping, steam machines with which they opened the correspondence of the suspects and torture methods upon the citizens who were against the subjection of the country.
In the "heart" of the city, at the Museum of Communication, the creepy exhibition “Open Secret" was presented. Many akward exhibits from that violent historical period, enforced in my eyes, the intervention of the famous Ministry of State Security- Known as Stasi- in the private life of the citizens: mechanisms of wire taping, steam machines with which they opened the correspondence of the suspects and torture methods upon the citizens who were against the subjection of the country.
Outside in the fresh air , all the magnificent statues of the city, the ultramodern buildings with the famous architectural signatures in Potsdamer Platz … had shrunk inside me. All of them were only human fabrications, some highlights from human misery, artificial goods of mankind capable, at any moment, of the worst. Unfortunately in the name of humanism and socialism!
The same feelings emerged watching the film “The Lives of Others” directed by Florian Henkel von Donnersmarck. The film set in East Berlin spanning from 1984 to around 1992. It tells the story of a Stasi officer who is assigned to watch a group of artists. The difficult daily life in the country, the suicides of the citizens, the red fascism and the white loneliness, create a great, profound movie, homage to our common dark, European history.
G.K. for J Alfred’s Song
G.K. for J Alfred’s Song
Friday, December 15, 2006
THE FAIRY'S NEW YEAR GIFT BY EMILIE POULSSON [ADAPTED]
Two little boys were at play one day when a Fairy suddenly appeared before them and said: "I have been sent to give you New Year presents."
She handed to each child a package, and in an instant was gone.
Carl and Philip opened the packages and found in them two beautiful books, with pages as pure and white as the snow when it first falls.
Many months passed and the Fairy came again to the boys. "I have brought you each another book?" said she, "and will take the first ones back to Father Time who sent them to you."
"May I not keep mine a little longer?" asked Philip. "I have hardly thought about it lately. I 'd like to paint something on the last leaf that lies open."
"No," said the Fairy; "I must take it just as it is."
"I wish that I could look through mine just once," said Carl; "I have only seen one page at a
-4-time, for when the leaf turns over it sticks fast, and I can never open the book at more than one place each day."
"You shall look at your book," said the Fairy, "and Philip, at his." And she lit for them two little silver lamps, by the light of which they saw the pages as she turned them.
The boys looked in wonder. Could it be that these were the same fair books she had given them a year ago? Where were the clean, white pages, as pure and beautiful as the snow when it first falls? Here was a page with ugly, black spots and scratches upon it; while the very next page showed a lovely little picture. Some pages were decorated with gold and silver and gorgeous colors, others with beautiful flowers, and still others with a rainbow of softest, most delicate brightness. Yet even on the most beautiful of the pages there were ugly blots and scratches.
Carl and Philip looked up at the Fairy at last.
"Who did this?" they asked. "Every page was white and fair as we opened to it; yet now there is not a single blank place in the whole book!"
"Shall I explain some of the pictures to you?" said the Fairy, smiling at the two little boys.
"See, Philip, the spray of roses blossomed on this page when you let the baby have your playthings; and this pretty bird, that looks as if it were singing with all its might, would never have been on
-5-this page if you had not tried to be kind and pleasant the other day, instead of quarreling."
"But what makes this blot?" asked Philip.
"That," said the Fairy sadly; "that came when you told an untruth one day, and this when you did not mind mamma. All these blots and scratches that look so ugly, both in your book and in Carl's, were made when you were naughty. Each pretty thing in your books came on its page when you were good."
"Oh, if we could only have the books again!" said Carl and Philip.
"That cannot be," said the Fairy. "See! they are dated for this year, and they must now go back into Father Time's bookcase, but I have brought you each a new one. Perhaps you can make these more beautiful than the others."
So saying, she vanished, and the boys were left alone, but each held in his hand a new book open at the first page.
And on the back of this book was written in letters of gold, "For the New Year."
She handed to each child a package, and in an instant was gone.
Carl and Philip opened the packages and found in them two beautiful books, with pages as pure and white as the snow when it first falls.
Many months passed and the Fairy came again to the boys. "I have brought you each another book?" said she, "and will take the first ones back to Father Time who sent them to you."
"May I not keep mine a little longer?" asked Philip. "I have hardly thought about it lately. I 'd like to paint something on the last leaf that lies open."
"No," said the Fairy; "I must take it just as it is."
"I wish that I could look through mine just once," said Carl; "I have only seen one page at a
-4-time, for when the leaf turns over it sticks fast, and I can never open the book at more than one place each day."
"You shall look at your book," said the Fairy, "and Philip, at his." And she lit for them two little silver lamps, by the light of which they saw the pages as she turned them.
The boys looked in wonder. Could it be that these were the same fair books she had given them a year ago? Where were the clean, white pages, as pure and beautiful as the snow when it first falls? Here was a page with ugly, black spots and scratches upon it; while the very next page showed a lovely little picture. Some pages were decorated with gold and silver and gorgeous colors, others with beautiful flowers, and still others with a rainbow of softest, most delicate brightness. Yet even on the most beautiful of the pages there were ugly blots and scratches.
Carl and Philip looked up at the Fairy at last.
"Who did this?" they asked. "Every page was white and fair as we opened to it; yet now there is not a single blank place in the whole book!"
"Shall I explain some of the pictures to you?" said the Fairy, smiling at the two little boys.
"See, Philip, the spray of roses blossomed on this page when you let the baby have your playthings; and this pretty bird, that looks as if it were singing with all its might, would never have been on
-5-this page if you had not tried to be kind and pleasant the other day, instead of quarreling."
"But what makes this blot?" asked Philip.
"That," said the Fairy sadly; "that came when you told an untruth one day, and this when you did not mind mamma. All these blots and scratches that look so ugly, both in your book and in Carl's, were made when you were naughty. Each pretty thing in your books came on its page when you were good."
"Oh, if we could only have the books again!" said Carl and Philip.
"That cannot be," said the Fairy. "See! they are dated for this year, and they must now go back into Father Time's bookcase, but I have brought you each a new one. Perhaps you can make these more beautiful than the others."
So saying, she vanished, and the boys were left alone, but each held in his hand a new book open at the first page.
And on the back of this book was written in letters of gold, "For the New Year."
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Saturday, December 09, 2006
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