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Last week I met Sanja H., briefly, in the Future Bakery. I liked her a lot, she reminded me of that certain fine urban character from Belgrade, probably extinct by now, of understated sophistication and self-deprecating humor. I hope I get to know her better. Finished "Piccoli equivoci senza importanza" (Tabucchi), "My century" by Aleksander Wat and, skimmingly only, Richard Dawkins' "The devil's chaplain". Oh how I weep for the passing of Stephen Jay Gould and his gift of beautiful, deep, original thought. Speaking of the dead--adieu to Francis Crick. Saw "Bob le flambeur", "Tirez sur le pianiste", "Le cercle rouge" and "Il gattopardo". Here is the text of Boby Lapointe's hilarious song "Framboise" from Truffaut's movie. Et bien qu'elle soit Française, Et, malgré ses yeux de braise, Ça ne me mettait pas à l'aise De la savoir Antibaise, Moi qui serais plutôt pour... Had dinner at Asian Legend with Alison, Raymond, Marc and Richard. Wasn't too bad considering we're all almost utter strangers to each other. I'm looking toward the retreat with dread and trepidation. |
Clement, Charlotte, Abena & Junior!
- 15:09 -
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I saw them on Sunday, after ten years. We went to Chinatown, Charlotte and Abena did some shopping, then we had dinner in "The House Of Gourmet Seafood". We had ice cream and tea at my place. The kid (who I've seen for the first time, and he's 8 years old) is very cute. I couldn't ask if he was dragging his legs because of a problem similar to Clement's, or if he was just imitating him. Lucia guessed him to be five, so he appears small for his age. I was horrified to hear about Kwadwo. That brilliant, calm, curious boy I thought would become a superb scientist or a diplomat gave up on his studies after the first semester (he'd won a full scholarship, on top of a dozen other prizes and stipends) and ran away--to join the Army! They hadn't even heard from him for months, they talk occasionally now. Clement and Charlotte are devastated. It isn't even a question of salvaging a career (after all, he's only 19, and even if it turns out to be impossible to get another scholarship, he could find a way to earn a degree), but of saving life. He has to stay in the Army for at least four years, it's practically certain he'll get shipped off to Iraq. I cannot begin to fathom why he did it. I always worried he might rebel against Clement's rule, but I never imagined he might want to run away in the direction of even stricter discipline, even less initiative. |
 I saw Clouzot's "Les diaboliques", Visconti's "Rocco e i suoi fratelli" (I don't know why I chose to see it again, it upsets me so), Jehane Noujaim's "Control Room" about al-Jazeera's reporting on Iraq, and, yesterday, the absolutely sublime "Pépé le Moko", followed by "Voici les temps des assassins".Samir Khadir in "Control Room" reminded me of all the intelligent, ironic, wise, complex Arab friends of ours and of the incomprehensible chasm between them and the Americans exemplified by the good and earnest, completely clueless Lt. Rushing. And yet, he had a breakthrough of sorts, when he realized that the sight of Arab victims had the same effect on Arabs as the one seeing dead and imprisoned American soldiers had on him. |
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Last night I saw "Touchez pas au grisbi" and "Casque d'or". Loved both, but the latter especially, a perfect movie. It unfolded with impeccable rhythm, and the characters were beautiful: hoodlums and whores and small town artisans and the high society ditzes slumming it for a night and running into murder. Simone Signoret was magnetic, radiant, like a starchild fallen on earth. Finished the three volumes of Le vagabond des limbes (Aster Blistok!) saga in "integral" edition. Was too impatient to wait for the other two available to get here, so ordered them from Amazon France. This isn't something I should do often. |
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Link to an extensive listing of klezmer bands: http://www.klezmershack.com/contacts/klezbands.html I've heard live The New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars and The Klezmatics. |
Ostavila sam jednom blogeru link za ovaj CD: Muzicka ocjena tek vrlo dobar, ali repertoar je malo neuobicajen (Britten), stihovi fenomenalni (Auden, Cole Porter), pa je preporuka jaka. |
Miiiiiiirakul!
- 04:18 -
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As usual, I got off at Lawrence and fled outside to the bus station, leaving the poor lemmings to wait for the bus in the smoggy, damp, rank darkness. I had my library shoulder bag and the backpack. I was so engrossed in the book I was reading ("Ferdydurke") I climbed aboard mechanically and, totally oblivious to my surroundings, continued to read until my stop. Only then I noticed--with unutterable horror--that I'd lost the purse/backpack somewhere. Ooooh, the devastation! And yes--practically the first thought was "my pet! I lost my pet--it truly is OVER!" I sat there like a cretin and kept repeating "how could that happen, how could that happen", while the driver tried to help, calling the tower to see if anyone reported a bag on the subway etc. We stopped at the light before Lawrence when I saw a GUY HOLDING MY PURSE IN THE STREET, asking people about it...! I jumped off the bus, screaming "that's mine, that's mine" and grabbed precious to my chest--I couldn't believe it, I still can't, it sat there alone on the bench on a busy street for at least 40 minutes and NOBODY touched it! Thank you, terrorism. |
Wednesday's child is full of woe
- 21:15 -
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I was running late again today (another mostly sleepless night) and then boarded the wrong bus (second time that happens). Got off past the long bridge, waited forever for the street signal to change, only to get almost hit by a bitch in a cabrio. She darted out from the direction of the tennis club, or the funeral home. I yelled at her ("stupid bitch!"), I hope it HURT. Oahahahaha!1! And THEN, when I went to pick up the autoclaved spinner bottles, the dolt who runs the steam scene handed me a vessel straight from the dryer into my bare hands, burning my fingers. It happened too fast (obviously I saw HE was wearing gloves), and no way could I have allowed those expensive jimmies to drop and break. Finished "The subtle knife" and Tabucchi's "La testa perduta di Damasceno Monteiro". I don't care about plots at all when the flavor of the city and the culture looms so large. Oh for a plate of Oporto tripe. Saw Bresson's "Pickpocket" and Louis Malle's "The thief of Paris". I was in a terrible mood, cranky, bloated, hateful. "Pickpocket" bored me to death, the second somewhat less so, but I still exited bitterly questioning my way of life, constitution and future, something which is usually reserved for that "hour of heroes", as Napoleon put it: 4 AM. |
Sunday
- 22:47 -
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I had lunch with Chris who told me about his planned return to Berlin in September. Talked about Isherwood, Kastner, the Weimar Republic, Kurt Weill, Eisler and Gisela May... He makes me want to go there; coincidentally I read today about the new German immigration law which makes it even easier for highly qualified foreigners. Who knows. Mail from Jessica in Paris; she raves about the scene in the Marais, and yet strikes up another e-mail affairette with a woman in NYC. (Somebody from Sloan-Kettering, a little older than me, don't know her.) Nothing else happened today, and thanks for that to the Lord, the merciful, the compassionate. |
...i cvrci, cvrci cvrcak, na cvoru crne smrce...
- 22:39 -
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Izgleda smijesno, ali sto da se radi. Ne zelim ispasti hladna, pisuci na engleskom (kojem cu se svakako vratiti, jer mi je lakse), ali manje mi je vazno kako ja zvucim, nego malo osluskivati glasove od doma. Jer, valjda sam zato i otvorila ovaj blog--uhvatila me tugica i samocica, dosadno mi je, fale mi starci i brat i njegova beba. Prijatelji su mi na sve strane svijeta, s prijateljima se cujem... Ali, da, jezik. Sto znaci znati jedan mali opskurni jezik, i pjesme i sale i igre rijeci na njemu? Jedan jezik koji je vjerojatno osudjen da izumre, kao i ljudi koji ga govore. (Nije to nista strasno. Navikla sam misliti u geoloskim erama (i nanosekundama), meni je odlazak dinosaura jucerasnja boljka.) No, zasad. Zasad smo jos tu, i trtljamo. |
Saturday
- 17:32 -
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I was supposed to meet Abhishek in "Miss Saigon" yesterday, but he didn't show up. I'd already ordered two coffees and, by golly, I drank them both. I strolled through the Chinatown on my way to AGO, a couple of hours early for "The Battle of Algiers" and so went into the museum and absorbed the shimmer and the glimmer, as well as an inordinate amount of violet and blue pastels, of the Turner-Whistler-Monet exhibition. Please god, let me NEVER grow to like impressionism. I love Turner, of course, because of the change he underwent, because a tradition broke through him like white light through a prism. (And because of the porn Ruskin destroyed, and I've been imagining in vain, lo these twenty years.) I sat outside and began leafing through the books I picked up in the library (finished the first volume of "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen"--LOVED the references to "The Pearl": Miss Coote's Confession, Lady Pokingham Or They All Do It etc.) when Abhishek appeared. Chatted a while, then my movie started. Tremendously interesting. Poor Algeria, poor all the poor of this bitter earth, ever poor and doomed to ever more poverty. Trudged home with 20 pounds of books hanging from my shoulder. Scarfed a salad, mussels, rye with wasabi mayo--che delizie. And so to bed. |
Emily the Strange
- 17:02 -
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Finished Erich Kästner's "Fabian". Looks like a gorgeous day outside, I think I'l go carp it before the black dog awakens.  |
Shallow waters
- 04:33 -
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My keyboard doesn't speak yr craxy moon language, so I'll take a lazy refuge in English. Today I drank a lot of coffee, surfed more than I worked, finished "La chartreuse de Parme", read James Joyce's red hot letters to Nora, and ate a can of smoked mussels. |