Here comes Johnny

Today I’m exited to discovered Johnny Depp is, again, doing what he does best: playing Hunter Thompson. Expect a movie adaptation of the excellent novel “The Rum Diary” at the tail end of October. I’m exited for two reasons:

• because of Depp’s excellent performance portraying Thompson in Fear and Loathing (and, while you may think it’s a comical portrayal, it turns out that Thompson is actually exactly like that in real life).* The Rum Diary contains one perfect passage that I would quote verbatim if I hadn’t given away my copy the last time I quoted it. If I recall correctly: “I’ve been a rebel all my life"“drinking, running away, following my instinct. But I can’t help but wonder. When is my reward coming?““I’ve been a rebel all my life"“drinking, running away, following my instinct. But I can’t help but wonder. When is my reward coming?”

They don't make them like that anymore

Counterpoint

Slovenia

Lake Bled.

You were there

You were there. And not in a metaphorical way. Even though I couldn’t recognize your face in the dark, it was your voice speaking to me and it was your arms that were wrapped around my waist. From what I remember, we only talked. I don’t remember what we talked about, but it was way in which we talked that I clearly remember right now. The same way we talked only a handful of times. As if we were weightless, in orbit around the Earth, looking down at the lay of the land.

You were there. Nothing else was. There was no future, and the memories were something tangible. Instead of remembering, we showed each other our pasts as an old friend we hadn’t seen in a long time. Just as all other friends and places seemed old, it seemed me and you were there together for an eternity. Even though it only lasted for a couple of hours.

You were there. And I think “you” is neither singular or plural . You are probably a collection of extraordinary rare moments stolen. Stolen, not seized.

You were there. Which is why I don’t like to go to sleep. And hate waking up.

False start

Some sunny day in London, in the British Museum. A place I’ve heard a lot about and have wanted to visit for a while. All expenses paid. My shoes are killing me. They’re business shoes, I guess they’re supposed to. My mind isn’t here. It’s somewhere else, in a small conference room with cheap carpet. With a lingering, stuff smell of 20 perspiring maybes. Unfortunately, my feedback started with “Unfortunately”. Hence, it’s ironic I find myself here when I don’t want to be here.

But not this time

Friends, pt 3

Today, I’m very proud to feature a story written by a Marta, a very erudite Catalan friend of mine, with whom I have never failed to have an enlightening conversations about literature. She’s also the first to coin the term “it probably takes more than a lifetime to understand”. Unfortunately, a translation is not yet available, but we’re working on it.

• Una ombra s’accosta / A shadow approaches La dona que s’ha passat dos dies llegint ja no sap distingir si el soroll que ha sentit era també dins del llibre i quan pensa ho fa en prosa perquè és una novel·la. Has sentit aquest soroll o bé ha sigut un tret que algú ha disparat sense silenciador a dins de les pàgines del llibre?, es pregunta, i encara afegeix: No em diràs que ara t’has d’aixecar a mirar què ha passat, just ara que els carrers estan deserts i se sent un clac-clac de sabates, i al darrere una ombra s’acosta… No caldria dir que la dona no es mou de lloc, atrapada entre el dia i la nit que algú ha imaginat només per a ella. Però la casa és viva i torna a fer soroll. La dona no creu en la por metafísica però es diu que tanmateix havia d’anar a beure un glop d’aigua a la cuina i que tant per tant pot mirar si ha caigut alguna cosa.

Un cop d’ull a la casa no ha donat resultats. El soroll era fora, decideix; devia ser fort per travessar la finestra tancada. Es podria amoïnar però ho descarta perquè el que menys li interessa és semblar una vella neuròtica que s’inventa fantasmes de tan sola que es troba. Potser hauria de sortir a l’exterior, es pregunta, però es contesta que ara o d’aquí a tres dies al carrer seguirà havent-hi els milers de botigues que li tallen l’alè, que la deixen sense esma ni ganes de relaxar el pensament i que a més ara són plenes perquè mira l’hora que és. Al carrer s’hi mareja i s’ha de preguntar què té encara aquesta ciutat que la sent tan seva i tan envaïda. I un soroll no és res més que un soroll i no cal pas escapar-se’n.

Estava cantat que al cap d’una estona o potser unes hores hi tornaria a haver un soroll inesperat en una casa que fins llavors havia semblat morta. Just ara que la dona havia tancat el llibre i s’estava suggerint d’anar fins a la cuina per mirar de pillar alguna cosa de menjar perquè no pot ser bo tenir tanta gana. Més en passen d’altres, es diu, però què hi guanyaríem, es contesta mentre s’aixeca i mira que les coses són totes a lloc mentre recorre amb calma el passadís. Amb el ganivet escapça una ceba, clac!, clac!, i de la fosca en surt una ombra.

Atheist holidays, pt 1

Today is the 50th anniversary of one of the most important milestones of human ingenuity. Half a century ago, science had advanced to such a high degree, one courageous Russian decided it was safe to climb in a tiny tin can, and be literally shot all the way around the world. The flight took less than two hours, and the pilot landed safely in the country side. The peasants were understandably a bit surprised to see a bright orange clad man parachute down into their potato field. “When they saw me in my space suit and the parachute dragging alongside as I walked, they started to back away in fear. I told them, don’t be afraid, I am a Soviet like you, who has descended from space and I must find a telephone to call Moscow!”.

The milestone was an evolutionary one. We already we could launch things in space, and predict/steer where they should be. We also knew that we could safely expose humans to zero and high gravity environments with the right equipment, partly because of experience with jet plane technology and partly because of an array of mice,dogs and monkeys we send out and survived being in space. The only thing we didn’t know was if we could safely get someone back on the surface of the earth. It’s apparently not a trivial task to teach a monkey to use a parachute. Or to make a call to Moscow. Well, that day we all learned that we could go into space, and safely come back. And that some of us are actually crazy enough to do it.

The hero of this story, is, of course, Yuri Gagarin. A man whose medical evaluations show him to possess an excellent memory, a high degree of knowledge of complicated manners, as well as a perfectionist streak and attention to details. But above all, he was a relatively short man, and this made him the perfect fit for the job. The Vostok I space shuttle was a lot smaller and weighed less than most products of the American automobile craze, and also looks way less reliable.

Today, let’s celebrate Gagarin, for showing us how far we can get by trusting on science and ingenuity, and also for being the most courageous person since Audie Murphrey until Evel Knieval.

We will all live here in the future

Errata

Finally found a picture of Belgrade worth posting