a few (purpose driven) words by anne stevenson:

I was brought up in the (american) tradition of self-making, self-pity and self-advertising. It began to sink in on me that "i" is not the best foundation upon which to build an art. Any art needs a tradition, a history, a mythology, a faith. Poetry has so far been the best way of "making" I've found. But prose might do as well. Or prayer, which is most difficult of all. No artist can be optimistic in days of spiritual decay, but it is possible to be honest. And joyful. In these days of superfluous affluence, rewarded wickedness and sophisticated violence, my answer is to live simply, reducing my needs to the level of the beautiful and the necessary. From a position of having much and little, it is possible to live more richly than i ever imagined.


i say.

P. Ormorod:

....advertising is necessary to fill gaps in the knowledge of consumers, without which the demand curve wouldn't operate...

there's an ad I often come across at work. its ussually done as a one page A4 size advert with the page being divided in 2 halves horizontally. the top part of the page has a white plate with two sausages in it. the bottom part has two sausages in the plate and a teaspoonful of mustard next to it. a writing underneath says: "the right partner increases your value"

i feel

reliving the trauma

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqDwKulqqHI&mode=related&search=

nikkis bed
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rShh2urp2D0&search=nikkis%20bed

genius!

Pardon the quality

...it amazes and numbs me to this day how liquid time is once you step out of your comfort zone, the territory you are familiar with, and submit your humble body and soul to the matters of the unknown. is time spent on the road really is the same time that governs our lives here and now?..i have always been aware of my tendency to loose a sense of objectivity as soon as someone said that 24 hours in a day is not enough..i would feel something..IT.. building up. I believe it is more than enough, much more than enough. and trips like that would prove my thesis if i had one. how else can you fit a never ending traffic jam (V - a blackspot maybe:P), synchronous car wipers/dancers, an imaginary life of a Posh Lady and the perplexing metamorphosis of a Posh Lady Driver into a Posh Lady Passenger, littlebigmonstrous cars and pipes infront of our little tiny car, strawberries in the mouth, on the chin, and on our clothes, and Oh SO Ignorant Welsh Wateress, gorgeous jams and crepes, and alley ways and rude bartenders and food thats way to Unhealthy but since we are on holliday...a trip...its only a trip..roads, people, cars, its only a trip..in polos or volvos. its only a trip. (paraphrasing that advert...) some times are more sickening (literally) than others..oh but blueberries and giant steps for miniature feet and smells and colours so vibrant so vivid so LIFE, mad dogs and shitting sheep, and laughter, laughter, all we hear is radio gaga, "what if i have to put it on the FLOOR", aista the cook, aista the friend, aista the manager, aista the driver, aista the one to introduce us to Glyn the Bitter who crowns me the Nasty Little Bugger, and those inside jokes...never been better...or always as good...how could one say a day is not enough?!

Would you believe me if i said i was NOT aware that Europride 2006 was taking place in London this year?? I know! To think that I read bits and pieces of everything published in the UK and I did not know London won the rights to host Europride this year. That's how gay friendly UK press is haha

Anyway, I was on my way home taking a stroll down Soho's streets when it hit me that something was not right. Soho was as brilliant as ever but a bit different than always.. First of, GORGEOUS even BEAUTIFUL men in nothing but boxer shorts or speedos whichever way you looked, rainbow flags everywhere and yeah, DELICIOUS MEN!! and i do mean EVERYWHERE...there was not a spot on the street or on the pavement that you could step onto and not step onto something else..like rubbish or someone else's feet. Oh and the selection of subjects to perv at!! Fetishists, S&M, Ladyboys, Transgender, Transexual, you name it..London's whole LGBT community in one place...i tell you...a sight worth of anyone's time. I was waiting to meet a few friends and go for a drink when this guy started chatting me up. Right, i thought, i look DECENT so what do you want?? I try to be nice and all and even exchange a few lines with him, find out his name's Thomas and he's from Moscow but he looks like he's from Kairo. Then, out of nowhere, as if asking me to pass down the sugar he goes: You know any clubs where transexuals meet? And me in my helpful mood of course I start telling him about the possible places and then while I'm at it I think...Christ, is this weird or this is how it should be? The guy looks fine, nothing weird about him, nothing suspicious, doesn't have the incest-rape-your-parents-pedophile look about him as opposed to some people i know and see on a regular basis. To make a long and boring story short, i had to leave him to meet my friends who brought a few strangers along..we ended up in this cozy little bar in Soho. I think it was even called Soho and we were the only customers in there which is very hard to imagine if you are in London..But I suppose when there's so much happening on the streets who wants to stay inside. So we got to choose this miniature submarine like cubicle of a room with leather upholstered walls, an entrance like the one people have for cats to enter the house from the outside and one window the size of a pancake. proper Europride style..Ok, don't even try to think what these walls have witnessed before..So yeah..The night progressed slowly as one of the strangers, Dean I think was his name, an Ozzy (and you all know how much I like Australians) was talking nonstop about drugs and drugs and more drugs and how to smoke that and how to take that and what that one does to you..Christian, Trine and I looked at each other as if to say: are we getting old or is it just that some people's brains never develop past the fetus stage. More people joined our sleazy-porn-mag-style party, Dean (who by then I found out was a former alcoholic thus the never ending spiel about dragons, Es, smack and whatnot) had more nonalcoholic cocktails watering his Deep Throat (his allusion, not mine), his sister was a picture of a proper BB contestant- brainless but fascinating to watch in small doses, Jess got quiet after a glass of white so we decided to leave.

Taking the tube home was a nightmare. I was so jealous of Christian that moment, him living in Covent Garden, i want to cry thinking about that..oh well..one day..so yes.. I do not remember the last time (not even during rush hour!) so many people were touching, leaning and breathing at me from all directions possible. The carriage was totally overloaded and i heard the TFL official's voice before getting on the train: "PEOPLE!! would you MOVE along the platform. IF you DONT move along the platform you will never get home because the tube station will be closed and you will have to find alternative ways to get yourself from point A to point B"

you should have heard him...his tone and the voice...as if he wanted to insert an F word after every word he said, so annoyed, so pissed off and so angry at these bloody tourists who would just stand right there and not move their backholes. all this joy at 00:00 while starving, hyperventilating (sp?), tipsy with Till West blasting at my eardrums..im lovin it..

Home is a mess. Must clean before tomorrow because next week is looking to be FULL of events. Marketa's brother has been staying with us for three days but i havent seen him yet. Hm.

Yesterdays Diet: 2 bisquits and coffee for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, coffee, tea, double JD and coke, wine wine wine...Feel like i have not had food in my stomach for weeks. Need to go get some body fuel :/ pronto!! Off to the shop