rain outside, jazz inside. aside from the times spent on the road, i'm eating dinner alone for the first time since coming back. rather lonesome i'd say. the excitement of being in my own place has died down somewhat. i always do that--burn up my storage of excitement in one go.
i miss being hugged. a loooong good *tight* hug.
i'm thinking about Jen and the book she was reading some time ago, How to be alone. How?
This is the 7th time i've moved since graduation, meaning in roughly a year and a half. A relief to know that this time I'm going to stay put for a while...
i'm one week into the Celta course. Surprisingly it's not a nightmare. I realized I actually enjoy teaching to some extent. It is satisfying spreading excitement, seeing the students improve, seeing them have fun, hearing them share their thoughts and feelings... there's something really wonderful in all of that...
After watching some of the Czech animations from the mythologie(s) de mon voisin collection at idecaf i became intrigued by the czech sense of humor. the screened animations by adrian kukal and michal žabka were grotesque, dark, and completely absurd. with women portrayed as voracious, intimidating, overbearing or rather dominating creatures. far from elegant or flatering but perhaps their humor lie in their absurdity.
Unfortunately, most of the czech comedy clips available on YouTube have no subtitle and as much as the imagery are quite amusing, i can't quite get a grasp of the content. Films aside, below's a funny excerpt I found on www.humorbin.com
Through the center of Czechoslovakia there's a train speeding along. In one compartment of the train there are four people. A beautiful vivacious young woman, an old matronly woman, a Russian soldier, and a Czech dissident.
Suddenly the train goes through a tunnel. It is completely dark. Then is heard a loud kiss and an equally powerful slap. When the train exits the tunnel, the Russian soldier is holding the side of his face, and the Czech dissident is grinning his face off.
The old matronly woman thinks : "Now that's a fine young woman, the Russian soldier tries to steal a kiss in the tunnel and the lady slaps him one!"
The young woman is thinking : "Now that's a strange Russian soldier, he'drather kiss that old hag than me."
The Russian soldier is thinking : "Now that's a smart Czech, he steal the kiss and I get slapped."
And the Czech dissident is thinking : "Gee I'm smart! We go through the tunnel, I kiss the back of my hand and get away with slapping a Russian soldier."
This piece however does not lie within the dark humor category which I recently discover to have a taste for. as can be said of the grotesque, the fantastic and the absurd.
And while we're on the line of the dark and grotesque, another short animation I saw last month left quite a deep impression. Seeing this piece again on the computer screen hardly compares with the impact it creates in the theater, but nevertheless it's worth seeing--Overtime.
Unfortunately, most of the czech comedy clips available on YouTube have no subtitle and as much as the imagery are quite amusing, i can't quite get a grasp of the content. Films aside, below's a funny excerpt I found on www.humorbin.com
Through the center of Czechoslovakia there's a train speeding along. In one compartment of the train there are four people. A beautiful vivacious young woman, an old matronly woman, a Russian soldier, and a Czech dissident.
Suddenly the train goes through a tunnel. It is completely dark. Then is heard a loud kiss and an equally powerful slap. When the train exits the tunnel, the Russian soldier is holding the side of his face, and the Czech dissident is grinning his face off.
The old matronly woman thinks : "Now that's a fine young woman, the Russian soldier tries to steal a kiss in the tunnel and the lady slaps him one!"
The young woman is thinking : "Now that's a strange Russian soldier, he'drather kiss that old hag than me."
The Russian soldier is thinking : "Now that's a smart Czech, he steal the kiss and I get slapped."
And the Czech dissident is thinking : "Gee I'm smart! We go through the tunnel, I kiss the back of my hand and get away with slapping a Russian soldier."
This piece however does not lie within the dark humor category which I recently discover to have a taste for. as can be said of the grotesque, the fantastic and the absurd.
And while we're on the line of the dark and grotesque, another short animation I saw last month left quite a deep impression. Seeing this piece again on the computer screen hardly compares with the impact it creates in the theater, but nevertheless it's worth seeing--Overtime.
The construction is coming to an end. Tomorrow they tile the floor.
The workers, their clothes hang from make-shift lines on both balconies. There're 2 women and a baby among the crew. Mother and child and grandchild. The girl's only 22 and her baby's a few months old. He sleeps soundly despite all the noise. I'd never once seen him cry.
The older woman looked at me and observed Girls your age, they're all married and with kids already. I laughed and shook my head. She helps around with light works such as scrubbing and cleaning, or painting the window frames. and along with her daughter, with a small electric stove in one corner of the room upstairs, they feed the crew
The older woman, she has 5 daughters, the oldest is 28 and the youngest 19. Four of them are married and one is a divorcee. She said it's more comfortable being by herself. She can go wherever she wants whenever, do whatever. We have interested suitors but she no longer wants to live with a man...
The crew sleep on the floor, side by side with the dismantled doors and glass panels. The baby sleeps in a hammock in the small room. His mother by his side on the floor, singing him songs. People scattered on the floor and clothes flapping on the line outside the windows. A boy's name embroidered above the right pocket of a white shirt, a shirt from secondary school maybe, burned red under the neon street light.
The girl once asked me will it be just you staying here? I blushed and mumbled no, my friends as well...
It's so big, she smiled and looked around the room, eyes wide.
and I blushed.
ahhh life.
The workers, their clothes hang from make-shift lines on both balconies. There're 2 women and a baby among the crew. Mother and child and grandchild. The girl's only 22 and her baby's a few months old. He sleeps soundly despite all the noise. I'd never once seen him cry.
The older woman looked at me and observed Girls your age, they're all married and with kids already. I laughed and shook my head. She helps around with light works such as scrubbing and cleaning, or painting the window frames. and along with her daughter, with a small electric stove in one corner of the room upstairs, they feed the crew
The older woman, she has 5 daughters, the oldest is 28 and the youngest 19. Four of them are married and one is a divorcee. She said it's more comfortable being by herself. She can go wherever she wants whenever, do whatever. We have interested suitors but she no longer wants to live with a man...
The crew sleep on the floor, side by side with the dismantled doors and glass panels. The baby sleeps in a hammock in the small room. His mother by his side on the floor, singing him songs. People scattered on the floor and clothes flapping on the line outside the windows. A boy's name embroidered above the right pocket of a white shirt, a shirt from secondary school maybe, burned red under the neon street light.
The girl once asked me will it be just you staying here? I blushed and mumbled no, my friends as well...
It's so big, she smiled and looked around the room, eyes wide.
and I blushed.
ahhh life.
When I woke up at 6 this morning it was pouring. it continued raining until after lunch, and even after it stopped the sky and the air and the houses, everything looked gray.
i dropped by the house in the afternoon. They'd finished raising the floor 30cms. I will be safe from the waters from the street for the next year or two. until they raise the street and the cycle repeats. That area--the streets flood every time it pours, and even when it doesn't pour the streets still flood from the river's rising tide...
They were painting the walls when I entered. For some reason they were painting my bedroom pinkish purple when I'm certain I chose brownish orange. i'm not quite sure how I feel about purple and pink...
purple and pink...
pink and purple.......
oh my.
i dropped by the house in the afternoon. They'd finished raising the floor 30cms. I will be safe from the waters from the street for the next year or two. until they raise the street and the cycle repeats. That area--the streets flood every time it pours, and even when it doesn't pour the streets still flood from the river's rising tide...
They were painting the walls when I entered. For some reason they were painting my bedroom pinkish purple when I'm certain I chose brownish orange. i'm not quite sure how I feel about purple and pink...
purple and pink...
pink and purple.......
oh my.
i really hate it when you're forced to say what you feel and when you finally said it it doesn't sound quite true or right. because in the end you don't really know for sure what it is that you feel about them. there is the outer layer of feeling, the inner in-between layers, then the hidden layers deep deep inside. and as you ransack through the whole pile all you get is confusion. but no, they want an answer. and now that they have one neither side is happy...
when it doesn't rain i like to climb on the roof and let be. on the rooftop you can watch the lights in the neighborhood gradually seep into darkness and the lights from the broadcasting station in the distance blink on and off. you hear the sounds of occasional motorbikes roar from the street. and you smell the wind and see the shadows of the tree in the neighbor's house bow at you from the opposite wall, bobbing up and down.
someone's forgotten laundry billows on the line.
on the rooftop you sit and watch and wait for nothing. your mind concentrates solely on the small details illuminated in the night. and suddenly the sky is all around you and you are floating.
waiting for nothing.
when it doesn't rain i like to climb on the roof and let be. on the rooftop you can watch the lights in the neighborhood gradually seep into darkness and the lights from the broadcasting station in the distance blink on and off. you hear the sounds of occasional motorbikes roar from the street. and you smell the wind and see the shadows of the tree in the neighbor's house bow at you from the opposite wall, bobbing up and down.
someone's forgotten laundry billows on the line.
on the rooftop you sit and watch and wait for nothing. your mind concentrates solely on the small details illuminated in the night. and suddenly the sky is all around you and you are floating.
waiting for nothing.
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