anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
Do head-to-heads on Spanish words and you’ll find that the page count at Google Print averages around 30% more than the word count over at CORDE. The content and search functionality are different, but it’s another nail in the coffin of the Real Academia Española.
I don’t know if Arabella inspired the younger generation the way her grandfather did the older, but the first modern mention I’ve seen is the following, from El País of 10/11/1976:
Arabella Churchill, granddaughter of Winston Churchill, has joined the London squatters and occupied the second floor of an abandoned house to open a restaurant, where [...]
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Apparently some ladies & gents with whom I sing when the big geezer is off doing other stuff are going to be on the telly quite a lot.
Apart from the odd bit of arranging, the barrel organ is the thing at the moment, when I get time. It’s a somewhat more lonely path, but I’m not very good at dance steps or 80s music anyway.
Kalebeul wouldn’t watch a hagiography of a faghating totalitarian fuckwit like St Paul, so it sees no reason this weekend to take cinema seats away from Barcelona’s chiliastic masses in their nostalgic lust for Hispanic dictators and good-looking saints. Paul Berman’s piece from 2004 applies. Even the regime sociologists seem to have noticed that Cataloonia has lost track of reality.
Graffiti of Camarón de la Isla and guitarist, somewhere in Barcelona, I think in Carmelo, so overlooking the place where he died:
More here.
Kabe-Otoko/Wall Man, neither human nor demon, observes the world from within walls:
“Velen verzeggen Schiedam, maar sluiten dadelijk een verbond met Barcelona.” Is it about drinkers swearing by Dutch gin/jenever, only to turn to Spanish wine and brandy?
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