Lleida, boring?
Check today’s agenda. (The story of José Antonio Romero Polo, the Andalusian boss of the new dustbin company, is worth a read, however.)
Check today’s agenda. (The story of José Antonio Romero Polo, the Andalusian boss of the new dustbin company, is worth a read, however.)
There’s still no article on Chistabín in the Oiquipedià, the Occitan version of Wikipedia, believed to have around 1,832 legitimate pages (Arabic = 11,824).
Currently doing a bit of literary translation out of one very strange dialect into another, and here’s something not so completely different: a basic grammar of Chistabín, the well-preserved (whatever that means) dialect spoken in the Chistau valley in northern Huesca. There’s a small lexicon, sorry, lesico. I like words like agila (águila in Spanish) [...]
Today’s Libro verde entry (front page, right bottom) has Fernando VI in 1758 undoing various stuff done by Felipe V in 1714, including reëstablishing the right of imperiage. I speculated that “this must be some kind of feudal arrangement governing property and revenue sharing between landowners”, but a description has turned up (thankyou JA) in [...]
A spokesman for the new channel said: “Eighty per cent of our target audience will be anglophone. If we want pluralism in the field of international television news, we cannot ignore this. Our viewers will be opinion formers, journalists and people who travel a lot, and the language most common to them is English.”
Surely of interest to someone. The scrawl on the front page says “Royal Veterinary School”.
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?