anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
Some people in Barcelona attract your attention by calling “Éo” There’s a French example of this in Margueritte’s La garçonne (1922).
14yo Monique is being seduced into lesbian shenanigans by her freethinking friend, Elisabeth. Aunt Sylvestre comes looking for them. “Hého!” cries Monique, and the storm passes. The activities of Monique and Elisabeth are wholly unrelated [...]
I wonder whether they automatically cheapen moveable objects:
… and add value to stationary ones:
Following an exposition on a walk the other week of the various types of arch, a small girl enquired, “So are eyebrows to stop your head caving in?”
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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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