Ave Maria

An oldish guy sitting on a staircase of a burned down church, trembling with cold in a worn-out overcoat, praying quietly or maybe just trying to keep his hands warm. Snow is flying in the air, certainly unimpressed. The calmness is scary. Then Ave Maria hits the gloom from a nearby pole loudspeaker.

There is no flame in those eyes of his. No passion left. Could anybody make him scream? Would he scream, one wonders, can he scream at all? Or just ask for help? Can he? No words are needed, no gestures, just a glance, please.

Has he resigned altogether? Who is he, or rather who was he?

As I'm passing by I have a strange feeling. It cannot be me.

Sense of humour

Two billboards, both funny.

The first one was a boring butter advertisement, saying "that's the taste of butter" until somebody added "for a tasteless price".

The second one shows Karel Schwarzenberg, the Czech foreign minister snoozing in the Parliament. The energy drink ad says "you'll last longer". Could anybody point me to a hidden innuendo, please?

Atonement

I've just seen the movie. Few things resonate.

Firstly, it's a chick flick, no doubt. Great for late autumn, I suppose. Beautifully filmed, appropriate music, appreciable acting.

Secondly, I can't recall a chick flick that would prominently incorporate such a breathtakingly seditious sentence — In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. An instant classic! Did MLK ever have a dream like that?

Thirdly, a real sentimental one. Me, Paddington, just outside one of the better bookstores around, across the street from two of my favourite cinemas. My last days in the city, hanging around, recording memories, to — sort of — never lose affection for people and things that went before. And chasing a coffee table book. A coffee table book, my dear friends.

A stand with free postcards and movie leaflets. Me, reading a short comment on the movie. I suspect something had left a trace. I remember considering going to see it. I remember whom with. I hesitated. I never went. No regrets. It meant to be that way.

That's how I'll look back on this one.

May?

May this be the best time of my life without me actually knowing it?

Strolling my life away, drifting through cities, countries, streets, parks, airports, nailed to the Internet or a book, sipping coffee in dodgy cafeterias and snack bars, enjoying compressed music and night trams. Is this really it?

I'm just wondering, 'cos there's probably no way to know until much later.

Feeling good

Haven't felt so good since... don't know when. Guess it has nothing to do with my current situation. How could it? It's all about booze. Take one beverage, then another one and mix them together. A bit more. Yeah, that feels right. And then drink. Drink more. And listen to a deep, deep music. Goose pimple music, honey. After a while, you find yourself watching the sky.

Could anybody hand me a joint, please?

Post orgasmic state

A one night stand. A quickie in a dark corridor. Bang-bang, off you go, thank you, see you again or maybe rather not. And now imagine considering a quickie and ending up having full-on sex for like two hours. Non-stop. Hot and sweaty, soaking in all kinds of bodily fluids, going through myriads mental states, ups and downs, flowing with it, enjoying, giving and taking as much as humanly possible on a roller coaster of lust.

And then, you're getting there. The waves of warmth are getting stronger, heartbeats through the roof, you're pushing harder and harder, you can feel the sensational finish just around the corner.

And then you come.

Yet there is no sex involved.

A personal record in f-words uttered then melting away in the bath, enjoying a margarita and a very Tony Montanesque mood.

Could I be talked into it again? Fuck yeah.

Sun

What a surprise. I've seen the sun today, lightening the Piccadilly. Had to take a photo as I doubt there's gonna be a chance to see a similar phenomenon anytime soon.

Tate Modern

A good one.

Cracking

Have just spent half a day in Charing Cross Road and around. Pleasing experience. Haven't bought a single book though I'm not sure it was the point. It takes a while to crack the numbness.

Should be coming here more often, thought I when passing out on the Tube.

Dreaming it all up again

Here I am, slightly bright, trying to look carefree more than I really am. As I'm looking back at 2007, I see so many positive results. I guess it was a good year, in all aspects but possibly one. So what? Almost nothing to whinge about, right?

Sigh.

Only I have to go and dream it all up again.

Movies - December 2007

December's gone in a blink. As I'm sitting back to write one last post about movies I had seen, I'm realising there's just few. No wonder. Here they are:

1. Running With Scissors (2006)
It took me almost two weeks to finish off this one. It wasn't boring, quite opposite, I found it reasonably funny, however every time I came home and decided to watch it I was too tired and I passed out within minutes.

2. Into The Wild (2007)
I have more and more respect for Sean Penn. Though knowing beforehand what was this about and how it ends, I still had a good time watching it. I guess the most difficult part of making this movie was to work out how to avoid clichés. And he managed.

3. Death At A Funeral (2007)
I wrote once — though someplace else — that I like movies that are true to their original intentions. In other words, the ones that do not pretend they're something else. This is clearly a laid-back comedy and nothing else. And as such, it's great.

4. Mr. Bean's Holiday (2007)
I was quite surprised when David Stratton noted about half a year ago that Atkinson, with this movie, is proving himself to be an accomplished disciple of silent film comedians of early 1920's. And he was right.

5. Waitress (2007)
Though lovable, I don't know exactly what to think of this. It wasn't that much of a comedy and certainly wasn't much of a romance either. Yet it was still a bit of a feel-good flick.

6. The Wizard Of Oz (1939)
Highly acclaimed dullness. Most probably, I should had seen it when I was six years old. Sorry, I missed. Yawn.

7. Ocean's Thirteen (2007)
There's no excuse for this flop by Steven Soderbergh and a bunch of his top-list friends. I believe they had fun. But what about audience? Fuck you Rusty, Danny and co. I hope there won't be Ocean's Fourteen unless you plan to make it an alternative to capital punishment.

8. Home Alone 3 (1997)
Quite funny, considering this is third installment. Mr Soderbergh, have you seen this? However, hardly teen Scarlett Johansson was strikingly lifeless in her unimportant side character.

9. Kulovy blesk (1978)
Smoljak & Svěrák classic. Hillarious. Unfortunately, if one does not understand Czech, they have no chance to enjoy this comedy par excellence.

So. For those few who used to read this monthly list, this one is the very last on DWDU. Accepting my brother's idea, it's moving to a different blog. Email me if you don't know where and you'd want to.

Movies - November 2007

I sold my 37" LCD telly. Thirtyseven is not a popular size anymore. Especially for someone who doesn't watch television at all. The plan is to buy a new one after holiday season, though haven't decided yet if it means this holiday season or maybe the following one. Or the one after.

1. Kráska v nesnázích (2006) (likeable)
2. Na krásnom modrom Dunaji (1997) (unbelievably Slovak!)
3. Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix (2007) (losing the grip)
4. Starship Troopers (1997) (predictable, yet enjoyable to an extent)
5. Skřítek (2005) (a movie I sadly missed in 2005, funny and smart)
6. The Jacket (2005) (nothing extraordinary)
7. Destricted (2006) (had its moments)
8. Mezi námi zloději (1963) (must have been outrageous at the time)
9. Death Proof (2007) (if this was a flop, I'd like to see more flops like this)
10. Ghost Dog: The Way Of A Samurai (1999) (I remember the poster I saw in winter Bratislava in 1999, and wonder/wonder!/wonder!!! why didn't I go see it?; stunning!)
11. Eastern Promises (2007) (one of top ten 2007 movies, Viggo is the man)
12. French Connection II (1975) (Gene Hackman's unforgettable heroin cold turkey in Marseilles)

I had to give it a bit of a thought to choose the movie of the month. While Eastern Promises may be one of the better ones released this year and Death Proof is also a great competitor, Jim Jarmusch made a classic in 1999; Ghost Dog is a hell of a movie and Forest Whitaker is touchingly convincing; I consider the hitman role his definite, standing Amin in The Last King Of Scotland at number two and Charlie Parker in Bird at number three. Hail to both Jim & Forest!

LIT

Hell of a week behind me. Too much to do, too little time left. Mobile never sleeps. I do. I need to. After few sleepless nights I managed to catch up on coma last afternoon. Woke up amidst darkened skies, completely puzzled, not knowing where and when am I.

What day is it?, asked a voice that I hardly recognised.

Friday, darling.

Ah, ok.

Had few glasses of Jim Beam afterwards, just chilling on the balcony, watching drags and afterlife nightlife. It felt like holidaying in Greece.

LIT as a backdrop.

The Killers, Sydney 11 November 2007

Just came back from The Killers gig in the Entertainment Centre. Positively surprised. Have never heard of them until attending Corbijn's premiere last month; they covered Joy Division's Shadowplay for the movie and soundtrack. And they've done it rather well.

Atmosphere was one of the best I've seen in Sydney for years. Let's face it — unless there's U2 or Red Hot playing, Sydney audience generally sucks. People don't sing, hardly clap, and typically just stare, listen and sip beer. That's a better scenario, of course, the worse one is when people chitchat, fuck with their mobiles and don't bother to pay attention to a gig they spent some 100-plus bucks for.

This one was different. People did listen, did clap, did scream and did sing along. Might have had something to do with prevalent age group and sex present. Teen chicks, basically.

They closed the concert with classic Helter Skelter, the song Charles Manson stole from The Beatles and U2 stole back (as Bono said). I've done a little Google search, yet couldn't find them performing this one before. Quite an encore.

The bottom line: Rock and Roll is alive and doing fine. Gdnya, fellas.

Oh — and the setlist:

Sam's Town * Enterlude * When You Were Young * Bones * Somebody Told Me * Smile Like You Mean It * Reasons Unknown * Tranquilize * This River Is Wild * Read My Mind * Shadowplay * Bling * Mr Brightside * Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf * Mightnight Show * Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine * All These Things That I've Done * Exitlude * Helter Skelter

Movies - October 2007

I'm lazy, lazy, lazy!

Summer's all over the place and I'm hiding behind blinds not letting a single blade in. Switched off the aircon to save the planet. Therefore slowly dying myself.

Anybody to save me?

Have seen few flicks worth mentioning. Red Rock West was a surprisingly decent one, Little Fish was strong and the winner is Corbijn's Control. This guy, while spending almost 30 years in England is so remarkably Dutch. He's witty, he's smart, he's laid-back and very pro. One can almost touch his conscience. Definitely knows where he's heading and what he's doing at all times. You've heard it right. He's smart. Smarter then anybody thinks he is. Thumbs up.

Anyway, here's the list before I jump off the balcony.

1. Obsluhoval jsem anglického krále (2006) (disappointing)
2. An Officer And A Gentleman (1982) (predictable, narrow)
3. Team America: World Police (2004) (very South-parkish, huh, very trendy)
4. Little Fish (2005) (Kate, Sam and Hugo are great in this little Aussie gem)
5. Charade (1963) (a must for Audrey Hepburn admirers)
6. Knocked Up (2007) (good chill)
7. Red Rock West (1992) (Mr I-Can't-Act-Any-Better-And-Any-Different-Than-This delivers a classic)
8. Naked Lunch (1991) (lucky I fell asleep; repeatedly lucky!)
9. Conrol (2007) (Corbijn's an instant legend!)
10. 1408 (2007) (Cusack is one of few actors who are even worse than Cage. Flick's alright)
11. Crank (2006) (if you wanna get killed, Jason Statham is your man)

That's it, kids. That's it. I have to pay taxes, so excuse me while I kiss the sky.

How do you sleep?

— Attacked Lennon his former bandmate McCartney ironically through a little rock tune from Imagine. However, there is no irony involved in the title of my brainless post.

While having a piss a minute ago, I came to realise how irregular my sleep patters are. I sleep whenever I feel like, minus eight-odd hours I have to pretend I'm a human capable of reasoning to pay my bills at the end of the month.

I sleep when I come home, passing out at any time, quite often being in coma until well after midnight, then being wide awake until early morning hours, going out when people are coming back from parties, sleeping through the sunny weekend days without the need to go anywhere or expose myself to light.

With no drugs involved, ladies and gentlemen. I'm just an owl. For years now.

So long!

Johnny has announced the federal election to be held on 24 November. As voting is compulsory I have no choice left but go and cast the ballot. Won't have a hard time deciding between all them democratic communazis.

I'd prefer this country — and the world, for that matter — to concentrate on sustainability. I may be a dickhead tossing my life away in an urban jungle, hidden in high rise shadows, experimenting with various joys and writing empty lines, yet I would want to die feeling the kids are left with chance to outlive 21st century.

So long, Johnny!

Summer

Temperatures over thirty, tee glued to a body a bit more than desired. Few strokes in a pool, a starting shot next to an open balcony afterwards. Twilight. Jazz, a call to London. Mate; bringing pizza, asking for bourbon and a cookie. A move, a club. A bunch cheerily knocking back already. Rugby against England, we are being chopped. Full glasses in, empty ones out. Full glasses in, empty ones out. Terrible music. Treble cutting ears. They're tryina get rid of us. Out!

Hey, Armand! Night street chances, chill with Ministry of Sound, more alcohol, more joy. Decibels for sleeping neighbours. Last gulp, a street again.

Moving on; hwstgn Floyd. It's closed already, boys, fuck, three a.m, I'm kinda sleepy. One shout, bro. Fuck boys, quick. Local metal fans playing air guitars better than Slash, Hammet and Frusciante together the real ones. Three rounds, before Floyd cuts short kids' holidays.

Potenia. More and more glasses, floor packed by weirdos. This will never end.

Final bourbon well after sunrise. City's awaking. Sunnies, heading to bed. Sleep. Sleep.

Movies - September 2007

While softening on partying, evenings are getting longer. Window-licking local video store. Browsing through titles long forgotten and miraculously found again. Catching up on Hollywood classics and Hollywood trash and managing to go through few Czech gems, too.

1. Goya's Ghosts (2006)
2. Scarface (1983)
3. Ray (2004)
4. I Could Never Be Your Woman (2007)
5. I-See-You.Com (2006)
6. The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)
7. Interview (2007)
8. Love And Other Disasters (2006)
9. Underworld (2003)
10. Kingdom Of Heaven (2005)
11. In Her Shoes (2005)
12. Štěstí (2005)
13. The Mating Habits Of The Earthbound Human (1999)
14. Proč? (1987)
15. Live Free Or Die Hard (2007)
16. Rok ďábla (2002)
17. Grandhotel (2006)

The best one this month? Guess Scarface comes quite close, though just quite. Štěstí, known as Something Like Happiness outside of Czech Republic is my tick. Le cinéma par excellence.

Being back

Got back to the City after a two-day trip to beautiful beaches, picturesque seaside resorts and tranquil unspoiled nature. Splendid. Back to high rise jungle. Decided to dine out. Quickly jumping stairs (lift ain't eco-friendly, babe!), passing deserted hallway, godforsaken gym, empty pool (but for the water, 'course), and then?

City's pulsing through the night, rush, vibe, bang, race, flow, blitz, the whole spastic population made it out tonight. Including me.

No more words needed, babe. Respect!