18 December, 2005

an ukrainian babushka

lady lip dragged me out of amsterdam
she was ruthless.
after months of hiding, a bit like bin in the afghan caves, she picked my amsterdam weekend to become re-acquainted with society, and i was dragged along for the ride. no wasn't taken as an answer. first the "one shot party" for the opening of a new club perilously close to stop the fun turf, where she lapped up tequila like it was mother's milk. cue the day after, i was devasted and green and in bed till 6pm. she was fresh-faced and perky. then a spate of festive gatherings in fabulous apartments populated with the dull and idle. oh well. sipping tea now. and about to watch drugstore cowboy.

17 December, 2005


being in amsterdam means:
- splendid isolation
- alone with one's (at times unhappy, mainly introspective) thoughts
- plenty of alcohol
- obscene amount of cigarettes
- drugs (if you can afford them)
-comfy clothing (slug wear), possibly pyjamas, unwashed hair optional
- a stack of films to watch (take note, fellow amsterdammers, they're not necessarily sad ones)
personally find mxing it up helps, a few classics intermingled with some (teen)crud
- unmitigated self-indulgence to be inflicted on no one but oneself

i find an evening in amsterdam usually sorts me out. don't like it much there.


-- i HAD wanted a super tacky kitchen magnet of the MAO, and looked for it extensively while in china. alas, the chairman could only be located looming snidely over the forbidden city. nowhere else. all trace of him seems to have been eradicated.
however the unfailingly sweet, helpful and damn right enterprising federico hit the beijing trail and found me an original poster dating from the cultural revolution. MAO journeyed far and wide, across lands, oceans, up to milan, down to rome, back up to milan. but he finally made it HOME: above my bed.

"Communism is not love. Communism is a hammer which we use to crush the enemy."


15 December, 2005

"For every sigh that thou hast spent
I have sighed ten; for every tear shed twenty:
And not so much for that I loved, as that
i durst not say I loved, nor scarcely think of it"

R.I.P. Giuseppe Patroni Griffi

"You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need"
"But there's nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you"

13 December, 2005

however, while the cross may be gone, in its place...


the racing nuns.

setting a moment aside for THE CROSS.
i miss you round my neck. but you're missing a fake ruby.
and you vacillated. worn like it had never gone out style during JPII decline and fall,
the cross has been laid to rest.
those responsible for its demise know who they are...

kudos to lil' pea power puff girl. she, if she's to be trusted, put up with my jack daniel-induced snoring and my blanket hogging.

in london, having momentarily lost my sparkle

06 December, 2005

you know who you are too

05 December, 2005

er...so they're a bit er...blurry.
i just wanted a reminder of the visual epiphany that is this film
and just to silence those of you that know me well, yes i happened to have a minibar but settled for perrier.

-- A newly revitilized brochette takes the mike and kicks off the proceedings
-- veronica revels in the attention and looks fabulous
-- the photographer, HRH, was having an attack of the ''sour milk'' - mala leche - plain bad moody
-- everyone else was festive
-- a certain central banker walks past, bemused, while we were frolicking in plain view of tv cameras.

sandrine -- aka the brochette aka the paris badger -- raring to go. this is before the two evenings in the company of HRH princess sparkle drove to the nearest pharmacy for a quick fix..i put to you, the before and after

27 November, 2005

tree huggers

basking in the exquisite light

the light after the storm, as captured by lady lip

mother nature pulled this out of her hat, to lure us outdoors

snoozing on lady lip

captain oats

a salem moment. three hoods. fire walk with me.

naming no names. she shouldn't. she doesn't. but she looks good doing it

lush princess sparkle, shortly before she began her rant on all about eve. oblivious to all

"lumberjack chuck" was more interested in spicy sausage than card playing

captain oats mulls a nil

michael getting ready for a weekend with 3 insatiable girls

26 November, 2005

strike ONE -- left cold and bereft, waiting for P. Sparkle, who accomplished the feat of locking herslelf and Lady Lip Out. Nappy starts ruing the day she agreed to lend P. Sparkle her keys.
strike TWO -- Nappy returns like Cinderella at midnight, but a snoozing P. Sparkle totally snores through FIVE missed calls. P. Sparkle wakes up in a state this morning, imagining Nappy on the footsteps of the pope's waiters' house.

Anyway...this is for you nappy and your pooh.

25 November, 2005

princess sparkle in her many guises

My Dearest Lady Lip,
may i extend to you a heartfelt welcome into the Covenant of Caper Mischief. HRH and myself do hope you'll bring to it your customary resourcefulness, coupled with your biting, dare i say it, saucy wit. We are honored
to know you in all your spry finery. not to mention exquisite bustiness.

P. Sparkle, HRH and Capt. Oats Esq.

our Royal Highness,

May I take this opportunity to commend you on your unfailingly constant Sparkle and your inimitable regality. I look forward to being your esteemed colleague, confidante and cohort for many grazings to come.

Capt. Oats. Esq

forgive may delay in replying. Lest you should thinking me uncaring, how can I impress on you that your stealth in times of battle, your warmth in times of woe and grasp of the English tongue have never coddled me nor just amused. Rather, thou art
the sparkle in my eyes, quite simply, this year's love.
Yours faithfully
F. Sparkle HRH

if i ever find myself asking, why do i love rome?
i will only have to look at this picture to remind me.

23 November, 2005

the man in my room.

captain oats. chiaroscuro.

a space for the one-act plays
here are some of my favourites. authors anonymous sort of.

whiskers, whiskers again. by P frap

p: lonely
f: talk to the hand
p: ok
p: satisfied
f: smoke

nameless, by toko loco

f: the pope's dead. i can't believe it. i feel so much catholic guilt. i really need to get to back to my roots and wear a massive crucifix for at least six months.
tk: really?
f: i'm confused about my sexuality
tk: really!
f: i'm going to mongolia/zambia/togo. tomorrow
tk: really?!
f: i have a crush on berlusconi
tk: *&*(&*(*&(

and finally. over to captain oats and one of the lines that will enter the annals of history

f: you need a shag
s:i don't want a shag. i just want things spelt correctly.

princess sparkle: i have one!
captain oats: ck

stunned into silence. viva shakira.

2 a.m. and a whole lot of O.C. later, my detox attempt shot dead in the water and my partner in caper mischief in bed hogging the duvet. bof.

gao gao. blee-ed princess sparkle! I'm taming. fan hand...things are getting pebbly. stop the fun. watch out for the brillo pads. minty! from beneath you it devours. rexis tuuuu? and don't touch the pendant. even if you're fruity.
captain oats. me. you. seychelles. i feel amsterdam sneaking up on me and have had it with the log cabin. and apricots.

to all those that can make no sense of this. well. you're not captain oats. why would you?

21 November, 2005

diskowtitz. pre detox

me and my kaftan. one day i'll never take it off

erstwhile big sister. pal-a-roo (c)

the ever elusive laurence brought out from hiding. sort of

javier, i love you too

dena, sheyam's sister, needs no introduction

a belatedly late trip down memory lane. madrid and photos you can show your mother