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