i asked the question - how are you? - of my brother today, and he was just getting out of bed. siblings of a kind we are, he sleeps with his computer, literally. really, he has the thing - well, it is not a mac, so it is a thing - set up so that he can chat from all the comfort of being under his comforter. at this point i am just glad that my love for sushi did not kill me this time. after all, i was at that much fated sushi bar in one of the european capitals on that very fatal day for one very dead ex-soviet - ex-all - now. i wonder if that was all a ploy to promote the new 007 film? perhaps not. even hollywood is not up to such tricks. but then again, why would they not? there are a lot of unemployed and not yet too old soviet spies who will do anything for a piece of action, to say nothing of what they would do for a bit of sushi. they have never questioned the legality or morality or it, why would they start now with such inconveniences? it is after all just another day job. i mean the day job about in all discretion putting some polonium 210 in somebody's sushi - or was it in the wasabi paste? - and then gracefully exiting the scene to not ever be traced. really, i like such thrillers. you know, the bards are suckers for thrillers. i, i just have my pretensions, so i think that i ought to like thrillers, write one and then just ride the tube to the top of the new york times best seller list. no hyphen on best seller, i know that much, and when it is convenient, i too can follow the orthography rules. best-sellerdom obliges!
truth is, we have all missed the cold war. what could be more appropriate than to have a reincarnation of it just when another copyright industry product - a film - is being launched? it helps sales, and it stimulates the economy. it creates jobs for carpenters at the studios, and keeps students from starving while collecting ticket stubs at the entrance of the movie theatres. it is all for a good cause, ain't it. i know that my sarcasm reeks, you do not have to remind me of it. but then it was i who reeked last night, and for once i pittied those who shared public transportation with me on my return from a most enjoyable dinner invitation. you see, butter or any other cow dairy product, even in small amounts, gives me a glorious case of flatulence for starters and then a good case of diarrhea. i get tired of being a pain in the ass about being strict about what i eat, and then i get my gut to pay for it. i drank lots of water and tea today, and yes i feel as good as new, thank you.
am i digressing? giving the tone that this post has picked up, it seems that "blogging drunkenness" is an essential part of my victual persona, and i can not possibly not blog about what is happening in this world and that once more has not affected me in any way. still, that other blog remains closed, and i was there and had sushi on that day. it could have been the day before, but what is one day between life and death? still, i am tired of blogging here and there, and everywhere. there are such things as tags and search engines and i am not bent on creating the perfect web all by myself. really not. i am ambitious, bent and driven, but me too, i have my limits. the kitchen sink will now have to accommodate some of drunkenness.
see, i was at a lecture of a most distinguished philosophy professor this past week. you know the kind of professor who has an entry in wikipedia, who has known a few dead philosphers, is emeritus at a few universities, travels here and there, and has lots of interesting scholarly opinions. i listened and took notes, and i came out of the lecture with the distinct impression that this man was repenting for crimes committed during the second world war. i was totally unimpressed and rather much in my own ego trip albeit a bit upset with myself that i have not read enough kant, aristotles and varela. i would have loved to argue with the man, but somehow reason took a hold of me and i left the lecture at break and skipped the discussion. it could also be that i was plain aghast with the remote possibility of the implications of what i had overheard two faculty members in their shabby jumpers and dreadful outmoded trousers chipper at each other. not impressed, the woman in black walked out and asked the girl at the café bar if she had soya milk. she did not. nowadays you can get soya milk in many café bars in london, this was not one of those. it was not in london either.
back to my titter that is not happening or why i am feeling insecure about producing a piece of work that i know i am damn well qualified to do? was it because before i was commissioned i was asked if i was qualified and my impulse on the moment was to ask the good man if he was joking. instead i said something or other, and then had to manoeuvre myself out of the something or other and sound brilliant, while all it felt like for me was that i was one hell of a bullshit artist.
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