Friday, July 31. 2009
Satisfiction
A very good friend gave me Sex and the City. Yes, the TV series, of course. On DVD.
At first I had quite mixed feelings about this, to be honest. All those perfect people who answer not the least to my expectations of beauty, who eat fancy foods I wouldn't even feed my dog with, who have a wardobe full of prohibitive high heel designer footware, while I own only two pairs of flat shoes and buy rather books and DVDs. Altogether, people I have less in common with than a figure skater with a nonswimmer - what kind of entertainment could that be?
Well, I was disabused. Today, when Carrie Bradshaw realised with joy that her Ex's newly wedded wife was an idiot, misspelling "there", and just after she had helped her hypocrite of a politician lover to some new insights by openly expressing that peeing or not peeing was the question - right there I realised it. I was wrong! Those people and I have something in common; we share something very important that many people miss. It's called a sense of humor.
At first I had quite mixed feelings about this, to be honest. All those perfect people who answer not the least to my expectations of beauty, who eat fancy foods I wouldn't even feed my dog with, who have a wardobe full of prohibitive high heel designer footware, while I own only two pairs of flat shoes and buy rather books and DVDs. Altogether, people I have less in common with than a figure skater with a nonswimmer - what kind of entertainment could that be?
Well, I was disabused. Today, when Carrie Bradshaw realised with joy that her Ex's newly wedded wife was an idiot, misspelling "there", and just after she had helped her hypocrite of a politician lover to some new insights by openly expressing that peeing or not peeing was the question - right there I realised it. I was wrong! Those people and I have something in common; we share something very important that many people miss. It's called a sense of humor.
Thursday, July 30. 2009
Explanetory
There is an episode of the tall and spectacular TV series "MONK" where marvellous Mr. Monk finds out that fine gold is literally hidden inside a text.
The originator of more than a hundred diaries has used gold ink to write down what ever happend to him and occured him worth enough to be mentioned - which was just everything that came to his mind. Eventually he was someone hiding his nugget and not a stellar writer.
There now, finally, unexpectedly, I found my answer to all this. I'm hiding. I hide bits and bytes and hopes and falling stars between the pages of this webspace. That's why! So don't you dare expect anything here that makes sense.
( Actually, I know that it's supposed to be "explanatory", but thank you very much! )
The originator of more than a hundred diaries has used gold ink to write down what ever happend to him and occured him worth enough to be mentioned - which was just everything that came to his mind. Eventually he was someone hiding his nugget and not a stellar writer.
There now, finally, unexpectedly, I found my answer to all this. I'm hiding. I hide bits and bytes and hopes and falling stars between the pages of this webspace. That's why! So don't you dare expect anything here that makes sense.
( Actually, I know that it's supposed to be "explanatory", but thank you very much! )
Wednesday, July 29. 2009
Experience
You can't stay sad, when you cycle. Therefore, in order to overcome being absolutely miserable, I had to go on a tour today, just before nightfall.
The dog had to come, even if she was not pleased about it. She loves to go for walk though, but the day should be bright, no rain for instance, and no heat either. And there should be a car to jump in taking her to her sniffing grounds. A shaky bicycle with a small and tight basket to sit in, that's not her idea of a good journey.
Well, since she was not only colour-blind, which is normal for dogs, but also a right and left confused, and had no idea of stopping when she was supposed to stop (obviously believing that cars were nothing but massive animals that could be wagged away with a cute tail if necessary) she he had no other choice. She either had to get in the basket or stay at home all on her own. So after considering her options and giving me the 'do-I-really-have-to' look, she finally gave in. And the sadness for her began.
And so, when we reached the first meadow she could make out from above, she suddenly decided that she had no business with the basket anymore. She jumped out of it and fell right into a puddle that came from God knows where, as it hadn't rained for days. Did I mention she hates bathing?
I nodded a curt "told you, didn't I" and put her back in the basket. "This is not it", I explained to her and went on to the big park surrounding most parts of the city.
It was a good tour through those fields and meadows and after only a few cubic meters of fresh air I had forgotten what was bugging me and enjoyed the sunset and its orange while cycling next to my jumping and dashing dirty dog.
She was so happy that, with still a faint vestige of an idea what was painful in my life, I did not have the heart to put her back into the basket so soon.
A chance! There it was!
From the moment she had to run on the street she stayed next to my front wheel as if she was tied to it by an invisible chain. Taken utterly by surprise I ordered a left and a right, when ever it was due, and she looked at me with that certain semblance of a smile only a dog can provide and followed the right direction. She stopped before I could even command at every street or corner and also at every unclear drive. And she matched speed when ever I was forced to slow down or speed up. I was so surprised that I nearly missed our own drive, but of course, the dog reminded me.
No more baskets, she said. No more sadness. And I promised.
The dog had to come, even if she was not pleased about it. She loves to go for walk though, but the day should be bright, no rain for instance, and no heat either. And there should be a car to jump in taking her to her sniffing grounds. A shaky bicycle with a small and tight basket to sit in, that's not her idea of a good journey.
Well, since she was not only colour-blind, which is normal for dogs, but also a right and left confused, and had no idea of stopping when she was supposed to stop (obviously believing that cars were nothing but massive animals that could be wagged away with a cute tail if necessary) she he had no other choice. She either had to get in the basket or stay at home all on her own. So after considering her options and giving me the 'do-I-really-have-to' look, she finally gave in. And the sadness for her began.
And so, when we reached the first meadow she could make out from above, she suddenly decided that she had no business with the basket anymore. She jumped out of it and fell right into a puddle that came from God knows where, as it hadn't rained for days. Did I mention she hates bathing?
I nodded a curt "told you, didn't I" and put her back in the basket. "This is not it", I explained to her and went on to the big park surrounding most parts of the city.
It was a good tour through those fields and meadows and after only a few cubic meters of fresh air I had forgotten what was bugging me and enjoyed the sunset and its orange while cycling next to my jumping and dashing dirty dog.
She was so happy that, with still a faint vestige of an idea what was painful in my life, I did not have the heart to put her back into the basket so soon.
A chance! There it was!
From the moment she had to run on the street she stayed next to my front wheel as if she was tied to it by an invisible chain. Taken utterly by surprise I ordered a left and a right, when ever it was due, and she looked at me with that certain semblance of a smile only a dog can provide and followed the right direction. She stopped before I could even command at every street or corner and also at every unclear drive. And she matched speed when ever I was forced to slow down or speed up. I was so surprised that I nearly missed our own drive, but of course, the dog reminded me.
No more baskets, she said. No more sadness. And I promised.
Tuesday, July 28. 2009
so true
(Page 1 of 10, totaling 38 entries)
next page »