Accumulation

While i was laing on the doctor table and he was cracking me up I saw, through the window a slight bit of a high rise and the sky. 
I remembered young feelings; the way it happens with smells or sounds. I thought that the excitment of beeing a teenager lies particulary in descovering suddently drastic diffrent perspectives of one’s familiar environment. 
In discovering that the day and the city are also yours and that you can sit on a roof at 6 in the morning. 
That the way the day is devided up is, in big part just a convenience for a large number of people to work togeather. 

While travelling you remember it: That the space and time are yours to feel and divide up.

Surprisingly the foot is still broken, and still hurting very much.

I’m laying in the bed sideways feeling the blood pressure like a thousend of tiny little needles.
The foot is still here still broken.

Last night I didn’t want to fall asleep utiill I remembered this scottish lullaby my mom used to sing me. We are not scottish, but my mom has the great ability to pick and choose what she likes from different cultures and incorporate each element in her own blend of living.

Here are the lyrics:

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air;
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean’s a royal bed.
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Many’s the lad fought on that day,
Well the Claymore could wield,
When the night came, silently lay
Dead in Culloden’s field.
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Burned are their homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men;
Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Coming across a new/old trend amongst young men:

Advice to My Sons
“Advice to my sons. Never put whisky into hot water bottle crossing borders of dry states or countries. Rubber will spoil taste. Never make love with pants on. Beer on whisky, very risky. Whisky on beer, never fear. Never eat apples, peaches, pears, etc. while drinking whisky except long French-style dinners, terminating with fruit. Other viands have mollifying effect. Never sleep in moonlight. Known by scientists to induce madness. Should bed stand beside window on clear night, draw shades before retiring. Never hold cigar at right-angles to fingers. Hayseed. Hold cigar at diagonal. Remove band or not as you prefer. Never wear red necktie. Provide light snorts for ladies if entertaining. Effects of harder stuff on frail sex sometimes disastrous. Bathe in cold water every morning. Painful but exhilarating. Also reduces horniness. Have haircut once a week. Wear dark clothes after 6 p.m. Eat fresh fish for breakfast when available. Avoid kneeling in unheated stone churches. Ecclesiastical dampness causes prematurely gray hair. Fear tastes like a rusty knife and do not let her into your house. Courage tastes of blood. Stand up straight. Admire the world. Relish the love of a gentle woman. Trust in the Lord.”

– The Wapshot Chronicle, John Cheever

“…Searching for a cure to the current epidemic of “Eternal Teen-Ager Syndrome” which has striken the vast majority of American males. Enough with the flip flops and short pants. Let’s start dressing like grown men…” Giuseppe (An affordable Wardrobe)

CLICK:

The Trad

The Foggy Monocle

An affordable wardrobe

The Sporting Life

The Material Review

A Continous Lean

Drinkin’ and Dronin’

Advice to my sons

Nov. 5, 2008

Dear Brother Obama,

You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.

I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.

I would further advise you not to take on other people’s enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, “hate the sin, but love the sinner.” There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people’s spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.

A good model of how to “work with the enemy” internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

In Peace and Joy,
Alice Walker

© 2008, Alice Walker

These are some good memories of this summerin NYC I finally remeberd to download them from my phone.
While we’re spending a quiet Fall saturday working on Pdfs and music videos. While waiting for tonight.
Renda Nick and Kassie love.

Oh and BTW WTF are those two people doing behind Renda?

While i’m still sick sweating this fever out I like to linger over some past jolly events:
Last week, Rory, Mila and I we were invited to Ploum (my very FAUVOURITE sushi restaurant in Paris) by the chef mr Sou. We’ve known him for a while now. He was having a private dinner for the birthday of somebody at chanel, and just plain old snook us in and sat us at table. For a while people were full o stares, but then we found this silver ring on the floor and gave it to the birthday boy.
That calmed the spirits a little bit.

We ate sushi and other deliciousness till about 3 am. Then all the party crew left. 
Sou insisted for us to stay a while, with the promise of champagne and oysters at sunrise.
The metal curtain was pulled down and we had the whole place for ourselves, and so we stayed,

and stayed, 
and stayed…

The sun rose, no oysters happened, but a whole lot of other things happened.
When the market in front of the restaurant started setting up we got super excited, ran outside to dance with teh 12 year olds and 60 year olds that were working it.

Ate tomatoes and peaches,
right there, right there.
Alive and happy.