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Kāpēc Čalovski neizdod ASV? Tāpēc, ka viņu grib izdot Zvaigzne ABC.
/Skutelis/

Viņš ir tīk smūks, ej dīīīrst...
/kaut kādas mazgadīgās uz Zemītes ielas/

& jaunais [post-rehab] Saiklōns negaidīti brutāls, monolīts, monotons, mazliet nepietiekami melodisks, pat vēl tumšāks par WTF, nu un gandrīz vairs nekāds dārk elektro, ne-vienkārši nikns industriālais metāls, kaut kur lasīju, ka pēdējais, neticu

Kaut kad šeit būs

Yes, there was racism, but there was also classism. You’re a high-powered corporate attorney. You’ve spent most of your life reviewing contracts, brokering deals, talking on the phone. That’s what you’re good at, that’s what made you rich and what allowed you to hire a plumber to fix your toilet, which allowed you to keep talking on the phone. The more work you do, the more money you make, the more peons you hire to free you up to make more money. That’s the way the world works. But one day it doesn’t. No one needs a contract reviewed or a deal brokered. What it does need is toilets fixed. And suddenly that peon is your teacher, maybe even your boss. For some, this was scarier than the living dead.

Once, on a fact-finding tour through LA, I sat in the back of a reeducation lecture. The trainees had all held lofty positions in the entertainment industry, a mélange of agents, managers, “creative executives,” whatever the hell that means. I can understand their resistance, their arrogance. Before the war, entertainment had been the most valued export of the United States. Now they were being trained as custodians for a munitions plant in Bakersfield, California. One woman, a casting director, exploded. How dare they degrade her like this! She had an MFA in Conceptual Theater, she had cast the top three grossing sitcoms in the last five seasons and she made more in a week than her instructor could dream of in several lifetimes! She kept addressing that instructor by her first name. “Magda,” she kept saying, “Magda, enough already. Magda, please.” At first I thought this woman was just being rude, degrading the instructor by refusing to use her title. I found out later that Mrs. Magda Antonova used to be this woman’s cleaning lady. Yes, it was very hard for some, but a lot of them later admitted that they got more emotional satisfaction from their new jobs than anything closely resembling their old ones.

I met one gentleman on a coastal ferry from Portland to Seattle. He had worked in the licensing department for an advertising agency, specifically in charge of procuring the rights to classic rock songs for television commercials. Now he was a chimney sweep. Given that most homes in Seattle had lost their central heat and the winters were now longer and colder, he was seldom idle. “I help keep my neighbors warm,” he said proudly.

1.5h techno-opera set in future USSR

http://youtu.be/tBKTrVa20CQ
http://rusfolder.com/37194309

http://argonov.ru/2032.html

es nezinu vai tu nopietni saki paldies vai ņirgājies

bet nu zuzes nerubī doomu

viņas arī parasti domā, ka viņas izraisa doomu

nu ka mums viņu dēļ dooms

kaut gan dooms vienkārši ir visapkārt

TWIMC: Summoning 2013 beidzot arī 320 kb/s

Labs kino. Iesaku (2010)

Stundu pazāģēt ar veco un tad uzlikt motorzāģim jaunu ķēdi. Uaaaaau kāpēc nav nekāda tādam ekvivalenta "radošajā jomā"?

(Iešņaukt amfetamīnu neskaitās)

Varbūt mēs esam muļķi, kas paši nolemj sevi grūtībām (ērkšķiem) kaut kādu iedomātu zvaigžņu vārdā, neapzinoties, ka to gaisma ir miljoniem gadu veca un tāpat nesilda, ja mums nav mīlestības.

Per aspera ad aspera,
ja mums nav mīlestības.

Reizēm gribas iekomentēt, retāk ierakstīt, bet no otras puses engribas pievērst sev uzmanību. Vismaz kamēr neesmu dzemdējis dēlu, izdiedzējis zeltā laistošos vārpu lauku vai nomedījis vismaz mamutu. Pagaidām izskatās, ka tās zāles tikai atliek depri uz vēlāku laiku. Sirds tāda distoniska. Nesūdzos vienalga, kas kaitēja neredzēt eksistences neizsmeļamo potenciālu un bezgalīgo bezcerību vienlaicīgi. (Man nekad nav tā, ka “viss ir slikti”, slikts esmu tikai es.) Starp citu, ļoti un negaidīti, nu ļooti patika jaunā Anna Karēņina (2012). Tikai titros pamanīju, ka adaptējis lieliskais Toms Stopards. Tā, kā tas jādara mūsdienās ar klasiķiem, lai nekaitētu gremošanai un skatītājs nenosprāgtu no garlaicības. Bet “visiem” noteikti nepatiks

Vakar ievēroju, ka, ja labi pacenšas, jau kādu trešo nedēļu var nozagt jauno Wardrunu, kurai jāiznāk tikai marta beigās, vai



Spēks, protams

Šis arī patīkams, tāds hororīgs un psihodēlisks. No Īīīslandes. Saldus sapņus

Book of Sand (2011) – The Bees and the Butterflies [EP]

Vienīgais šī projekta ieraksts, kuru spēju paklausīties (sorrz, nistagms), toties kā sāku, tā nespēju izslēgtneuzlikt atkal jau otro dienu. Sešas tautasdziesmas rietumkrasta/jaunlaiku nekvalitatīvā blekmetāla apdarē. ****** Nosacītais avots

Bandcamp | Mediafire (40 MB)

Nu & kā tu neēdīsi no tik skaista koka. VILLJAMS BLEIKS, 1808

Vakar klausos Radio III un domāju, viss, jāvelk Mālera simfonijas – ir mežs, ragi un stīgas, un man vajag, lai būtu (instrumentu) mežs – besī tikai, ka nevar saprast, kā tagot. Bet šodien iekāpju trolejbusā un tur priekšā kas – neviens cits kā atkal Treibergs (šoreiz neiereibergs) – es domāju, vai tur nav jābūt kādai sakritībai –

Poll #19446 Rudzi
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Holdens Kolfīlds

Holden Caulfield is teen angst bullshit with a pickaxe. He’s sarcastic, nasty, and completely unlikeable. He also doesn’t give a shit. He is every teenager caught between the shitty little games of high school (“you’re supposed to kill yourself if the football team loses or something”) and the fear of adulthood (“going to get an office job and make a lot of money like the rest of the phonies”).

By being the pissed off, nasty, cynical insane bastard, Holden Caulfield suggests that it is ok to be a shit. Your criticisms of the world are not invalid and nothing you say or think is so bad that you need to repress it. Ironically, this is not only something that is essential to survival but is also the key to ultimately becoming a decent caring human being. No one can grow up if they don’t deal with the awful side of themselves that hates everything. To repress it, is to give it power. To let it out to play is to learn to control that side.

Nebūs pagājuši ne astoņi gadi...

anti-joke.com

Vakar nabaklabā mani apskāva iereibis Treibergs* un teica, ka es smaržojot pēc laukiem, proti, pēc malkas. Es patiešām biju tikko no laukiem, par ko gan man sakāms ir tikai tik, ka šoziem malkas sagādāts maz un nav diez ko sausa, tāpēc salīdzinoši daudz laika pavadu pilsētā, lai neizbeigtos. Tomēr uzteicamas tās maņas Treibergam, jo biju pilsētā jau vairākas stundas un gan burbuļvīnu malkojis, gan kaņepju dūmus elpojis. Laikam jo pats no laukiem; teica, ka februārī, iespējams, būšot jauns Nertens * ievērojiet, cik organiski lasās iereibis Treibergs, tāpēc rakstu tieši tā, nevis lj-to tur />

‘Sir,’ I said to the universe, ‘I exist.’
‘That,’ said the universe, ‘creates no sense of obligation in me whatsoever.’

«Nē.»
«Nē? . . . Nu tad . . . tur mēs varētu netraucēti parunāties. Rītvakar? Ja?»
«Tur? Rītvakar? Ak nē – nē!»
«Nu kad tad? Lai paliek uz rītvakaru!»
«Nē, nē.»
«Jā! Lai paliek vien!»
«Bet kad iznāk . . . ka nevaru . . . var izgadīties . . .»
«Tad nobrauki zemākajam zaram galā lapas, tur tam ozolam aiz saimnieka klēts. Sveika!»