Depressed
And I hate history repeating itself. Just because B went back to the U.S to work for Bush again the same bloody result seems to be coming in. Why oh why. I know it isn't over yet, but still, four more years of world instability and terrorist worries, and the oh-so-beloved Bush the White House, not fun at all.
Think I should have got one of those "good bush - bad Bush" T-shirts.
Life feels petty and small when one listen to the news.
Back in Sweden again after the London thing. I have sore feet and too many books. In the end even I couldn't face entering yet another second-hand bookshop. Did spend an our in the Rothko-room at Tate Modern. That's one room I'd like to sleep in for a night. So calm. Tried to stay away from too much touristy stuff, but we had to visit the National Portrait Gallery and National Gallery. So much free art, lovely lovely lovely. But one can't take it all in at once. Should make it a part of everyday life and just pop in and watch some paintings again and again. Never made it back to the Wallace Collection this time, but one should always save something for next time.
The Halloween thing was a bit strange. I was a good ghost, for once totally made up and with good costume. The other guests were like they were. People with too much money and not enough brains. No, I am unfair, they are probably perfectly nice and good at whatever they work with, just not our kind of people. But some excellent costumes, the best one being the rabbit from Donnie Darko. Lots and lots and lots of free booze though, and not much else to do since I knew like 2 people there among appx. 60 and I talked to maybe 7 others. Still not used to seeing all the joints people smoke, but that is my puritanic Swedish side. Heck, lots of that around here too, just that I am not in those circles. My brother got fed up and walked away around 1 and I had to grab our coats and follow him. Ended up walking home from Marylebone up to Kings Cross and our hostel. We bitched about the people there and how stereotypically international they were. But I suppose it was interesting in some ways. And our cousin is very nice, we had a beer with him earlier in the week and he is pretty decent.
Other things that were good: Brunswick Center. Love the architecture, the run-down look of it and the Art Cinema. A good example of socially aware buildings from the 60s. And Skoob Books. We saw both films that were showing, French stuff and I did enjoy Rohmer's Triple Agent, felt like a book by Modiano, loved the fact that they spoke so much Russian and that the period thing worked as well as it did. Rohmer is still Rohmer, even when he makes a so-so film, it is so much better than much else.
And now my brother is in Paris, and I hate him for that. I missed France so much when I saw the films. London is very nice and all, but I feel at home in Paris in a completely different way. My English is better than my French, yet I speak more when I am in France. I don't know. I want to live in both places for a while, heck, I want to live everywhere for a few years. But I have to finish my last years in Lund. I cannot leave like my brother can. And I envy him for that.
To walk round in a big city is incomparable. For hours and hours one pass through new neighborhoods and new faces. Suddenly you are somewhere you have been before, you stop for a while and walk on. I crave that, but always end up in suburbia and small towns. Why?
Think I should have got one of those "good bush - bad Bush" T-shirts.
Life feels petty and small when one listen to the news.
Back in Sweden again after the London thing. I have sore feet and too many books. In the end even I couldn't face entering yet another second-hand bookshop. Did spend an our in the Rothko-room at Tate Modern. That's one room I'd like to sleep in for a night. So calm. Tried to stay away from too much touristy stuff, but we had to visit the National Portrait Gallery and National Gallery. So much free art, lovely lovely lovely. But one can't take it all in at once. Should make it a part of everyday life and just pop in and watch some paintings again and again. Never made it back to the Wallace Collection this time, but one should always save something for next time.
The Halloween thing was a bit strange. I was a good ghost, for once totally made up and with good costume. The other guests were like they were. People with too much money and not enough brains. No, I am unfair, they are probably perfectly nice and good at whatever they work with, just not our kind of people. But some excellent costumes, the best one being the rabbit from Donnie Darko. Lots and lots and lots of free booze though, and not much else to do since I knew like 2 people there among appx. 60 and I talked to maybe 7 others. Still not used to seeing all the joints people smoke, but that is my puritanic Swedish side. Heck, lots of that around here too, just that I am not in those circles. My brother got fed up and walked away around 1 and I had to grab our coats and follow him. Ended up walking home from Marylebone up to Kings Cross and our hostel. We bitched about the people there and how stereotypically international they were. But I suppose it was interesting in some ways. And our cousin is very nice, we had a beer with him earlier in the week and he is pretty decent.
Other things that were good: Brunswick Center. Love the architecture, the run-down look of it and the Art Cinema. A good example of socially aware buildings from the 60s. And Skoob Books. We saw both films that were showing, French stuff and I did enjoy Rohmer's Triple Agent, felt like a book by Modiano, loved the fact that they spoke so much Russian and that the period thing worked as well as it did. Rohmer is still Rohmer, even when he makes a so-so film, it is so much better than much else.
And now my brother is in Paris, and I hate him for that. I missed France so much when I saw the films. London is very nice and all, but I feel at home in Paris in a completely different way. My English is better than my French, yet I speak more when I am in France. I don't know. I want to live in both places for a while, heck, I want to live everywhere for a few years. But I have to finish my last years in Lund. I cannot leave like my brother can. And I envy him for that.
To walk round in a big city is incomparable. For hours and hours one pass through new neighborhoods and new faces. Suddenly you are somewhere you have been before, you stop for a while and walk on. I crave that, but always end up in suburbia and small towns. Why?