Backlogged still
July 26th 2007,
I don't know whether or not I've touched upon the brillance of supermarkets here in the balkans but I love them for the unbridled capitalism they project. It's not the innards of the stores and it's not supermarkets plural actually, it's just the one big chain here.
Commandingly titled KONZUM in big bold white lettering upon a red background it feels like a the sort of statement only the most capable minds of a former communist nation turned capitalist could make. They do not ask politely, nor hold your hand, they simply and sternly issue you with your task. KONZUM!
I'm at a festival, oOoze, on the bay of Istruga on the island of Korcula. Right now it is quite small in terms of numbers which gives it more of a community atmosphere at the expense of making it a little harder to have a party in the evening. My time here resembles that in Bosnia & Hercegovina in that I'm not spending a lot, not doing a lot, and not understanding a lot.
On that note of language it is here that I've learned how idiotic it is to talk to animals. There is a puppy here, Puki (Pooky), that has everyone quite enamoured. Everyone coos and talks to him and I'm pretty sure he doesn't a fucking word. I sure don't. I mean, like me, he'll come to learn simple commands - It's depressing to think the dog is on the same level as me - but the long flows of prose cast upon him from his fans are as useless as him barking in his owners face for a half hour.
Since I like to pretend that these ramblings have some semblence of flow lets keep right on rolling with this theme of animals. Less animals and more wasps to be honest, but whatever, close enough. There are wasps here. They have reminded me of my intense distaste for them. Specifically because as soon as I try to eat outside they appear, as is the case when I drink outside, or while I read outside or hell, they're really just always there waiting to sting me. Worse yet is that it isn't some sort of great martyrdom like it is with bees; I like bees. Thus I have taken it upon myself to kill the little fuckers whenever the chance arises.
Some might cry out, 'what about the Karmic balance?' to which firstly I retort fuck your karmic balance - there are a lot of shitheads out there who certainly don't get theirs. Secondly wasps are too small to play any roll in the shifting of some unseen scale and finally, those fuckers started it.
Wasps aside this place is wonderful. I've been performing with my fire staff nightly to the praise of the others here and I even managed to get some professionally done photos by the photographer here. It was a good opportunity to be vain.
The Istruga bay is muddy, and the sensation of walking through the sea grass that populates the mud was best described as though you were walking on the back of a soggy dog. Very Very weird and a little unnerving in that I'm scared of crabs hiding in the grass, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to pinch my toes - the bastards. More realistically along the rocks is the threat of sea urchins.
I eagerly await the chance to piss on myself to neutralize the poison or whatever the reason is that justifies intentionally wetting yourself when you step upon one.
I don't know whether or not I've touched upon the brillance of supermarkets here in the balkans but I love them for the unbridled capitalism they project. It's not the innards of the stores and it's not supermarkets plural actually, it's just the one big chain here.
Commandingly titled KONZUM in big bold white lettering upon a red background it feels like a the sort of statement only the most capable minds of a former communist nation turned capitalist could make. They do not ask politely, nor hold your hand, they simply and sternly issue you with your task. KONZUM!
I'm at a festival, oOoze, on the bay of Istruga on the island of Korcula. Right now it is quite small in terms of numbers which gives it more of a community atmosphere at the expense of making it a little harder to have a party in the evening. My time here resembles that in Bosnia & Hercegovina in that I'm not spending a lot, not doing a lot, and not understanding a lot.
On that note of language it is here that I've learned how idiotic it is to talk to animals. There is a puppy here, Puki (Pooky), that has everyone quite enamoured. Everyone coos and talks to him and I'm pretty sure he doesn't a fucking word. I sure don't. I mean, like me, he'll come to learn simple commands - It's depressing to think the dog is on the same level as me - but the long flows of prose cast upon him from his fans are as useless as him barking in his owners face for a half hour.
Since I like to pretend that these ramblings have some semblence of flow lets keep right on rolling with this theme of animals. Less animals and more wasps to be honest, but whatever, close enough. There are wasps here. They have reminded me of my intense distaste for them. Specifically because as soon as I try to eat outside they appear, as is the case when I drink outside, or while I read outside or hell, they're really just always there waiting to sting me. Worse yet is that it isn't some sort of great martyrdom like it is with bees; I like bees. Thus I have taken it upon myself to kill the little fuckers whenever the chance arises.
Some might cry out, 'what about the Karmic balance?' to which firstly I retort fuck your karmic balance - there are a lot of shitheads out there who certainly don't get theirs. Secondly wasps are too small to play any roll in the shifting of some unseen scale and finally, those fuckers started it.
Wasps aside this place is wonderful. I've been performing with my fire staff nightly to the praise of the others here and I even managed to get some professionally done photos by the photographer here. It was a good opportunity to be vain.
The Istruga bay is muddy, and the sensation of walking through the sea grass that populates the mud was best described as though you were walking on the back of a soggy dog. Very Very weird and a little unnerving in that I'm scared of crabs hiding in the grass, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to pinch my toes - the bastards. More realistically along the rocks is the threat of sea urchins.
I eagerly await the chance to piss on myself to neutralize the poison or whatever the reason is that justifies intentionally wetting yourself when you step upon one.