+deliver us from free will+
The holidays are approaching. I don’t have any distinct plans, other than the DJ event I have scheduled for New Year’s Eve in Ibiza with The Prodigy’s Maxim and DJ Bob Sinclair.
I’ve been on one of my notorious insomniac sprees this week. I’ve found that an amusing way to kill some time when you can’t sleep is by riding the subway. At 4-5a.m. it’s usually silent and empty. Well not always silent seeing that I like to sing along to the songs playing on my i-Pod.
I just finished reading I was a Teenage Dominatrix a few days ago. It makes for an amusing read, if not make you consider a possible career in whipping blokes for $300 an hour. I’m sure that the Marquis de Sade would be proud of Mistress Alexis, alias Shawna Kenney.
NYC seems to be swarmed by Christmas trees. The only Christmas indulgence I’ve given into at the moment is the new cherry flavoured candy canes. Christmas always reminds me of when I was younger living in Venice and how the usual post-card perfect image of the city looked rather dreary during that time of year. Flashy lights on gondolas seem oddly out of place. The only positive thing about winter in Venice is that the water doesn’t smell, as it does when it get warmer, and for at least a couple of months you don’t get attacked by blood-sucking insects the size of mini-jets.
This post is so random but my brain’s gone into hibernation and refuses to be eloquent and precise in any way. So every time I attempt to concentrate my brain pulls a neuron hold and throws in bits and pieces from songs or films which makes attempting to write my articles for Italian Vanity Fair almost impossible.
To add more randomness, I'll allow Honore de Balzac to have the last word:
A good marriage would be between a blind wife and a deaf husband.
Somehow those Frenchmen were always right.
And before I forget, Happy Birthday Emily!
I’ve been on one of my notorious insomniac sprees this week. I’ve found that an amusing way to kill some time when you can’t sleep is by riding the subway. At 4-5a.m. it’s usually silent and empty. Well not always silent seeing that I like to sing along to the songs playing on my i-Pod.
I just finished reading I was a Teenage Dominatrix a few days ago. It makes for an amusing read, if not make you consider a possible career in whipping blokes for $300 an hour. I’m sure that the Marquis de Sade would be proud of Mistress Alexis, alias Shawna Kenney.
NYC seems to be swarmed by Christmas trees. The only Christmas indulgence I’ve given into at the moment is the new cherry flavoured candy canes. Christmas always reminds me of when I was younger living in Venice and how the usual post-card perfect image of the city looked rather dreary during that time of year. Flashy lights on gondolas seem oddly out of place. The only positive thing about winter in Venice is that the water doesn’t smell, as it does when it get warmer, and for at least a couple of months you don’t get attacked by blood-sucking insects the size of mini-jets.
This post is so random but my brain’s gone into hibernation and refuses to be eloquent and precise in any way. So every time I attempt to concentrate my brain pulls a neuron hold and throws in bits and pieces from songs or films which makes attempting to write my articles for Italian Vanity Fair almost impossible.
To add more randomness, I'll allow Honore de Balzac to have the last word:
A good marriage would be between a blind wife and a deaf husband.
Somehow those Frenchmen were always right.
And before I forget, Happy Birthday Emily!