It is done!
All the posts I cared to keep have been moved here and Rattlebrained on blogger has been deleted! Poof!
:-)
It is done!
All the posts I cared to keep have been moved here and Rattlebrained on blogger has been deleted! Poof!
:-)
In Africa, someone steps on a landmine every 20 minutes, often children; in the world 20’000 people a year are injured or killed by them…
I have been aware of a high tech way of finding and removing them being developed not far from where I live…
My, my, already December 23rd, where does time fly?
On Thursday we played a private gig for an xmas party and since it was private I will only comment on a favorite swiss meal whose name will go unpublished until I remember it. Basically you pile up a mixture of raw meat on your plate: pork, chicken, turkey, beef, lamb… anything goes. These are cooked on a heated slab of Teflon placed in the center of the table, you know, one of those thingies for melting cheese.
I finally got around to reading Richard Miller’s last book: Tanglefoot: An (Almost) True Story of Civil Wars and Cities. Normally I would have rushed into it with glee but because I only learned of his passing away this last spring, looking at the cover was still painful enough that I kept putting it off….
Isn’t contemporary art great! So much better than all those dusty old paintings that took hours to look at because there was just too much to digest. Now you can go look at an exhibition, pop through it in no time whatsoever, be delighted with it all and go on to the next one. It’s the greatest thing, and whats more you don’t need to worry about being smart or educated enough to understand anything. The zap through concepts that many hot young artists are chugging out these days are shrewdly calculated to nudge you exactly where it’s needed to trigger that automated response! You are putty in their expert hands…
As it turned out, I wasn’t in much of a touristy mood yesterday because I had just discovered that one of my friends had passed away last year, and that I wasn’t aware of it. I was planning on visiting but when the email bounced I felt something was amiss.
As daylight-saving time plunges us into the future or the past depending, I was thinking of a short story by the French author Marcel Aymé (1902-1967), read a long time ago and whose title I can’t remember. The story is based…