T0p D0g Reloaded

Entries Tagged as 'Prague'

Brief update of deeds

I have killed a bug. I believe bugs can travel long distances in a shoe, pocket or bag. If so, mine are coming straight from Medias, the land of love. Again, if so, before dying its atrocious death, the bug has been traveling with the speed of 138 km/hour according to the car manufacturer, or 131 km/hour according to the satellite connected to my GPS device.

Some devirtualization has occurred, which pushed me into a very interesting process called thinking. I like that, it makes me feel creative. Also, a bit weird, but not as weird as the photo situation.

In the more productive department, I have dusted my magazine shelves. A lot of magazines are currently spending the night in front of my door, at the mercy of the cleaning lady. However I could not part with the likes of GQ, Vogue, Blue and a couple kilos of other pure glamour. A good opportunity to muse over somebody I have erased from my life, but on whose stuff I keep stumbling. I have been advised to remain a true gentleman, so I will try to.

And finally there should be a phrase about writing, about all the writing I have lately aborted, about the craving for writing, and of course about the satisfaction writing brings.

Tags: Prague, a picture a day, mixing like crazy by monsoux
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Modern folklore

Then Red Riding Hood grew up to become Red Riding Cape. And she was all naked and voluptuous underneath it all. Far from void, her eyes saw right through you, like modern airport scanners. A lot of people were quite helpless in front of her predatory skills. Where are you now, Mr. Wolf? Where are you now.

Tags: Prague, a picture a day by monsoux
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This and that

The English lessons carry on, and my mum is unhappy because the new method is not structured as she expected and there’s practically no grammar lesson. You know, like in the good old days. Especially she is unhappy because she cannot grasp the this that these those thingy. So I have served her a bit of her own medicine, motivational and all, a sort of “what’s the big deal, Mrs. Engineer, what’s the big philosophy?!”. On which occasion I have remembered Mrs. Maris, my fifth grade crush, the English teacher. In brief, she taught us that this is one, more over here, while that is one, more over there. For more, these are here and those are there. As simple as that. And so I remember to this very day. I also remember writing my first postcard for Mrs. Maris, on her birthday, stating “Happy New Year!”, because I again was in the fifth grade, a very early beginner in English, and that’s what we, me and my mum, had found in the Romanian-English dictionary. What days!