Oxford, Paris, and other things

still busy writing this book.... to keep you occupied and out of mischief for a while, perhaps you could fill in the survey for the Ultimate Picture Palace ? It is my favourite cinema in Oxford and has so many foreign films showing it is great!

long time no see.... I am busy writing... a book! But to comfort you... a little poem... in the style of Michel Houellebecq - but less structured than him... but it sounds a bit like him, non? Du plus lon qu'il m'en souvienne je ne peux la terre imaginer on a dû l'exploser il y avait des aliens

Fantastic display of contemporary work here in Oxford at the Ovada galery till the end of the month. (not sure how to get there? Here is a map ) I wrote a review which is here on the daily info website but there is also this great introduction to her latest work here, on the Art Circus Blog and, of course, her own website with a good selection of her work.

Perhaps it is the influence of the baccalaureat that has just started in my country, and perhaps some of you know that the first of all examinations is the philosophy test... I have to say I didn't do much work then... was in the back of the class while all the other members of my gender where in front, salivating. It is a cliche, yet a bit true, that all girls in France are falling in love with their philosophy teacher... well,... didn't happened to me... Or perhaps it is just getting lost in Blackwell's last week, and indulging on their 3 for 2 campaign and buying a book called Philosophy Bites Back Well, in any case, whatever... I have started, courageously, to read this book, and started with the first chapter, on Socrates. So here I am now on reading "le banquet" ( Symposium ). So far so good, these bunch of guys are going to a diner, and as they have drunk a bit too much the night before, they might not drink that much on the night... one guy can't s

Скажи меня, дорогая подруга, что она не больше не красивая И может быть чуть-чуть толстая Скажи меня, что она ничего не читает Или толко глупые журналы И когда она в Одессе Людям скучно и стыдно тоже И в её доме есть шум без мысли Скажи меня, дорогая подруга, что она... что она... пожалуйста подруга ври мне!

Roasting I feel very Spanish today roasting in the sun waiting for a bus that does not come. I tried not to show fear when I walked on the road the metallic dinosaurs passing by, as long as I am not in their way... How long have I waited now? One hour maybe? No cigarettes left. I'll be cranky. Americans are passing by, doing their hobbies, dressed up to "work out". Oh I'm working it out just fine here. written in July 2012, near Ventura.

In the country In the country of my ancestors I feel nothing so far but difference Maybe I should be like those surfers Looking at our lands with indifference On the beach The sickly smell of your own frying skin reminds you, from time to time gets into you then disappears against the salty breeze. You are. You are. You are... incapable to even think about reaching that factor 40 bottle right in front of your lobster-like nose.

If you love stones more than people Building building building on your emptiness If you love your car so much You won't stop at the stop sign For the passer-by that I am If you think saying it's lovely All the time will stop you From feeling like shit Behind your designer glasses And you carry little bags with brand names like Titanic flags If you're afraid of leaving Your stuff on the sea side While you go swimming And off in rented gear you go Into the sea the sea... Your rented sea Your whore of a sea... To me she was a Virgin the sea Implacable with sword Oh Joan how we loved you, how we burnt you! How you have all the right in the world to kill me! And we fought and we fought Till she let me go. Oh mercy! And here I am, The day after, Crying over art on the ground It's shaking like an earthquake You walk on it Some people don't see it. This is Tenderloin, who gives a shit? You're only here for a shoot or a girl That you will dump a few hours later But an ol