Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I've seen the 2-part PBS Frontline show, Bush's War, and liked it. I especially liked how it was scored. Dramatic turning points or significant moments of the story were underscored a with low, ominous, spooky drone.
...
I'm not an apologist, but the show focuses mainly on players and personalities at the top of the executive branch in a very finger-pointing way, as if the president single-handedly concocted the sentiments that made the quagmire possible. He gets all the blame instead of some of it. There's no coverage of the smoldering outrage of a proud nation. No images of weeping eagles, no photos of how the flags went up all over everything.
...
There were a lot of stills of Washington DC. Great classicism in architecture. Love it!
...
I'm not an apologist, but the show focuses mainly on players and personalities at the top of the executive branch in a very finger-pointing way, as if the president single-handedly concocted the sentiments that made the quagmire possible. He gets all the blame instead of some of it. There's no coverage of the smoldering outrage of a proud nation. No images of weeping eagles, no photos of how the flags went up all over everything.
...
There were a lot of stills of Washington DC. Great classicism in architecture. Love it!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Becoming aware how dangerously close I am to violating my own blog policy (linked right), I am finally posting today.
...
On Sunday while returning Library books I ran into a girl I got to know in high school. Then later, we were both attending Pitt at the same time. I'd see her around campus, often with her bf Nick in tow, and we'd stop and chat. Until I spotted her on my way out I hadn't seen (or thought) of her since 1997. That is to say, it had been ten years. I walked up and introduced myself and realized she was holding her one-year-old and she leaned back to pulled Nick over to say hello. They're married now. She quit her job in sales and he's an attorney now.
We chatted and gossiped and caught up. And then I checked out my books and left and and for the rest of the day felt sort of thunderstruck.
...
Walking home from the bus stop (pictured right) felt surreal last night. It was 6:30 PM with broad daylight. And it was cold and overcast - terribly dreary. On the first block I lent a perfect stranger the use of my cellphone to make a frivolous phone call - something I hate to do. While I made my way down the street everything in that light looked completely shoddy, dilapidated, and dirty. It was fucking miserable. That was a gloomy Monday.
...
On Sunday while returning Library books I ran into a girl I got to know in high school. Then later, we were both attending Pitt at the same time. I'd see her around campus, often with her bf Nick in tow, and we'd stop and chat. Until I spotted her on my way out I hadn't seen (or thought) of her since 1997. That is to say, it had been ten years. I walked up and introduced myself and realized she was holding her one-year-old and she leaned back to pulled Nick over to say hello. They're married now. She quit her job in sales and he's an attorney now.
We chatted and gossiped and caught up. And then I checked out my books and left and and for the rest of the day felt sort of thunderstruck.
...
Walking home from the bus stop (pictured right) felt surreal last night. It was 6:30 PM with broad daylight. And it was cold and overcast - terribly dreary. On the first block I lent a perfect stranger the use of my cellphone to make a frivolous phone call - something I hate to do. While I made my way down the street everything in that light looked completely shoddy, dilapidated, and dirty. It was fucking miserable. That was a gloomy Monday.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Why I Should Stop Watching Lost
Remember how Charlie, the drug-addict rockstar, was in the underwater radio-jamming station with Desmond, the pyschic future-seer who had been helping him avoid death all season, while Jack was at the radio beacon with everyone and the "others" trying to connect with the rescuers sent by Penelope who were possibly "other others" even worse than the "others"?
Remember how Charlie, the drug-addict rockstar, was in the underwater radio-jamming station with Desmond, the pyschic future-seer who had been helping him avoid death all season, while Jack was at the radio beacon with everyone and the "others" trying to connect with the rescuers sent by Penelope who were possibly "other others" even worse than the "others"?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
With gramps. Paris, 2002.
...
I just showed this photo to a girl here at work. She took a quick glance and looked up: "what's this? Are you guys smoking?"
...
Looking closer, I see that, yes, we seem to be preparing to smoke. He's holding a lighter. There is a pack on the table. Looking even closer I see three drinks on the table. Ray's coffee, my beer bottle, and mom's glass of wine. She isn't in the picture because she's holding the camera.
Friday, January 18, 2008
I finally got myself a sofa. I could have got something nicer. I could have done a lot of comparison shopping with other better, more expensive stores. And I should have compiled a matrix of trade offs, such that up-front, there would be no risk of saline regret. Instead, I just went to Ikea and it was delivered this week. With the matching footstool, it took a while to assemble!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The cable guy came over and hooked me up last night. It's been a few years and things have changed. HDTV is nice, and with HBO, you now get a roster of "On Demand" movies. I watched Brokeback Mountain last nite.
Two Things to say about that:
1. It wasn't the full-on kisses, or the unorthodox western setting that stuck out for me. What I found particularly resonant were the strained moments, like when Jake's character is rebuffed by the rodeo rider, or the palpable contempt displayed by his father when Heath's character visits the parents after his death.
2. I completely missed the symbolism of the shirts when I first saw the film in the theater. During Heath's visit he finds two shirts of theirs hanging in a closet, one inside the other. Later, we see the layering reversed.
Two Things to say about that:
1. It wasn't the full-on kisses, or the unorthodox western setting that stuck out for me. What I found particularly resonant were the strained moments, like when Jake's character is rebuffed by the rodeo rider, or the palpable contempt displayed by his father when Heath's character visits the parents after his death.
2. I completely missed the symbolism of the shirts when I first saw the film in the theater. During Heath's visit he finds two shirts of theirs hanging in a closet, one inside the other. Later, we see the layering reversed.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Thank god the holidays are over. I didn't worry about them at all and did what I wanted, which was not much considering the 11 days off work. I took my horn on Xmas eve. My dad played piano and there was festive Christmas music. It was lively and fun.
I went out to see the terminally ill uncle, who needed some visiting. He was in great spirits for a man who just booked his own funeral at age 56.
I took a day to go into new york city on a jersey transit train. It was the Friday after Christmas and the train was packed with families and, ugh, children. In seats near me I could hear a lady handing out snacks. One of the kids began to whine after he dropped his sandwich. She asks if it's salvageable under the 5-second rule. A guy near by: "it shrinks to the .5 second rule on the train".
...
When I got back from the city I just hung out at his apartment. It was dark out. With the window cracked the room echoed with the Doppler, gray noise of tires on the wet pavement outside. The room was still. He wouldn't eat.
Driving back on the turnpike the next day, it was a clear blue sky; sunlight and leafless mountains.
...
I got to go to St. Marks Bookshop, which was nice. After seeing I am Legend, I wanted to see if there is a real red row house at 11 Washington Square. But I got distracted by a gaggle of hipsterboy clones with their skinny jeans, colored Nike's and lightly bearded chins. So cute! And nearby: why are you guys carrying shopping bags from those lamo stores??? Oh, you're Italian tourists!
I did noticed some doorways similar to the ones in the movie on the square and made my way to St. Marks. The last time I was there the clerk emitted a snicker with his body language about ringing up Badiou and the Butt book in one purchase. I was gruff back at the time. This is serious stuff! My books!
I didn't have time to browse for very long. I had to get uptown to the Greek and Roman galleries at the Met, which was neat and very busy. A little over an hour there with admission and audio guide set me back 27 bucks, worth it though.
I went out to see the terminally ill uncle, who needed some visiting. He was in great spirits for a man who just booked his own funeral at age 56.
I took a day to go into new york city on a jersey transit train. It was the Friday after Christmas and the train was packed with families and, ugh, children. In seats near me I could hear a lady handing out snacks. One of the kids began to whine after he dropped his sandwich. She asks if it's salvageable under the 5-second rule. A guy near by: "it shrinks to the .5 second rule on the train".
...
When I got back from the city I just hung out at his apartment. It was dark out. With the window cracked the room echoed with the Doppler, gray noise of tires on the wet pavement outside. The room was still. He wouldn't eat.
Driving back on the turnpike the next day, it was a clear blue sky; sunlight and leafless mountains.
...
I got to go to St. Marks Bookshop, which was nice. After seeing I am Legend, I wanted to see if there is a real red row house at 11 Washington Square. But I got distracted by a gaggle of hipsterboy clones with their skinny jeans, colored Nike's and lightly bearded chins. So cute! And nearby: why are you guys carrying shopping bags from those lamo stores??? Oh, you're Italian tourists!
I did noticed some doorways similar to the ones in the movie on the square and made my way to St. Marks. The last time I was there the clerk emitted a snicker with his body language about ringing up Badiou and the Butt book in one purchase. I was gruff back at the time. This is serious stuff! My books!
I didn't have time to browse for very long. I had to get uptown to the Greek and Roman galleries at the Met, which was neat and very busy. A little over an hour there with admission and audio guide set me back 27 bucks, worth it though.
Monday, December 10, 2007
I went over all the episodes from season 2 of Rome this weekend. I felt a little dirty after enduring the dirty scenes inserted just to remind you that it was HBO, the gratuitous sex, the jugs in your face. But I must say that after reading up on events of the era it covers (Julius Caesars Gallic victories thru Octavian's victory at Actium) it seems to cover most of the events with fidelity to the sources, with albeit hyperbolic dramatic license at times.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
There's an essay in Paper Monument, Clocking Out, that I just love, by J.D. Daniels. It's stuck in my head and I've gone back over it a few times, my favorite part:
I do not disown what is base in me, or basic—what is primal, or primary. But an edifice ought to be built on that foundation; and, construction having commenced, a man can say of what is base: This is beneath me.
And I like the Apollo/Dionysus stuff too.
...
Monday, December 03, 2007
My roof is almost done. It's been dragging on for a while now. I have found that all the cliches about contractors are true. Since I concentrated in construction management for my BS in engineering, I'd like to think I know something about such processes, but all I have is book knowledge and the impressions from my instructors. And this project is not a large one. And I'm obsessing about little details and second guessing myself about what issues to raise given my limited experience in such things. I went over my project management books* and thought, sheesh, I should've done this, or that. It's almost over thank god. I can say I got a pretty good roof at a reasonable cost, but I have nagging doubts over various quality issues.
...
I'm not going to get stressed or busy about the holiday this year. It's not my problem.
...
Sinking into a winter gloom, which is nice, actually**. I can't take the pace that warm weather induces. I've been eating carelessly and resigned my gym membership for a short break until the new year. My stylist Danielle was anticipating a beard, a form of tacit permission, so I've permitted facial hair to grow. It won't be Marxist, but won't be a 5 o'clock shadow either.
*My books from the 90s*** looked so dated. At the library last week I checked out a book on TQM (Total Quality Management). Dated. And boring. Fluffy upper management speak like ted.com has to stay new.
**I've been noting the use of the word "actually" as verbal punctuation. It can come off a little condescending, but when used to intone a set of implicit expectations can relay a great sense of courtesy.
***Nostalgia for office technology. I used to carry a paper weekly planner, and take pictures on 35mm and slide film. I always had a stapler and binder and paper clips on me. I still have a nice compass for drawing perfect circles. All this has vanished. I just tossed all my bank statements from the 90s; it's all online.
...
I'm not going to get stressed or busy about the holiday this year. It's not my problem.
...
Sinking into a winter gloom, which is nice, actually**. I can't take the pace that warm weather induces. I've been eating carelessly and resigned my gym membership for a short break until the new year. My stylist Danielle was anticipating a beard, a form of tacit permission, so I've permitted facial hair to grow. It won't be Marxist, but won't be a 5 o'clock shadow either.
*My books from the 90s*** looked so dated. At the library last week I checked out a book on TQM (Total Quality Management). Dated. And boring. Fluffy upper management speak like ted.com has to stay new.
**I've been noting the use of the word "actually" as verbal punctuation. It can come off a little condescending, but when used to intone a set of implicit expectations can relay a great sense of courtesy.
***Nostalgia for office technology. I used to carry a paper weekly planner, and take pictures on 35mm and slide film. I always had a stapler and binder and paper clips on me. I still have a nice compass for drawing perfect circles. All this has vanished. I just tossed all my bank statements from the 90s; it's all online.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Nice long weekend. I repainted my living room and bathroom. For some reason I used to think of painting a room as being a quick and easy task. It's not. But it sure looks nice after a fresh coat. Another 5 years of dirt neatly hidden under a thin white film.
The bathroom was arbitrarily off-white. I remember my boyfriend at the time mixing some tan paint intended for the trim into a can of white wall paint and using it to cover the bathroom walls. The bathroom is now white.
...
At Thanksgiving I looked across the table and there were so many bright eyeballs. My nephews were neatly seated to my dads right and left. My mom playing peak-a-boo with the 6mo. old in the middle of the turkey dinner, the 2 year old babbling during grace.
...
I think Halloween was on a Tuesday and a girl here at work was excited for the night. She wanted to know what my plans were: return my library books. It's a pain to go over to Oakland, but the Carnegie Library Main branch is built like a pallazo fit for a rich industrialist. I've been to Carnegie's 5th Avenue mansion in New York City. It's actually not as grand as the library though. A polychrome marble foyer, a set of grand marble staircases, a high vaulted coffered ceiling in one of the upstairs reading rooms, and classical mouldings throughout. The stacks are scrunched in a multilevel cellbock with glass floors. It sounds wierd. It is.
The bathroom was arbitrarily off-white. I remember my boyfriend at the time mixing some tan paint intended for the trim into a can of white wall paint and using it to cover the bathroom walls. The bathroom is now white.
...
At Thanksgiving I looked across the table and there were so many bright eyeballs. My nephews were neatly seated to my dads right and left. My mom playing peak-a-boo with the 6mo. old in the middle of the turkey dinner, the 2 year old babbling during grace.
...
I think Halloween was on a Tuesday and a girl here at work was excited for the night. She wanted to know what my plans were: return my library books. It's a pain to go over to Oakland, but the Carnegie Library Main branch is built like a pallazo fit for a rich industrialist. I've been to Carnegie's 5th Avenue mansion in New York City. It's actually not as grand as the library though. A polychrome marble foyer, a set of grand marble staircases, a high vaulted coffered ceiling in one of the upstairs reading rooms, and classical mouldings throughout. The stacks are scrunched in a multilevel cellbock with glass floors. It sounds wierd. It is.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
I used to have cable TV. My last place was an apartment I liked and it was warm in the winter and close to the bus stop. It's been almost five years since I moved. I especially liked having HBO and the other premium channels. It seemed like there was always something on . It was nice. Since then, I haven't had cable, but I'm thinking about getting it again. I don't miss it; and I can profess smugly that I'm unwired from that zone. Enjoying TV and keeping a sharp edge on an ability to think critically can be tough. I'm hoping I'm up to it - if I ever get cable again.
...
Until I started reading up on him I was not aware that Alexander the Great engaged in such brutality. He slaughtered the male populations of entire cities and sold the women and children into slavery, and somehow, didn't get a bad rap - I mean, he's still called the "the great" and everything.
...
Alexander conquered his way across modern-day Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Afaghanistan, and beyond and made it all look easy. While today, a good 23 centures later, Iraq remains a messy situation.
...
Until I started reading up on him I was not aware that Alexander the Great engaged in such brutality. He slaughtered the male populations of entire cities and sold the women and children into slavery, and somehow, didn't get a bad rap - I mean, he's still called the "the great" and everything.
...
Alexander conquered his way across modern-day Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Afaghanistan, and beyond and made it all look easy. While today, a good 23 centures later, Iraq remains a messy situation.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Two Pet Peeves
1. My skin crawls when I read the verb "peer" in a newspaper or a caption. It sounds cutesy to me. It's almost as bad as indicating in a caption that one of the pictured is "looking on". No shit? I can see that.
2. Inextricably linked. Ugh. There is pleasant repetition in the short 'i' sound, but the words appear together way too frequently. Besides, a real link is beyond notions of entanglement. I propose: "necessarily linked", or "clearly connected".
...
I'm having a new roof put on my house. Around 8 each morning a bunch of guys start clanking around outside. It's a change. I like getting things done. Also, the crack house behind my house is being rehabbed and is due to look nice soon. Let gentrification proceed faster.
1. My skin crawls when I read the verb "peer" in a newspaper or a caption. It sounds cutesy to me. It's almost as bad as indicating in a caption that one of the pictured is "looking on". No shit? I can see that.
2. Inextricably linked. Ugh. There is pleasant repetition in the short 'i' sound, but the words appear together way too frequently. Besides, a real link is beyond notions of entanglement. I propose: "necessarily linked", or "clearly connected".
...
I'm having a new roof put on my house. Around 8 each morning a bunch of guys start clanking around outside. It's a change. I like getting things done. Also, the crack house behind my house is being rehabbed and is due to look nice soon. Let gentrification proceed faster.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Another summer has passed. It was a nice one. They used to seem so long. Not anymore. I'd wrap myself among the starchy creases of Autumn, out of which I'd wrench drippings of sentimental longing and a gnawing dread for the coming cold - and exams too. Yes, this makes no sense.
That's all over, thank God! I have purged myself of the sin of hyperbolic emotiveness. And nostalgia too!!
...
My grandpap, my dad's dad, was an auto worker for GM. There was a body plant here in Pittsburgh where he operated the large presses that turned sheet metal into hoods and fenders and such. He retired in 1980 after 25 years or so. I remember sometime thereafter him taking me as a boy (on a school day) to the factory on some kind of kids day or something. He took me out on the shop floor where he seemed to be friends with everyone. People actually lifted sheets of metal onto the presses, then punched a button, and after a rumble a new auto body part was lifted with both hands onto a conveyor. All this was done by real live people at the time.
It was where he collected the paychecks that paid for the life that he made; the new cookie cutter suburban house, the cars, and all the stuff needed by all the kids. The idea of having 4 kids nowadays seems preposterous. But they actually did that kind of thing at that time.
A catholic, a nondrinker and nonsmoker. Who new he had a taste for the ornate? In his retirement, behind the house he created terraced gardens, symmetries of hedges and a fountain, behind which rose a cast concrete statue of a girl. To me growing up, it all seemed to suggest the good life. It may have been laughable. I don't know.
There's a picture of him in uniform during the war. Grinning, confident. The peak of form. He was a young a man once. The plant, the fountain - and he himself, for years and years now, have been gone.
...
I try not to read the New York Times. After reading a story or two it seems to convince me that I am a smart person, a remarkable feat of illusion. Because I know it's not true. I'm not nearly as smart or rich or famous as it seems to imply.
But the pictures are so pretty, and my heartstrings may be pulled, but never yanked, like they are by NPR. So I guess I'll keep checking in.
That's all over, thank God! I have purged myself of the sin of hyperbolic emotiveness. And nostalgia too!!
...
My grandpap, my dad's dad, was an auto worker for GM. There was a body plant here in Pittsburgh where he operated the large presses that turned sheet metal into hoods and fenders and such. He retired in 1980 after 25 years or so. I remember sometime thereafter him taking me as a boy (on a school day) to the factory on some kind of kids day or something. He took me out on the shop floor where he seemed to be friends with everyone. People actually lifted sheets of metal onto the presses, then punched a button, and after a rumble a new auto body part was lifted with both hands onto a conveyor. All this was done by real live people at the time.
It was where he collected the paychecks that paid for the life that he made; the new cookie cutter suburban house, the cars, and all the stuff needed by all the kids. The idea of having 4 kids nowadays seems preposterous. But they actually did that kind of thing at that time.
A catholic, a nondrinker and nonsmoker. Who new he had a taste for the ornate? In his retirement, behind the house he created terraced gardens, symmetries of hedges and a fountain, behind which rose a cast concrete statue of a girl. To me growing up, it all seemed to suggest the good life. It may have been laughable. I don't know.
There's a picture of him in uniform during the war. Grinning, confident. The peak of form. He was a young a man once. The plant, the fountain - and he himself, for years and years now, have been gone.
...
I try not to read the New York Times. After reading a story or two it seems to convince me that I am a smart person, a remarkable feat of illusion. Because I know it's not true. I'm not nearly as smart or rich or famous as it seems to imply.
But the pictures are so pretty, and my heartstrings may be pulled, but never yanked, like they are by NPR. So I guess I'll keep checking in.
Friday, September 14, 2007
So I got to go to Rome. It was a nice trip. I've been saving for some time for a trip to Italy and it finally went through. It coalesced a little sooner than I expected. And once I was there, it almost seemed to have been easily effectuated.
It was certainly not cheap. Rome is expensive by any standards and has a long history of creative methods of emptying visitors' pockets. It didn't help that everything costs a little extra due to the relative weakness of the US Dollar to the Euro right now. On top of that, to finalize the trip given a number of time constraints, I ended up having to purchase tickets at the very highest pricing tier. It would have been nice to get a bargain airfare, but I'm reminded of something I read yesterday that states to the effect that bargain tickets are not really a bargain at all if their existence lies outside the realm of logistical possibility. Overall, I didn't go too far over budget that I'd established before leaving, so I can't complain.
...
One of my goals was to prevent the trip from getting snagged in the trappings of the tourism industry; to make sure I toured the best of the city in a singular manner. The stands groaning with trays, snow globes, and figurines appeared with predictable frequency. And at times I would look around and find myself completely surrounded by other chirping Americans, similarly equipped with a travel guide in one hand, and a camera strap around the wrist.
We got sucked into a tourist trap cafe on the last night. The food was bad, but a fabulously romantic backdrop of the battered but dramatically illuminated Pantheon, was, as if to counterbalance, graciously provided.
...
On a warm Sunday night the Campo de' Fiori becomes a promenade and crossroads in the medieval part of town and was a nice place to rest at a cafe. It looked just like this. I saw a number of women strutting arm-in-arm in high boots. The more provocatively the girls would dress, the more intimate and synchronized was their lockstep. There were packs of young men cruising around. Everyone seemed to have such Mediterranean good looks with dark skin and hair, and a calm, breezy demeanor. As soon as I got back to the states everyone looked a little too pink, plump and blond.
...
What else? I was concerned about the weather, that it would be too muggy, but it was perfect. Clear blue skies every day. There were only two things I'd scheduled: the Vatican Museum + St. peters, and the tickets to Galleria Borghese. The hotel was decent, if a bit past it's prime, and not in the nicest area, but close to the metro. After all that art and culture, not to mention how sore my feet were, the last day was spent in Ostia and we lounged for a couple of hours in the sun. I got to swim in the Tyrrhenian Sea. The water was a deep blue.
...
St. Peters Basilica is even larger and more magnificent than I expected. It's really overwhelming. I expected the square and collonade in front to be a bit more gemeutlich, but the guided tour was conducted in a reverse order of sorts: Museum -> Sistine Chapel -> Basilica -> Square. I did not find the Sistine Chapel to be an overrated work of art. It's hard to look at the human physique in the same way after seeing it. The basilica is an extravaganza of sumptuous details and is titanic in scale. The gilded detail of the vaults and the patterns in the polished marble creates a hypnotic effect. The design vocabulary of classical orders is misleading. You've seen these architectural details before - but never so large.
...
I'm left longing to visit the Mediterranean again, but spend more time. This trip lasted 4 nights.
It was certainly not cheap. Rome is expensive by any standards and has a long history of creative methods of emptying visitors' pockets. It didn't help that everything costs a little extra due to the relative weakness of the US Dollar to the Euro right now. On top of that, to finalize the trip given a number of time constraints, I ended up having to purchase tickets at the very highest pricing tier. It would have been nice to get a bargain airfare, but I'm reminded of something I read yesterday that states to the effect that bargain tickets are not really a bargain at all if their existence lies outside the realm of logistical possibility. Overall, I didn't go too far over budget that I'd established before leaving, so I can't complain.
...
One of my goals was to prevent the trip from getting snagged in the trappings of the tourism industry; to make sure I toured the best of the city in a singular manner. The stands groaning with trays, snow globes, and figurines appeared with predictable frequency. And at times I would look around and find myself completely surrounded by other chirping Americans, similarly equipped with a travel guide in one hand, and a camera strap around the wrist.
We got sucked into a tourist trap cafe on the last night. The food was bad, but a fabulously romantic backdrop of the battered but dramatically illuminated Pantheon, was, as if to counterbalance, graciously provided.
...
On a warm Sunday night the Campo de' Fiori becomes a promenade and crossroads in the medieval part of town and was a nice place to rest at a cafe. It looked just like this. I saw a number of women strutting arm-in-arm in high boots. The more provocatively the girls would dress, the more intimate and synchronized was their lockstep. There were packs of young men cruising around. Everyone seemed to have such Mediterranean good looks with dark skin and hair, and a calm, breezy demeanor. As soon as I got back to the states everyone looked a little too pink, plump and blond.
...
What else? I was concerned about the weather, that it would be too muggy, but it was perfect. Clear blue skies every day. There were only two things I'd scheduled: the Vatican Museum + St. peters, and the tickets to Galleria Borghese. The hotel was decent, if a bit past it's prime, and not in the nicest area, but close to the metro. After all that art and culture, not to mention how sore my feet were, the last day was spent in Ostia and we lounged for a couple of hours in the sun. I got to swim in the Tyrrhenian Sea. The water was a deep blue.
...
St. Peters Basilica is even larger and more magnificent than I expected. It's really overwhelming. I expected the square and collonade in front to be a bit more gemeutlich, but the guided tour was conducted in a reverse order of sorts: Museum -> Sistine Chapel -> Basilica -> Square. I did not find the Sistine Chapel to be an overrated work of art. It's hard to look at the human physique in the same way after seeing it. The basilica is an extravaganza of sumptuous details and is titanic in scale. The gilded detail of the vaults and the patterns in the polished marble creates a hypnotic effect. The design vocabulary of classical orders is misleading. You've seen these architectural details before - but never so large.
...
I'm left longing to visit the Mediterranean again, but spend more time. This trip lasted 4 nights.
Monday, September 10, 2007
I have real-live relations who are big fat hogs. I have a cousin who suffers from a not-so-rare condition that causes her to consume large amounts of pizza, ice cream, potato chips, soda pop, and french fries. She also goes out of her way to maintain a certain level of indolence. Consequently, the girl is huge. She is merely the most rotund of a number of rotund relations. There are others.
...
I took a few photos in Rome.
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I finished Claudius, the God. There's a quite a few fun moments of irony in the book, which made me giggle to myself.
...
I took a few photos in Rome.
...
I finished Claudius, the God. There's a quite a few fun moments of irony in the book, which made me giggle to myself.
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