Football, football, football

watched some the African Cup of Nations this evening. Although the second strings of both Cuinea and Tunisia were playing, the game was entertaining enough, but marred by a lack of tactical acumen (or should that be cynicism employed by European and South American teams). Then I happened upon this report from the BBC, suggesting that World Cup fever has slightly influenced the choice of films at this year's Berlinale. The final part of this post is unrelated to football. I watched Passer's Intimate Lighting, a classic (if somewhat short) piece of Czech New Wave film making. The essay on the site explains it far better than I ever could, but this film has an effortless charm. I know nothing about life in the Bohemian countryside, yet the gentle Chekhovian humour at work subtly contrasting the lives of the protagonists cannot fail to draw you in.

Anna Akhmatova

Он любил три вещи на свете:
За вечерней пенье, белых павлинов
И стертые карты Америки.
Не любил, когда плачут дети,
Не любил чая с малиной
И женской истерики
...А я была его женой.

9 ноября 1910, Киев

A man speaks...

Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About

Relationships, books, etc

interesting post I stumbled across: Dating Without Kundera at idlewords

Five books I have just read or am about to read

Miguel de Unamuno - Tragic Sense of Life
Bertrand Russell - In Praise of Idleness
The Desert Fathers - Sayings of Early Christian Monks
Karel Čapek - Notes from England
Harold Shukman (editor) - Redefining Stalinism

Reliving my youth

Got me a movie
I want you to know
Slicing up eyeballs
I want you to know
Girlie so groovy
I want you to know
Don’t know about you
But I am un chien andalusia
Wanna grow
Up to be
Be a debaser, debaser

Got me a movie
Ha ha ha ho
Slicing up eyeballs
Ha ha ha ho
Girlie so groovie
Ha ha ha ho
Don’t know about you
But I am un chien andalusia

Debaser

The Pixies

SSEES

I returned to SSEES for the first time in a couple of years for a business meeting today. The new building is magnificent - the atrium is an incredible feature and lets light into the whole library. In fact, the library was the main reason for the visit, and they kindly allowed me to have a wander around. The delightful smell of old Central/East European books (anyone who has visited the old SSEES library knows what I mean) remains, despite the new shelves and climate control and air conditioning.

Kung Fu Cow

movie here. Enjoy.

A guide

to Master and Margarita. And a Bulgakov encyclopedia (only in Russian, though...) And I met a German at Patriarch's Ponds in 1998 along with (the now on his way/in NZ) BiB.

Easy Chicken and Mushroom Risotto

4 chicken breasts
salt and pepper
Olive oil
1 onion finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon or so of parsley, finely chopped
275 g Arborio/ Carnaroli risotto rice
150 g mushrooms, halved
1.5 litres of boiling stock (ideally chicken)

what to do:

Preheat oven to 190°C
Brush a Pyrex or ceramic dish with olive oil and place in the oven.
Chop the chicken breast into 1 inch cubes. Brown them in olive oil in a frying pan, then add the onion, garlic and parsley and fry gently for 5 minutes - or until the onion has become translucent. At this point, fling the rice in too, and stir it all about too, making sure it gets a good coating of olive oil.
Add the mushrooms, and a third of the stock, stirring over a high heat until most of the stock is absorbed.
Now remove the heated dish from the oven, transfer the chicken, onion, garlic, mushrooms and rice to the dish. Pour over the remaining stock and give it a stir. Then put it back in the oven. Once the stock has come back to the boil, stir it again. It will now take 40-50 minutes to cook (depending on your oven). Give it a stir every 5 minutes and add more stock (if required). When most of the stock has been absorbed and the rice grains are tender (best to test with your mouth here), it is almost ready. Add a few blobs of butter and a good grated parmesan or pecorino at the end of the cooking time.
Serve (and enjoy).

At one o'clock

this morning I was sitting up flicking through the channels (as I tend to when I can't sleep), when I chanced upon Kafka on ITV2 or 3. A murder mystery (of sorts) with motifs (hark at me being all intellectual) from Kafka's novels recurring and Jeremy Irons playing the man himself. Dreadful. In so many ways. Prague did look absolutely magnificent on very high quality black and white stock, though.

Master i Margarita

is magnificent. Watched the first episode (chapter?) this evening, having, of course re-read the start of the book on the Tube. Ivan Bezdomny looks suitably like a muzhik. Berlioz is less bald but just as annoying as I had imagined. Woland is older than I had imagined. David Bowie had always been in my mind's eye, but I guess he doesn't speak Russkii. And he is a dreadful actor (apart from Labyrinth)... I'm off tomorrow, so I can do the whole thing. And without non-Russian speakers, so I won't have to explain what is going on constantly. And I may even try to go skating if the weather is OK. Or I may just go to bed. Now I am listening to some Roma music, one of the joys of my life. Ussa Sa by Acquaragia Ciocarlia from Italy has just wandered off into Katiusha. Absolute bliss.

Somewhere

There's a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us
Somewhere
There's a time for us
Someday a time for us
Time together with time to spare
Time to learn
Time to care
Someday, somewhere
We'll find a new way of living
We'll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere
There's a place for us
A time and a place for us
Hold my hand and we're half way there
Hold my hand
And I'll take you there
Somehow
Someday, somewhere

Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim

Pondering

Stefan Zweig. Looking for Notes from the Underground. Listening to Bill Fay. Surfing the Internet. Being annoyed by the washing machine. Trying to avoid doing the cleaning. Thinking I should write a Russian cookbook called Zakuski iz podpol'ia (Spas bolsh, Dezik). Drinking Staropramen. Shivering slightly. Putting the heating on. Friday night.

Curse Outlook Express

I have just lost a couple of hundred word post on Stefan Zweig due to the effects of Mr Gates accursed mail program crashing my machine.

A bit of Bilibin

on a Soviet stamp



Taken from www.stamprussia.com.

I had been looking for a still from Medvedkin's "Happiness", but there seem to be none on the Interweb, so I though Bilibin's style would illustrate the pseudo-fairytale (is that a word?) nature of the Russian landscape perfectly...

Marc Bolan

Whilst travelling back from Brixton to Ealing this afternoon, we somehow managed to cros the Thames 3 times (due to my complete lack of directional ability once I travel south of the river. I had already passed through Barnes on my way down to Brixton, but this time we passed the Marc Bolan Memorial, still covered in handmade tributes some 28 years after his death. Fans still risk their lives to post these tributes - there is no pavement, and despite traffic-calming measures, the cars still race down the road. I assume many of the people posting these tributes must be fans from the 1970's now in their late 30's or early 40's now. T-Rex had always seemed to me to be a second-rate hippy/glam rock band who had a hit on the back of a Levi's ad about ten years ago, but he/they still seem to inspire dedication from fans. Such are the mysteries of fame.

Czech animation

is rather good. Certainly better than the British rubbish I was exposed to over Xmas. I have to admit that I approached a the DVD of Werich's Fimfárum with more than a little trepidation. I enjoyed Svankmajer's mix of animation and live-action in Conspirators of Pleasure tremendously, but my main memories of Czech cartoons were as a child in the 1980's, when shorts from beyond the Iron Curtain would be shown on BBC2 (as parodied by the 'Worker and Parasite' cartoon (thanks to Boing Boing) that replaces Itchy & Scratchy in the 'Krusty Gets Cancelled' episode of The Simpsons). Anyway, to return to the point, the DVD is bliss. The first film, about a farmer who makes deals with devil, is beautifully animated, full of drunken Czechs (I am utterly convinced that children's culture, be it cartoons, books, songs, or whatever, is truly the way to enage with a culture - or maybe I'm just tragically immature). The visions of hell that Cupera passes through to stop drinking are truly inspired, and the Devil (when he appears), naturally has a foreign accent (a la Woland in M&M, and probably many other literary manifestations of Beelzebub - those of you far better read than myself can advise). There are another four animation for me to work my way through, and I shall try to post reviewettes once I have watched them.

Burnt by the Sun

is the DVD I watched this evening. I last watched it five years ago, as part of a SSEES course on Soviet cinema. I had avoided re-viewing in this period due to my antipathy towards dear Mr Mikhalkov, or rather to the cloying, overly-romanticised view of pre-Revolutionary Russian society he employs in both this film and "Unfinished Piece for Mechanical Piano". I found his depiction of life on the periphery of Russia/the Soviet Union, in "Urga" to be utterly fascinating, especially the focus on the two protagonists as representatives of lifestyles/philosophies/empires in terminal decline. Anyway, to return to the point, this film moved me emotionally far more this time than last - partly, I think, because I now know far more about the Purges (in fact, Burnt by the Sun and my favourite film ever, German's "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" both capture the bizarre paranoid claustrophobic atmosphere as the Purges began perfectly). However, and more disconcertingly, I was most taken by the relationship between Kotov and his daughter (or should that be Mikhalkov and his daughter) - especially the scene between them as he dresses before leaving with Mitia. I think this may be due to the onset of middle-age.

Dust Filled Room

She sat smoking a cigarette
The fire on her legs
In the dust filled room she wished that the cigarette could last forever

But the fire died down and the cigarette burned out
And the room grew dark and she got up
And went out to see once again what it was that was outside

Oh I know that chair I’ve sat there
As one goes out another one sits down
In the dust filled room they wish that the cigarette could last forever

Bill Fay, from the album Time of the Last Persecution

Does anyone know

anything about the mysterious Gaydamaks poised to take over my hometown's team? The father apparently owns Moskovskiye novosti, wants to run in the Israeli elections, and has had questioned raised about money laundering and arms trading.

Back to work

in ten hours;( NYE went well (I think). I have very hazy memories after my third (or was it fourth) pint of Guinness. Shame it takes so long to recover, although I guess that has to do with the onset of old age. I have no New Year's Resolutions to share with you - exercising more doesn't really appeal. I eat pretty healthily already. Don't smoke (really). I enjoy drinking a little too much to stop that. Any suggestions would be greatfully received...

Photos from the pub may follow. I vaguely remember cameras of the digital persuasion being passed around. So prepare yourselves... Thank you to my co-DJ's/slaves who made sure the evening went with a bang...