You cut-throat, you! ...You're lucky I don't stuff your beard down your gullet! ...But get out, viper! And take care that you don't cross my path again! Sheer off, filibuster! Outz of my sight, you gallows bird! Baboon! ...Carpet Seller! Paranoiac! Pockmark! Cannibal! Duck-billed platypus! Jellied eel! Bashi-bazouk! Anthropophagus! Ceropithecus! Psychopath!
- Captain Haddock, in the French comic Tintin: The Red Sea Sharks
This morning, I recieved a couple emails from various French exchange groups regarding language-intensive summer programs. I'm pretty interested by the whole idea, but I had sort of already made a previous commitment to the closer (and substantially cheaper) summer music program at Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs.
It brought up an interesting dilemma for me, namely, what was more important for me? Of course, music trumped most things on my list, and French...well, not really. But just being abroad and learning French in France might be a totally different experience. Besides, I can stand 3 hours a day in Therese's class, two and a half hours a day shouldn't be that hard.
In any case, I'm going to France in May with the French trip. And don't get me wrong, I love the French language. I just don't like my French teacher.
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ANTWERP, Belgium (Reuters) - Mozart, an iguana with an erection that has lasted for over a week, will have his penis amputated in the next couple of days.
Veterinarians at Antwerp's Aquatopia had sought to treat the animal's problem, but decided removal was the only solution because of the risk of infection. The good news for Mozart and his mates is that male iguanas have two penises.
Mozart, sitting on the shoulders of his keeper as camera crews focused on his red, swollen erection, seemed unperturbed by the news.
"It doesn't bother him. He doesn't know what amputation means," said vet Luc Lambrecht, adding that Mozart's sexual activity should be undimmed by the operation.
© Reuters 2007. All Rights Reserved.__________
In case the header didn't strike you, don't give an iguana Viagra. They like having two penises. Just a little warning for you, in case you guys were thinking about it.
A little funny, when you think about the magnitude of fetish porn on the internet. I can only imagine the amount pertaining to anthropomorphic iguanas non-consensually giving it to hapless young blonde women who just happen to have 34DD breasts and a big tattoo across their spine and just above their ass.
Porn is such cheap shit.
Wanna see a weird movie that makes you really want to be a flying ninja?
Okay, so the ending's a little disappointing, and the plot's just absurd, but I find it typical of Chinese movies. The difference here, is that the fighting scenes are far more natural than other mainstream Asian films, and the cinematography is really a brilliant use of CGI.
That's where the film's high points really are: imagery and symbolism. The golden flower, the chrysanthemum, plays a thousand different roles in the film as the symbol for rebellion, particularly the final showdown scenes where the golden army's blood is spilled over a fresh bed of the flowers.
Go watch it. Next movie on my list is The Last King of Scotland.
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You know, speaking of form over function, Lukas, here's a little gadget that'll make you drool. Okay, so it's actually just a rebranded, souped up LG, but it's got the same features as Apple's new communication toy, it looks sexier than my bike, and it matches my favorite pants with the PRADA sign emblazoned underneath the camera.
And the beauty of it? It's less expensive than the nice pair of PRADA jeans and tight sweater I've been eyeing but will probably never attain. Form shouldn't exactly trump function, but never let school get in the way of your education.
Yeah, so um....fuck the iPhone?
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I cannot stress the beauty of French electronica that's not in French. Though French electronica that's in French is just as good.
Gotan Project - Santa Maria (rUmPeLsTiLtSkIn)
"Donc, mot...?"
Good evening, everyone.
Homework assigned to us for French V on Tuesday was a French analysis of Guilliame Apollinaire's Le Pont Mirabeau, a simply yet aesthetically beautiful poem about...well, that's up to interpretation. Doing poems is enjoyable, because not only do I love poems, but sometimes, it's a poem I know by heart, like this time. Thus, the work was relatively easy for me. Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passait
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
"Le Pont Mirabeau"
Apollinaire, Alcools (1912)
French poetry's not everyone's taste. It tries a little too hard to be profound sometimes, but I find that Apollinaire does a good job making sure that the interpretation works literally as well as symbolically.
For an English translation, see Sasha's page. I do believe, however, that poetry was not meant to be altered, changed, or translated in any shape or form. You want to read Mongolian poetry? Learn Mongolian. The concept of poetry was created not for just the meaning (which can also be undesirably altered during translation) but also the aesthetics of the words and phrases themselves.
If you want to hear the song, the one that's NOT by the Pogues, check out Sophie Auster. It's quirky, but it's definitely pretty.
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"If my penis were as big as my ego, I'd be King Kong."- Dylan JJ
So the uh, Physics midterm started today. First problem and I already skipped over it. Over at Sasha's house I began to calculate my grade if I say...uh, well forgot about the rest of the problems. When you start counting your score before you even finish the test, you know you're going to fail. Fail hard, too.I don't know why I brought this subject up. My guess was it's a combination of a couple things, from riding on the Montreal subway, to the quality of girls here, to excess spare time.
I figured that sex in a subway tunnel would be pretty erotic. But it'd have to be in a certain place. It couldn't just be anywhere. It'd have to be close to the trains, and it couldn't be too rough. The sweeter the better. Why? It's like public sex, except at the same time, the spectators are moving by too fast to know what's really going on.
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Ah, mon dieu. French jazz is so cool.
There's a unique sound here that you can't really find elsewhere in lyrics and in music itself. It's this quirky, smoky, more organic flavor of jazzmusique, too refined to be bebop and too avantgarde to be west coast. Exotique. The chanteuses are much prettier here too, in this more adorable, classier way.
It's the language too. Jazz was meant to be in French. You know, it's inexplicably cute, the way everything sounds better in French. French can turn the worst lyrics into an art. Ah, this music is so beautiful it makes me cry.
I think I'm falling in love...
