Wage slave

Not that I, in any way, fancy the ideologies of the leftists but sometimes work can really make you feel a wage slave – a modern term for a human machine and a concept which often carries all the load of criticism re: capitalism. This reminded me of the two minute monologue Norman Lowell did in a recent interview he had with some maltafly guy. He couldn't explain it better…

A less explicit (and somewhat more liberal) approach was done by a brit-rock band, Placebo in their album “Black Market Music” of which I'm a proud owner:

Run Away From All Your Boredom
run Away From All Your Whoredom
and Wave Your Worries
and Cares Goodbye

all It Takes Is One Decision
a Lot Of Guts
a Little Vision
to Wave Your Worries
and Cares Goodbye
sick And Tired Of Maggie's Farm
she's A Bitch With Broken Arms
it's A Maze For Rats To Try
and Its A Race For Rats To Die
run Away

Dancing days

Not that I ever knew how to dance properly and not let half the audience laugh their heads off. But anyway, I was referring to my University days, 2000 - 2003.

Tomorrow there will be the graduation mass at St. John's Cathedral in Valletta, followed by the usual series of graduation ceremonies. All this hype reminded of my own ceremony. It was one of the saddest festives that I ever went through... celebrating nothingness - I was unemployed, no interviews, no prospectives, no money and my results didn't leave room for any dream jobs - and yet I was gonna graduate! Oh you know, the irony...

Anyone saw The Graduate? A 1967 film featuring the instability fresh graduates go through in their youth when they have to disassociate themselves from the hippie University life and immerse themselves in the abyss of the working class. Dustin Hoffman delivered an excellent performance and I happened to watch this flick exactly during my post-graduate blues. Thing is, I was never that rich and no mature woman would ever dream of flirting with me. Lucky you, Benjamin...

I fished into my 4 year old hard-disk and found some sketches/scribbling I used to do to slay an hour or two during some boring economics lesson.

Those were the days... careless, scruffy, rock, znuber and tasteless junk food.

Everything's meant to be broken

Everything’s meant to be broken… yes indeed. It’s frustrating to notice how a single wound can sometimes have multiple repercussions and the way cracks seem to keep on stretching forever.

A single quiver and everything succumbs.

Morning hymn

Local radio stations are pedantic, especially between 7am and 9am. They all got devoured by the omni-present daily routine and won’t show any signs of anti-conformism, spontaneity or wit whatsoever (yes, I miss you Mr. Tanti). It’s the last thing you need after lack of sleep, puffy eyes and not having a substantially healthy breakfast. But today was different… well, at least for 5 minutes or so. The DJ had the pleasure to put on one of my favourite love songs of all time – To Love Somebody, the Michael Bolton version. There have been a couple of artists who interpreted the song, including the Bee Gees and Billy Corgan (I shall be dedicating a whole post to this formidable man, but the time is not yet ripe).

There’s a light
A certain kind of light
That never shone on me
I want my life to be
Lived with you, lived with you
There’s a way
Ev’rybody say
To do each and every little thing
But what does it bring
If I ain’t got you, ain’t got

You don’t know what it’s like
Baby, you don’t know what it’s like
To love somebody, to love somebody
The way I love you

In my brain
I see your face again
I know my frame of mind
You ain’t got to be so blind
And I’m blind, so very blind
I’m a man
Can’t you see what I am
I live and breathe for you
But what good does it do
If I ain’t got you, ain’t got you

You don’t know what it’s like
Baby, you don’t know what it’s like
To love somebody, to love somebody
The way I love you

Mid-dashboard

Kultant bilfors itik li titbissem. Tiftaħ id-dashboard u ssib senduq ta’ memorji (jien m’inix xi bniedem li nżomm il-karozza pinna; la min ġewwa u lanqas minn barra).

Kont qed ngħid fuq id-dashboard u l-affarijiet li sibt. Bejn arbre magique aħdar li telqitlu l-fwieħa, mappa qadima ta’ Malta u xi karta b’xi indirizzi li nsejt ta’ min huma, sibt postcard tal-intern tal-katidral ta’ San Ġwann tal-Belt Valletta. Il-kuluri, xi darba brillanti u saturati, issa donnhom inxtorbu mill-għeluq u d-dalma, speċjalment l-aħdar, l-aħmar u l-iswed. Forsi jbatu mill-klawstrofobija u raw kif għamlu u ħarbu. Tfaċċaw ukoll xi sinjali ta’ tinjiet fl-irkejjen tal-kartonċina u ftakart li wara kien hemm xi kitba miktuba bl-idejn. Dawwartha minnufih u …tbissimt.

Bi print kbira u rqiqa kelli wkoll dawn il-kelmiet: “Grazzi tad-donazzjoni tiegħek” li kienet ukoll translejtjata bit-taljan, franċiż u ġermaniż. Kien hemm ukoll impinġija fjura (mill-forma tagħha tidher li hi wardet ix-xemx) b’bajrow blu fuq il-g ta ‘grazzi’.

Dawk li jħufu l’hemm u l’hawn...

Kont għadni bilkemm qomt dalgħodu… jidhirli saħansitra kien għad kelli dak il-frak tedjanti li jkollok m’għajnejk eżatt wara li tqum, meta ħabbtet il-qanpiena tal-bieb. Ippruvajt nirranġa naqa surti (j'alla jekk kontx bix-shorts ta wara quddiem) ħalli ma jaħsbunix drugat u mort niftaħ.

Kienu ix-xhieda tal-Jehovah – issa dawn in-nies jien ma nafx eżatt fiex jemmnu u fiex ma jemmnux. Sa fejn naf jien it-tagħlim tagħhom huwa simili ħafna għal dak li tgħallem il-Knisja Kattolika, ma nafx x’kienet dik il-mibegħda bla qies li kienu jnibbtu fina il-qassissin u l-lajċi. Kienu tnejn – mara u raġel… ir-raġel kellu ingravata eżatt preċiż imqabbla mal-qmis, qisha għamlet xi camouflage... (?). Tani l-bonġu u newwilli ktejjeb żgħir f’idi u qagħad jispjegali kemm is-soċjetà sejra lura u kemm l-imħabba m’għandhiex tkun bil-paroli biss (bħallikieku ma kontx naf diga… bejn paroli u fatti hemm baħar jikkumbatti – ma niddejjaqx ngħid li għal darba f’ħajti niftakarni kont qsamtu dak il-baħar, tipo kif għamel Mosè lill-Baħar l-Aħmar biex jifdi lil Lhud)

Inzerta ġentili ħafna das-sinjur u wara xi tlett minuti jparla, hu u dik li kien hemm miegħu, parpru l’hemm. Ikolli ngħid qabbadni l-kurżità… min huma eżatt dal-kommunità ta’ nies li joqogħdu jħufu l’hemm u l’hawn fis-sigħat daqshekk kefrin tal-ħadd filgħodu?

Sibt dan:

A Christian group originating in the United States at the end of the 19th century., organized by Charles Taze Russell, whose doctrine centers on the Second Coming of Christ. The Witnesses believe that the event has already commenced; they also believe the battle of Armageddon is imminent and that it will be followed by a millennial period when repentant sinners will have a second chance for salvation. The Witnesses base their teaching on the Bible. They have no churches but meet in buildings that are always named Kingdom Hall. There are no official ministers because all Jehovah's Witnesses are considered ministers of the gospel. Their views are circulated in the Watchtower, Awake!, and other publications and by house-to-house canvasing carried on by members. Since their beginning, the Witnesses have been the subject of harassment virtually everywhere that they have been active. Regarding governments as the work of Satan, the Witnesses refuse to bear arms in war or participate in the affairs of government. Their refusal to salute the flag brought about a controversy that resulted in a decision in their favor by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1943. The Witnesses insist upon a rigid moral code and refuse blood transfusions. Before 1931, Jehovah's Witnesses were called Russellites; abroad the movement is usually known as the International Bible Students Association. Active in almost every country in the world, the group has more than 1 million members in the United States.

Silta meħuda minn answers.com.

Ma kkonvinċewni xejn (dik li ma jsellmux lil bandiera oriġinali pero)...

Lentille

“…the world is fine if seen through wine”

How true, how painfully true…

That citation welcomed an interestingly particular seminar to which I attended today. It was set in a rustic setting, surrounded by sky high roofs, yellowish maltese limestone and a glass of fine wine accompanying us through the evening.

The seminar dealt with photography as a career led by one of Malta’s leading photographers, Kevin Casha. His anthology of moments in life caught on lens would caress my eye all through the meeting while letting me enjoy an intense and passionate taste of dry red wine, carefully stored and handled.

Photography is made of too much intense elements for me to scribble a couple of words there and then which, in the end would be considered senseless compared to philosophical masterpeices which people wiser than myself have written about this tantalizing optic instrument. It’s a world of its own… a playground where everyone can play all day long, painting with light, freezing images, pleasing the eye, dancing with elegance…

Now you will probably get an idea why I choose my current username, lentille. And just to give you a tang of my zeal… take a look beneath.

Il-muniti tal-lampuka

Omm obeża: "Ara jfettilli narak tilgħab fuq xi kaxxa... il-flus użahom għal żaqqek!!"

It-tifla, li kienet obeża wkoll, baxxet rasha u ma qalet xejn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din hija diskursata li min jaf kemm-il darba smajt qabel ma beda jfiġġli l-ewwel xaghar pubiku. Ommi kienet ittini xi erba' xelini jċekċku u jien dejjem kont nispicca mwaħħal ma' xi kaxxa minn dawk li kien ikollhom hafna kuluri jteptu u gieli, jekk tkun fortunat li ommok titfgħak f'ħanut tal-liri, issibhom bis-sawnd sinkronizzat (għal min forsi għex tfulitu għaddej bil-lenti fuq il-bolol, qed nirreferi għall-video games).

Kienet iċċanfrani bl-ikrah meta kienet taqbadni nagħfas il-buttuni jew meta xi spjun immur ilablab li bqajt bil-ġuħ biex nitfa' il-munita tal-lampuka fix-xaqq u għoxejt x'ħin rajt 'press start to begin'.

Naf li ħafna minnkom probabbilment qed jaqblu m'ommi imma f'tentattiv miżeru li nbiddlilkom il-ħsieb, ħa nipprova niġġustifika ruħi b'dan ir-raġunament innoċċenti li madanakollu għalija jagħmel ċertu sens.

Tlaqna. Nassumu li għandek erba xelini fil-but (li illum jammontaw għal 20 ċ) u dawn bihom jew tilgħab żewġ logħbiet tal-kaxxa jew tixtri ġiex pakketti crisps. Jekk tixtri l-pakketti forsi l-aktar l-aktar tagħmel kwarta tikolhom. Timla' żaqqek (insomma... bil-crisps ma nafx kemm) u tgħaddi. Serraħt it-tgedwid ta żaqqek u daqshekk, jekk kont imdejjaq, tibqa' imdejjaq. Jekk pero tilgħab ġiex logħbiet, jekk xejn, isserraħ daqsxejn il-menti. U ma nafx intom, imma jien nippreferi kuntent u bil-ġuħ milli ħawsla mimlija u b'geddum sal-art. F'dawk il-ġiex logħbiet li kont nilgħab kont ninqata' daqsxejn mir-realta li kienet taħbat iddejjaqli l-ponta ta mnieħri u forsi dik li kienet issaqqi il-lublieba biex nibda nilgħab qisni tifel prototipu Amerikan. Id-distakk mir-realta'; il-possibilita li nagħmel affarijiet oltre il-kapaċitajiet tiegħi; il-fatt li jien kap tiegħi nnifsi; u fl-aħħar u mhux l-inqas, il-fatt li qatt ma ridt insir kartell...

Hazy

The following are the various isolated and unconnected items which I remember about last night:

a chap with mental retardation;

a messed up Alfa;

La Paz Wilde. 100% tobacco in robust shades of brown. Straight from the plantation. A unique character. A rich full taste. The Cigarro Auténtico!;

Smoking may reduce the blood flow and causes impotence;

shooters;

James Hetfield;

trio;

Tarxien;

moving streets.

Prologue

I have finally decided to open up a blog. Right? Wrong? I don't know... rationalism sometimes serves only to make you loose your sanity (in fact I spent around 20 minutes trying to select an appropriate username...)