Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Same procedure as every year

If counted well the Germans today can watch Dinner for one (The 90th birthday) - history here - twelve times at different times on various TV-channels.
Very strange folks, the Germans.
Well, judge for yourself.

Tiny tip-off: Be absolutely determined not to laugh.


Friday, December 26, 2008

On Harold Pinter in Every-Man's Land

Nobel Lecture: Arts, Truth & Politics Warning: The above is nothing for contemporaries who 'have no(t 46 minutes) time for such things'. Brief personal note, especially for those ... experts who got het up when Harold Pinter in 2005 was awarded the Nobelprize: Once in the 70th of the past millennium two outstanding performances of No-Man's Land made me curious to read Pinter's plays: One in the Old Vic (London) with (Sir) John Gielgud as Spooner and Ralph Richardson as Hirst, the other in Schloßpark Theater (Berlin) with Martin Held (Hirst) and Bernhard Minetti (Spooner). If any ... expert had asked me then, f.e. 'Who's better - Nobel Laureate Thomas Mann or Harold Pinter?' - my answer had not been 'Thomas Mann'. Well, the two gentlemen may discuss this in 'Every-Man's Land'. D.i.P. [Discuss in Peace]

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Sometimes one has to be cruel

Yesterday, watching an interview with Marlene Dumas on her exhibition Measuring Your Own Grave, the last sentence read:

"You have to be cruel - against yourself ... and others."

And I thought by myself: Hm. Yes. Sometimes.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Un bel di vedremo

Ying Huang as Madame Butterfly



On the 150th birthday of Giacomo Puccini.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

In the web of Circe's daughters

Once upon a time, deep in the past millennium, Mrs. J - at that time Miss E. - and I, one day after our engament-party, in Miss E's R4 crossed the Channel to visit our dear friend J.
To cut a lovely and long story short: After a magic fortnight, J. presented me a dish-towel containing following prophesy:
It starts when
you sink
into her arms,
and it ends
with your arms
in the sink.
Don't know why, but at that time I did not take notice of that Miss E. was laughing a bit louder than me, and that there was a certain sparkling in her eyes.

End of the beforegoing.

Two weeks ago the former Miss E., now Mrs. J., and Miss J. kept me busy with washing up, as they were baking twelve different kinds of cookies all Saturday and Sunday.
And what shall I say? They knew to make me feel a very important person.
- Great, Sean, you are faster than any dishwasher.
- Popoye [not Popeye!!], would you like to taste a champagne-cookie?
- Without you, Sean / Popoye [not Popeye!!] baking would be really boring.

Well, it might have been tactic -
αἰεὶ δὲ μαλακοῖσι καὶ αἱμυλιοῖσι λογοῖσι θέλγει :) - but one thing is for sure: If Circe's daughters had done the washing-up, the result of the baking would have been exciting.

Just a tiny selection

Well, and last Saturday Mrs. J made three marvellous cakes / tortes (?) to spoil her Mum and the five ladies she had invited for Sunday afternoon. And again my arms ended in the sink.

20 hours later: 491 years happily sitting in one room, and how lovely to hear the girls chirping like birdies, enjoying to get served like Queens. And how flattering to hear them praising Mrs. J's art of baking. And how ... err ... polite none of the ladies would ask why their charming waiter had webs between his wizened fingers.


All this just to let you know that said webs have almost disappeared, and I am back again.