All entries for January 2005

January 31, 2005

Transvistition in progress…


'It's a tall order, but I'm taller'
I plan to become a more feminine female. I have already successfully adopted the coquette giggle and 'teethless' laughter which clash with my genuin personality so hard that it feels creepy coming from me. The next step will be adopting feminine language: 'FINE!', 'CUTE!', 'awww', 'lovely!!!', 'amazing!', etc… And of course, the colour preference – pink.

In a month's time I expect to become a monster with multipule personalities issues. Or just someone with behaviour so unbearably unsuitable for her character that it'll start scaring people. However, it shall be a very valueable experience.


January 25, 2005

Let's push things forward

The Streets
Let's push things forward

This ain't the down, it's the upbeat
Make it complete
So what's the story?
Guaranteed accuracy, enhanced CD
Latest technology, darts at Treble 20
Huge non-recuparable advance
Majors be vigilant
I excel in both content and deliverance
So let's put on our classics
And we'll ‘ave a little dance, shall we?
No sales pitch, no media hype
No hydro, it's nice and ripe
I speak in communication in bold type
This AIN’T yer archetypal street sound
Scan for ultrasounds North, South, East, West
And all round and then to the underground

You say that every thing sounds the same
Then you go buy them!
There's no excuses my friend
Let's push things forward

As we progress to the checkpoint
I wholeheartedly agree with yer viewpoint
But this ain't your typical Garage joint
I make points which hold significance
That ain't a bag, it's shipment
This ain't a track, it's a movement
I got the settlement
My frequencies are transient
And resonate your eardrums
I make bangers, not anthems
Leave that to the Artful Dodger
The broad shouldered 51% shareholder
You won't find us on Alta Vista
Cult classic, not bestseller
Your gonna need more power,
Plug in the freephase and the generator
Crank it up to the gigawatts
Critics ready with the potshots, the plot thickens
Put on yer mittens for these sub-zero conditions
But remember I'm just spittin',
Remember I'm just spittin'
Once bitten, forever smitten

You say that everything sounds the same
Then you go buy them!
There's no excuses my friend
Let's Push Things Forward

Spilt jewels like Eastern riches
Junkie fixes
Around 'ere we say birds, not bitches
As London Bridge burns down, Brixton's burning up
Turns out your in luck
Cos I know this dodgy fuck in The Duck
So it's just another showflick from your
Local City Poet
Case you geezers don't know it
Let’s Push Things Forward
It's a tall order, but we’re taller
Calling all maulers, backstreet brawlers
Cornershop crawlers, victory’s flawless
Love us or hate us, but don't slate us
Don't conform to formulas
Pop genres and such sharp darts, double Dutch
Parked cars, troubles a much with more Bud
Let's Push Things Forward

You say that everything sounds the same
Then you go i think
There's no excuses my friend
Let's Push Things Forward.


Infinity

It'll never add up to one…


January 21, 2005

Guano Apes – German toughness in English

Title:
Rating:
2 out of 5 stars
It's like Rammstein, but less feminine. Her music isn't touching. It shouts too loud to touch. It awakes the crazyness inside you; it pulls you down to Earth with the hoarse voice and shuffles the feelings. It's overly pop-rock, adopting features of R&B, imitating the femininity of Alanis Morrisette, trying to sound heavy and harsh and ending up with a scream too weak to impress.
However, there is an ugly beauty in her voice. A perculiar uniqueness in the tune. An unsuspected hypocracy in performance. It's an attempt I respect, but do not appreciate.

January 19, 2005

Brainwashed

Three good cups of coffee and a hudred Internet articles – that's what kept me awake the whole night. Now, how did I end up like this…

started off by looking at the University of Westminster's website
> thought I'd write something in Chinese for a change and started looking for pictures to illustrate the previous blog post to make up for the petty word count
> googled 'Russia China' and somehow found this picture from a user's livejournal
> read that and followed a link on it and read another livejournal, left a comment
> drifted smoothly to the Russianized Google, followed the links to weekly publications and online news websites
> spotted an article about obese people, gay people trying to get married, a French person who made friends with his transplated hands, went to a 'buddy-website' on a link
> read about the top 10 wealthy people in Russia (most of which aren't really Russian), "12 Things to say to women" (no comments), virus in mobile phones (I probably have got myself one – when I was in London in December someone tried to send me something via bluetooth and the same happened recently in Leamington, had to switch my phone off!), then switched to another website
> read about the explorations of Saturn (by Cassini) and proving Einstein's theory (by Gravity Probe B) in cosmos, also about the survivers of the tsunami seeing ghosts, yet another website

> screen adoptation of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita and the Church's protests againt it; brought up nostalgic feelings and Amazone'd and then Yandex'ed the book, but couldn't find anything pleasing
> read another article-review on a French theologist's book about Virgin Mary and her virginity and the overall significance of Mary, tried to find the book in Warwick library and not surprisingly failed.
> spotted another article about Kant and read through his biography and some quotes of his works. Googled for his quotes in English, but dissapointingly found only four of them.
> saw a disturbing picture of an exhumed lama whose body wouldn't rotten and read the whole article. Apparently the lama had given his body as a present to the rest and as a proof of accessibility of the state of Nirvana.
> realized it's 7 in the morning and the buses have recommenced the service.

And I shall now depart to bed. As Kant put it 'Thinking is talking and listening to oneself'. I'll go do that.


奇迹



这是杨璐璐历史上第一个中文网上日记。我强调,中文!我容易吗?我这都是为了什么?为了扫盲!为了驱除那个 "俄罗斯女人" 的阴影,在同学面前立一个新形象。说实在,难得很。我要写一篇有代表性的,有说服力的文章来做革命的大纲。好了,先写到这儿。等有了主意再说。


January 17, 2005

My dream car

Буханка хлеба на колёсах. Мила. И невыразимо очаровательна.

I wish to race up and down Gibbet Hill Road in this car. I wish to have pedastrians staring at me, drivers shocked at me, dogs barking at me. That may sound a little bit attention seeking, but crossing all that out by pulling the windows back up I'll be safe in my own world. In this tiny little car that reminds me of a masterpiece of French bakery. It'll be warm and cosy. I wish… if only I could drive…


January 16, 2005

Missing

Writing about web page http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/talking_point/4140239.stm

They went missing. Like my socks go missing after a big laundry day. They were there and the next moment they are missing. It gives you a hollow feeling in the heart. It makes me think of a big house filled with laughter, noise, passion to life – all that dissappearing at once, erasing the memory and clearing the page. Where did they go? Where did my singled socks go? How do we carry on making sense of life when nonesense like that happens?


January 10, 2005

Тиме

Всё это время пока я училась в Англии, я повсюду замечала людей похожих на своих знакомых и друзей. Ещё год назад видела я девушку, похожую на Шушу, затем кого-то похожего на Прокоперко (помнишь такого?). Видела даже людей, похожих на тех из параллельных классов, тех кого я знала только по виду. Не было только тебя. Но сегодня произошло что-то необычайное. Я учуяла_ тебя! Знаешь, тот запах, который ты иногда издавал. Смесь кожанной куртки и мужских духов. Тот интересный запах, которым пах только ты. Я шла за каким-то молодым человеком, и он издавал тот самый запах. Он нёс в руке смятый кожанный портфель и мчался в сторону автостоянки. А я замерла, как учуяла этот запах. Замерла в каком-то глупом ступоре, с непонятной улыбкой на лице. Перед глазами промчались твои руки со сложенным белым платком, нервно вытирающими пот со лба; морщины на челе, всегда отпугивающие меня; лёгкая дрожь на губах и отчаянная улыбка, чем-то очень очаровательная. Наверное, я просто по тебе соскучилася...

January 06, 2005

В поиске притчи...

Уважаемый посетитель!
В период морального кризиса* и нравственного разложения* общества люди очень часто обращаются к поиску мудрости*, утраченных нравственных приоритетов*. Для этого нужны те культурные формы, в которых заложены вековые истины, традиции, мудрость. Таковыми формами выступают афоризмы, притчи, басни, мифы. Эти жанры необходимы родителям для воспитания своего чада; школьникам для размышления над своей совестью* и поведением; молодым людям для поиска смысла жизни; людям среднего возраста, которые не хотят видеть будущую жизнь бессмысленной*; пожилым людям для осмысления прожитого*.

И только я подумала, что жизнь не так уж уродлива и непоправимо грешна, как я прочитала сей текст. Морльный, значит, кризис у меня. Нравственно я разложена. Мудрость ищу! Утратила все нравственные приоритеты, бессовестна, бессмысленна и не осмысливаю прожитого. Зачем вешать весь этот груз на шею обывателя? На что мораль и нравы? На то, чтобы давило и дышать не давало?

Я наткнулась на этот текст в поиске притчи. Притчи о призраках, которые мы выдумываем сами. На то и напоролась. Теперь ночь не буду спать, размышляя, что ж такого аморального и безнравственного я сделала?...


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