All entries for September 2005

September 23, 2005

Sigur Ros

4 out of 5 stars

Songs that don't mention love, broken hearts or celebrate the dominance of men over women deserve my respect by default. Sigur Ros sings about hell knows what – they sing in Icelandic, a language unknown and hence exciting for me. Here's a little quote to get the taste of Icelandic major concerns:

Hullaballoo, I Rushed Down To The Lake, A Savior.
I Prepared A Ship And Said A Little Prayer, For I Was Scared.
The Sun Shone And The Lake Flowed.
Sunflowers Sunflowers The Flies Die.
But Today I Will Save As Many Flies As I Can.
In Each Hand I Carry A Net – Determined.

Yes, flies. People are concerned about saving flies, rather than unappreciated love and other similar bollocks. Their music is very close to nature, and not just in the lyrics sense. It bathes you in the refreshing sounds of forests, it takes you to glide over the surface of oceans and tells you a story in the meantime. It's harmonic and causes you to sway and hum along. My attempts to sing along in the most epic parts failed miserably, as I'm unable to read Icelandic.

Sigur Ros is, perhaps, the second major item of import of Iceland, after Bjork. If not – it shuold be. They experiment with dissonance, taking notes in places one doesn't expect a noise. The vocalist doesn't posses an impressive or outstanding voice, but it goes with the music well. Their music, on the other hand, can be disappointingly similar, but didn't Coldplay crush your dreams and kill your idol with their X&Y as well? They have a unique style to their creations and should be highly appreciated for that.

September 22, 2005

Tram poetry de Rus

Poety is good. So good that it needs to be encouraged. Or else, imposed, nicely and smoothly. Russian people are experts in imposing. So they opened a poetry tram in a town called Ekaterinburg in Russia. It works like this: one doesn't need to pay for the ride, but one has to read poetry. With a microphone and piece of paper, or just sitting there, enjoying the views and reading out of your mind/heart/head. It can be a piece of classic; it can also be home-made – there are no limitations, except it ought to be politically correct and not rude. Lydia Ivanovna, an elderly lady, said she felt so inspired by the project that she'd started writing her own little poems and had discovered a genius of poetry in herself. This project initiated by Boris Abelyanin, a poet himself, is said to aim at encouraging and propagating Russian poetry in the age of cultural decay. So far, Bon voyage!

September 21, 2005

Обратно в болото

Два года – и ничего не изменилось. Даже гномик-погодщик, А.В. Беляев с НТВ всё такой же. Вот, правда, Кирилл Кикнадзе – спортивный комментатор – полысел немного и выглядит ещё более похожим на весёлого робота. Я ещё ничего осмотреть не успела. Из дома завтра тоже не выйду – уж больно холодно там, за окном. Но когда выйду, тогда и подробный рапорт напишу, об том чего изменилось, чего осталось преждним, и чего появилось нового.

September 09, 2005

To Penguina:

This is YOU! :D

September 05, 2005


When someone says they could die for you, what they really mean is they'd rather die than live and suffer the pain of losing you. All in all, the idea of dying for someone is an utterly selfish plot to save oneself from an ongoing pain. Altruism is fake.

September 2005

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