Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Mittel Duna



I walk back and forth across Margit Hid a couple of times a day almost every day.  Even if I'm on my way to a tutoring gig, I usually stop once or twice just to take in the beauty that is Budapest.  Margit Hid, arguably the city's most beloved (or at least well-trod) bridge apart from Lánchíd, offers the best view of Országház in Pest and Várhegy in Buda, with the Freedom Statue on Géllert Hill rising between them in the southern distance. Classic postcard shot, unachievable with my digital camera.
 The much less magnificent, distant view north along the Danube, could well be Spokane, Washington, that is, if you look well past Margitsziget, which lies just off the middle angle of Margit Hid.
  So, I'm usually looking at the horizon, north or south.
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking across the bridge one night and happened to look down.  Probably saw something shiny. Then I heard voices rising, apparently from the river's surface  I looked further down and saw a couple of young hippies on the now visible dirt and pebble abutment at the middle of the bridge.  Couldn't figure out how those two got down there.  Rope?  Boat?  'Twas a mystery until I noticed how low the water was, and that it was now possible to walk from Margitsziget to the tip of the abutment.
  Those snidelys at that smart assy online rag, Pestcide, reminded me today that I can and should venture down to the bare abutment while it is still accessible...http://www.pestiside.hu/20111129/to-do-while-you-can-walk-around-margit-bridges-central-abutment/
Think I'll take Cosmo there tomorrow.
I love cheap thrills. x



Sunday, November 27, 2011

You're Just Supposed To Do It


    Whimsically profound British troubador, Robyn Hitchcock, once sang about Gene Hackman, "and when he smiles, there's trouble somewhere".
  I doubt Robyn was referring to Gene's character in "The Conversation" because in this film, Hackman's character, surveillance expert Harry Caul, rarely cracks a smile, if ever. There is, however, plenty of trouble and Harry Caul is in the middle of it.
  The movie's all about spying for hire, the questionable ethics of that field, and the paranoia which is inherent. It's also a compelling mystery which ends with a disturbing twist, filmed in a San Francisco that has lost its innocence, seeming as shell-shocked as Harry Caul himself.
  Director Francis Ford Coppolla was on a creative roll here.  "The Conversation" was shot and released the same year as  "The Godfather Part II" and both movies won awards in 1974.  The haunting piano instrumental soundtrack sounds like saloon music from the city's 49ers era whose composer spent a little time with the hippies on Haight-Ashbury.  Slightly boozy bordering on strung out but beautiful nonetheless.
  I have seen this movie several times, but  have been wanting to see it again recently.  It might be available somewhere in Budapest but I'm not sure where to look. Alas, it's not available at our neighborhood DVD joint, The Odeon.
  Might have to resort to iTunes.  Ah well.  It will be worth it.
  If your curiosity is piqued, watch this trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34BRG_K1X4o
here's the theme song:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUsEIdHxBPk
  

Friday, November 25, 2011

Black Friday, Etc.

When Black Friday Comes

   When Black Friday comes, my pretties......

May you find yourself getting up early, not to make a mad dash to the nearest big box retailer, but only to shuffle sleepily to the fridge to fetch a leftover piece of pumpkin pie to accompany that nice, hot cup of coffee you just brewed for yourself.

May you ignore that wicked little voice which tells you you'd better get out there and shop because there are once a year deals to be had.  It's not true. http://money.bundle.com/article/5-top-myths-about-saving-money-black-friday Relax and enjoy your day off, away from the madness. (More Black Friday truths can be found here: http://finance.yahoo.com/news/5-reasons-skip-black-friday-164603988.html
Pay particular attention the the part about "frenzied shopping".  I'm actually surprised this showed up on Yahoo's home page.



You know that word "savvy" you see in articles and advertisements, referring to you, the intrepid shopper?  It's flattery.  Ignore it. Stay home in your pajamas.

If you do venture out into the madness....remember that bright, shiny thingy looks much sexier and more useful in its store display than it will back at home, away from the fluorescent glare. Take cover in a coffee shop or better yet, go back home. Watch a movie.  You won't miss a thing.

May you lack the desire to be part of the embarrassing spectacle that is Black Friday shopping, an entirely commercially concocted American holiday of its own, a day which brings out the very worst primal behavior in people.  Seriously, we have to resort to these measures to go to the damn store?
http://blogs.laweekly.com/informer/2010/11/black_friday_shoppers_continue.php
Folks die during this unbridled consumer madness. Shame.

Having dismissed the idea of joining the Black Friday folly, if you find yourself in front of your computer may you visit the following link, for fun and edutainment: http://www.revbilly.com

I'll leave you with a quote I found on Rev. Billy's website, coined by a German blogger named Luisa Franca. Remember the Bob Dylan tune "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding"..."he not busy being born is busy dying"?
  Luisa's twist, heavy with relevance, "she not busy being born is busy buying."
Stop Shopping. x

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Dervish of Buda, Father of Roses


  After work this evening, I took the short, precipitous stroll up to Gül Baba's mausoleum.  The Turkish poet's tomb is Islam's northernmost pilgrimage site. He died here after a battle in 1541. Legend has it that he introduced roses to the city, although roses had grown in Hungary long before the Ottoman invasion. The hill on which the tomb rests is called Rozsádomb, or Rose Hill. The old man has quite a view of the city from up there!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Someone Else's Shoes


  
  I saw these shoes the other day, tucked neatly away inside the nook of a large building on Bálint Balassi utca.  Decent pair of kicks, even without the laces.  Who and why, I wondered.... x

Me, On The Edge of Creativity


  Something strange happened last night.  Strange but very cool.  I'm not sure how to proceed or even if I can. It was all in my head anyway.
  Yesterday evening, I was in our kitchen washing up some dishes after preparing the marinade for our fajitas.  Fajitas are one of our comfort foods, whose ingredients are easily procured from the ABC downstairs.  It was a comfort food night, cold and smoggy.
   I was at the kitchen sink, staring down into the bubbly dish water, when I began to feel slightly faint.  I tried to ignore it, thinking it would pass.  I'd been sick  so feeling kind of woozy has been my status of late.
  It got worse.  Quickly.  Soon my vision was blurry and my body began to feel icy and numb.  I felt as if I might vomit if I stood there any longer so I shuffled out of the kitchen, turning briefly to tell Aidan and Boone, "I feel sick".  I travelled through what felt like a nauseating worm hole to my bedroom, dark and warm, and plopped face first onto the bed, clumsily wrapping myself in the tangled duvets.  I'm not one to make my bed on a daily basis.
  Boone followed shortly to check on me, asked if I was okay, and I said I was, as long as I could just lay  there for a few minutes.
  As I lay there, the spins slowly easing and the nausea retreating, I began to have visions....yes, visions, but only inside my head.  They came without any effort, seemingly on their own, like an internal reel of clips.  There were faces, scenes, animals, all presented in different styles from animation to abstract expressionism.  I realized they were ideas...ideas for drawings, collages, photographs.  Coming from me.  But I had no way to hold onto them.  Nothing stuck.
  This visual process was backed up by the most intense aural hallucinations I've ever had.  Sometimes between wake and sleep, my brain cooks up melodies and harmonies, sometimes with vocals, which lull me sweetly into dream land.  These compositions almost always disappear upon waking and I'm never sure whether or not they are mixed up regurgitations of the music I listen to on a daily basis.
  The music I heard inside my head last night was all me. Like the visions, they seemed to come on their own.  They sounded original and seemed unreferenced. To me, they sounded beautiful.  I wanted to hold them down, rmember them.  But like the visions they were slippery and would not stick.
  Now, I swear I had not taken anything to induce this little mind trip, which sounds a whole lot like an acid flashback.  No cold meds, nothing, just a few sips of hot wine passed my lips last night.
  Whatever it was, I loved it.  I felt joy.  I rarely feel joy, I feel her fleeting past from time to time but rarely able to catch her by the tail.
  I stayed in my cocoon of duvets for a half hour, perhaps, I couldn't tell because the dimension of time wasn't discernable to me then. I was lost in this wonderland of creative bliss.
  When I finally arose, heading back into the kitchen to complete my tasks and eat my fajita, (Boone had popped the marinating chicken into the oven) my body was shaking but my mind was as clear as crystal.  I was also ravenous.  I made short work of my fajita, declaring happily, "I will never get tired of these."
  I realize that this experience is probably nothing that unusual.  Who knows what we as individuals go through on a daily basis, unshared, unspoken.  But I really felt like this was a message from my higher self (who seems to have been on a decades long retreat) to my conscious self. Look what you can do.  See what you could have done. Enjoy a glimpse of could have been, what might still be. Do it.  That part of the experience is still not quite evident.  All I know is that I came out of this episode curious, content, and incredibly hungry.