(off, echo voice)
- God Save the Queen!, muffins, sheep, runing hills, fish and chips, margaret the chief! Gallaham brothers, Rowan Atkinson, Orwell. Toast, Jelly, Wembley, Hyde Park, Glostercere. Breacon Beacons. Snowdonia. Rain. Cricket. M4. Portishead. Oasis. George Michaels. Andrew Lloyd Webber. Buckingham, Nothingham, Pubs, Wales, Scotland, Ireland and England. Isle of men. Harrods. Trafalger. London Tower. The Globe. Stratford on Avon. Eggs and ham. Tea. Tate. Turner. Hearst. Potato this potato that. Freddy Mercuri. Pink Floyd. Rolling Stones. David Bowie. Manchester United. Chelsea. Arsenal. Liverpool. EastWest Ham. United. BBC. Stonehenge. Camptembury. Bath. Cadbury. John, Paul, George and Ringo. Sex Pistols. Punk. Custard. Toeffe. James Joyce. Adam Smith. Alvin Toffler. Thames. Dover. Holly Grial. King Arthur and the Knights of the round table. Camelot. Nottingham. Hail to the King. Salisbury. Robin Hood. Bonfires. Churchill. Westminter. RoastBeef. Elizabeth. Merlin. Mary Poppins. Monthy Python. James Bond. Celtic. Anglo. Glasgow. St. Andrews. Highlands. Protestantism. John Mayard Keynes. Lady Diana. Umbro. Soccer fields. Green & wet grass. Hamlets. Villages. Snowdonia. Round potatoes. Chips. Square potatoes. Fried potatoes. Curly potatoes. Willow-tree. Stonehenge. Gloustershire. Stratford upon Avon. George Michael. Beatles. Oasis and now Coldplay. Elton John. Hounds and Terriers. Robbie Williams. Tides. Hails. Showers. WCs. Victoria. London Bridge and Tower. Thames. North sea.
It all began a long time ago, can`t remember the first one, but in two years I had travelled twelve times or so to England, everysummer a different adventure, twelve years had I, I was reading Enid Blyton. I like the castle, the cliffs, the runing hills, the rails, the food, the teas, the conversation. The five and I knew how to travel.
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA LESSON 1 to 14... language learning.
Beatles my first recording.
Shakesperean young actor.
I was lucky, I won a scholarship to study something similar to the A-leves, I was ten, wanted to see world, United Kingdom had some. I had some for them also.
I arrived took me M4, passed Cardill, and a little hamlet close to old Llantwit Major welcomed us with a chilled rain, made way torward my home-to-be for the next couple of years.
United World College experience hosted in South Wales, in the St.Donat`s Castle, past property of William Randloph Hearst, sixteen century sea castle, justine field, cruch.
Cheers mate.
Bloody hell.
Lager.
Draft.
Britpop.
The industrial revolution hit hard and cold, the lonely factories remind you of oldfolk drowning themselves at pub, and youngsters somewhere else. London, the Crown, The Parlament rule somehow.
Back to my experience, that last travel that couple of summers I was about to live six years after,
I don`t have words to describe the first time I sat my feet in my college, in St. Donat`s Castle, south wales. It was simply magnificent, the gray of the stones spoke to me of ages past.
I remember that first morning that it was way too clear, something had happened. It snowed, in march, in Wales. In a single jump I found myself in my boxer shorts out rolling in the snow. My "family" was there, we got along, red haired scottish, long haired norwegian and curlied hair albanian, Eno Kanani was his name, Eno is another story. It was a wonderful morning.
During the breaks, they snow fights began, it was hard to get accross to the opposite buildings, the same building in which one morning the english lit. teacher found his bicycle hangin from a rope, far from the ground in between the buildings.
Accross the bayfront, accross bristol channel we pictured cornwall lands, I was eager to get accross that land, to the newquey spots. Everyday more, I wondered and looked at the sea, the silver sea, waiting patiently for an inshore swell. Those days were past gone and they are here now. Exitement. God created the seas and he saw it was good. Gen 2:11. Reading the sea, sitting half in the sea, birds pass near you, and you start to think, to see, listen and feel. English surfers are a kind of their own.
The "CALL-OUT" was always there. The guards, the shifts, the mocks and the real ones.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Sunday, September 02, 2007
EAP Raven
The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
rethinking home
okkie donkie, salte del closet, destapate, quitate el esmalte-- at least thats wot I understand. i recently thought `bout digging this wicked epifany, listen to this...
I had been riding long and swift roaring inside my helmet with a heavy 1100 engine steady motocycle. The perfect day happens, it happens on the road, ride for a day. Then youll hear me. You can revolution man, its all in your hands. feeling the wing on your face, the engine, just run !!!
got big ego cant see well. stop, brake, crash, bum. Yes, yes, can stop at any time..
And the red motorcycle ran into the horizon for a days ride. Contemplating the scenary came back alive, to reality. Have a safe journey home.
I had been riding long and swift roaring inside my helmet with a heavy 1100 engine steady motocycle. The perfect day happens, it happens on the road, ride for a day. Then youll hear me. You can revolution man, its all in your hands. feeling the wing on your face, the engine, just run !!!
got big ego cant see well. stop, brake, crash, bum. Yes, yes, can stop at any time..
And the red motorcycle ran into the horizon for a days ride. Contemplating the scenary came back alive, to reality. Have a safe journey home.
sun august the 2nd
BIENVENIDOS / WELCOME TO A SAXO DOWNED TEMPO EVENING..
THE MASTER DORF AND MR.KRUDER...
From which standpoint should I write thisitnow.
- Mr.K- alone, don`t stand alone.
- Dorf- alone, no never... tu tu tuutuu. (echoeing) feeling it in my heart.
- Mr.K- (gasps)
- Dort- Fellin`lone ain´t you?
- Mr.K- (swallops last gasp) Sometimes, sometimes..
.. Im a double being, keeps me company.
- Dort- (identifying) I hear you bro
- Mr.K- See? simple, something like this.
- Dorf- I comprehend you amigo!. Rise dude now or never?
- Mr.K- We ought to have that volume up.
THE MASTER DORF AND MR.KRUDER...
From which standpoint should I write thisitnow.
- Mr.K- alone, don`t stand alone.
- Dorf- alone, no never... tu tu tuutuu. (echoeing) feeling it in my heart.
- Mr.K- (gasps)
- Dort- Fellin`lone ain´t you?
- Mr.K- (swallops last gasp) Sometimes, sometimes..
.. Im a double being, keeps me company.
- Dort- (identifying) I hear you bro
- Mr.K- See? simple, something like this.
- Dorf- I comprehend you amigo!. Rise dude now or never?
- Mr.K- We ought to have that volume up.
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