Thursday, 20 July 2017

Thursday, last day of the stay in the white city, I am missing G so much it aches. Ape arrived and already my portraying tendencies began to resurface. We climbed the castle hill, talking serious stuff, then down to the Tiepolo exhibit, which was very fine and to my taste, even though I forgot to film any of it, idiot. There was one of the sketches of the elegance, a study of greyhounds, very realistically done, with a complete and utter doodle of Pomeranian, just a bunch of short lines and two dots in the middle. It was awesome. I'll show you once we get home. 

These are some of the stuff from the web:

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

2:30, can't sleep. Trolling the sites on Facebook that have gone downhill in my absence ... I REALLY have to bite my tongue from time to time, not give an opinion on some of the stuff posted by people I know.
I know, G would be so proud. But for fuck'ssakes. I wish I could say it's envy that they get more views than me, but hey, I am super proud of the twelve I get WITHOUT showing my tits to the world.

Tuesday, 18 July 2017

So, ye, logged back into Facebook... Trolled the shit out of The Young Turks to celebrate. 
It really is the cutest, oddest sensation, exploring the outskirts of a new city: the streets with funny narrow houses above a steep narrow river, the endless crescent apartment building full of people I have absolutely never spoken to, any of them ... The random tiny cafe bars, bakeries, pet food stores, crammed into the niches, neat little gym parks and jogging trails... I am slightly disappointed in how filthy the river is, full of rotting bikes and shopping cars and disposed of pieces of furniture, tires or garbage bags, but supposedly they clean it out once a year. Pity. it would be a lovely river otherwise. I wonder how far down I could follow it?....

I was asked to take the books back to the library, heavy pointy little bastards poking me in the hip, and I can tell you now how awfully cool one feels when checking out their own books and finding them well-worn and read :D It's like hearing your poem sung by a street performer, or seeing your art stolen to promote some famous establishment. So cool.

Was a moment away from wondering whether to sign back into Facebook on my old account, which I've failed to eradicate, and I will need it to get my subscriber count above thirteen, (and I CBA creating a whole new fan base anew with Artsy), when spam informed me one of my besties has posted a pic and as I click on it, voila! I am back in my old, disavowed account like nothing happened.... Shitty shitty fucking creepy little stalking shit.

Like I'm in a fucking cult.

Sunday, 16 July 2017

Reading The Otranto Castle, Primeval and Other Times and Motorcycle diaries; watching Twelve Angry Men, Black Mirror and Glitch.

All highly recommended stuff, guys.
Traveloguing a wee bit around the city, which is wonderful, through the old part and back through a flea market where you can get anything from old Nazi uniforms to Gandalf pipes, Elvis records to ancient photo cameras, old money and fairly new Hungarian stamps... I'm tempted to buy everything, but I forced myself to try and film a neat video for the vlog, showing how cute our capital can be. took no more and no less than one whole photo to serve as the thumbnail...

Still not sure how to make custom thumbnails, but more importantly, I've no idea how to make YouTube content I want either. I need to figure out the shtick, the energy, the brightness, the seriousness and the originality of my posts. I have never in my entire existence breached the gap between my shy exclusiveness and profitable popularity. It's my summer job to figure it out, how to be cultural and erudite, yet compete with gamer little boys and fitness little girls.

Friday, 14 July 2017

Hm, there's a Tiepolo sketches exhibit in the National Gallery.... hmmm...

Perhaps the most important reason of why I take time away from G is to work on my reactionary nature. It was not until very recently that I realized an alternative to despairing over any little shit that isn't going your way - or, sometime, big bad stuff - but the fact remains my marital bliss has caused me to seek always one and only one solution to every problem, big or small: find G. G will know what to do.
Or. a more probably mentality: G has the money to handle it. Perhaps it's not having any money that frightens me about the real world..  while I KNOW those penniless ought to be most care-free and resourceful..
In retrospect, of course, things that happen are so miniature they are certainly not worth any tears or blisters, but that is always the case with 'all is well that ends well'. I need to train myself to not freak out every time I lose control of every detail of the real world. This time, these days away, are some of that exercise. 
Solve your own shit. And even though you can, don't cry into the phone like a little bitch during. Look, the main thing is, at least now you have a whole sheet of bubble wrap to pop. Oh, how the cat envies you!
And so it was that after a long slow day G walked me to the station and we chatted about trains and sex and trains and love and food and trains for almost an hour (track renovation causing delays), then he waited until we moved on and returned to the normal world whereas I rode out in search of, well, a monastic version of our capital in the summer.
On the train ride, just as the night was crawling out of the wilderness to have its way with us all, (and the entirety of the train evacuated at Laško, where the Beer fest is happening...) I saw a girl who instantly attracted me, for she had rich black hair in a braid, weaved through with strains of long white hairs - something I find deeply appealing in young people. It suggests their worry of the world, or something.
My nose for the kind, I engaged her in a conversation and of course we ended up talking YouTube and global politics :D She and her sis then drove me to my address and the day ended perfectly. I was tired, so I passed out early, and for the first time in weeks it got so cool during the wee hours I actually had to find myself a cover. In the morning a small dog howling and yapping so insistently woke me, the inertia of Starbark whining when I don't take her out early enough, almost had me take the cat down for a loo. As I am abstaining from coffee momentarily, he brain takes a little longer to pick up on things...
The plan is to finish the last chapter of Goose, but as I am on a borrowed laptop, we'll see how that goes ...I require a certain small element of familiarity to completely dive into creativity, so, although I came well prepared, movies and shows and books and all... we'll see :) Eight days to go...

Thursday, 13 July 2017

New content :)

The "Violence is for cavemen" vlog is up. Yo!

Tuesday, 11 July 2017

My first troll!!

Oh! I feel so grown up :D My frst troll.. I'm a real YouTuber now!...

Monday, 10 July 2017

Fuck, it's so hot that by the time I am done putting the washing on the line, the first ones are dry already. Almost impossible to sleep. Or to clean the house, which needs to be done before guests arrive :/
Haven't combed my hair after the last five or six of the last showers, so they're going into this really cool looking rasta dread-locky mode :D New I Roved Out is up, awesome shit as always... I'll be editing the next video later, after I get myself some food... Watched Tour De Pharmacy, so far the weirdest and gruesome of their mocumentaries, but also kinda cute. And the first episode of Snowfall, which put me in a 1983's Los Angeles mood. Never needed to before, but am putting the city on my list.

Well, overnight, albeit short, because nobody is sleeping in this heat, the art vlog got four views and the porn one got forty. Tough subject matter to predict there.

Sunday, 9 July 2017

Two new vlog rants, one about porn, the other about art - I know my shit with these two :D Next up 'violence'. (Am against.) 


Too fucking hot to sleep. G has plans to go out hunting before dawn, I'm restlessly walking around the house, reading a bit, watching old David Bowie Movies, retweeting stuff I marginally relate to... It's 2:30... Every once in a while power goes out like we're in Bangkok...

Yesterday was a really lovely day - we picked up dad and drove to my elder brother's place for his BD - he made a superb BBQ-stewed bograch and his lady made some other veggie yummies and amazing bread with sunflower and other like seeds... They are such cool people. We got stuck at his movie collection - we actually have an almost exact taste - his fav movie is Stalker and The Duellists ranks up in the first ten, followed by a hundred I completely agree with... missing perhaps only the Station agent and Arrival.. He also haves great comics and subscribes to the same political magazines. She is a good listener when I reported on what's been the haps for the past few months and we offed to give the leftovers of food to the chickens of the farm she inherited: they ranked from 3-day old tennis balls with beaks to MASSIVE mother hens, bigger even than the noisy rooster. They also have the nicest and most police bullmastiff bitch, which kept sitting her 100 pound bum on my foot and pressing against me, wanting to be tickled on her tummy. We talked hours on end, hiding in the shadow of their house. Dad was telling the story from war when a whole train of Bosnian orphan boys arrived for the picking and all the farmers, shepherds and tradesmen picked theirs to have as apprentices and help, leaving the last two weakest and smallest behind, then picked by dad's sister. (After both his parents dies, she was the head of the house, she had her own farm.) And she brought the boys up so well suddenly everyone wanted them, and one went of to become the headmaster of a teach school. Those were really weird times. You needed to have cards to get bits of food from the stores, bits of anything wrapped in small paper cones. Except for the farmers, people were pretty fucked right after the war.

Friday, 7 July 2017

PMSing. Watched a trailer for The Red Turtle once and then Trolls 48 times to stop crying. I'll be fine.

But hey, I got 7 subscribers. PewDiePie, now's the time to worry for your subscriber supremacy, because there can only be one king of YouTube!

Tuesday, 4 July 2017


The tragic bit isn't that there are people who can live off air, not eating any food or drinking any water for decades at the time (though having perfectly normal kitchens in their houses, or being seen coming out of restaurants or, you know, being tested and they nearly die in four days), the tragic bit is that the first organ to fail them is... what's that word... brain. It is simultaneously frightening and fascinating how well some people function entirely without a brain. 

Wait, do you think ... could it be ... is it possible it's a all ... a scam?!

Cute dreams

My brain really gives me the greatest dreams. I had the privilege or an almost private small David Bowie concert, where I was some sort of help with the organizers of a large symposium (might have been on a very large ship or something)… And man, can he sing, even if I was just there for the rehearsal. In the end his wife Iman joined him on stage, but also his first crazy wife Angie was there… I am proud my brain keeps so many details about these people, their actualization was entirely accurate. Not to mention mine – for all my bragging about social confidence, in dreams like these, faced with a man like that – if half my weight, old and polite – I felt and stood there like a dumb little rabbit’s poop

Monday, 3 July 2017

I've got a dislike!!? NO!! How?! WHYyyyyy???!

Saturday, 1 July 2017

Using my old photos to make myself some more banners..

I needed something for my upcoming video about the decline of journalistic integrity ...

Took me three tries to get there :P

Friday, 30 June 2017

Latest upload :D Comments appreciated :*

Thursday, 29 June 2017

I've got a subscriber!! Yay!!
Okay, it's the General, but it feels so good. A whole subscriber! :D

First few videos...

Slowly building myself a YouTube Channel... From scratch.

Made myself a YouTube persona: Minerva in July.
Now the rest...

Wednesday, 28 June 2017

All the city church bells ringing full blast for the second time today, hoping to scatter the hail clouds. Mordor weather - in fact I had the opportunity to stand in the middle of a parking lot and see what majestic horrors roll around in the sky: a fleeting ring of a milky cloud at full speed while all around us cumuli twisted in purple, grey and green, closing in on the city to create a cell. For now it looks like it got blown over, because if it rips, it seems to break trees. Twice a day.

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

Am getting closer to creating YouTube content. I could open with "Dumb fucking space ship design in American movies..."

Too small for the world, too big for the pond

Whenever I see or read something that's been exhibited, I use myself as the Litmus test: is it something I couldn't do? Something in all my years I've never done? Is it so good I stand mesmerised before it and marvel at how talented people are? It happens enough to make me proud of my species, but ... what if it is something so sub par, grotesquely unoriginal and so painfully average I am embarrassed for whose-ever cock got sucked into sponsoring it?

It breaks my heart every single time I see what sorts of products win contests, and not just popularity contests. I’ve recently, two or so days ago, won a minute voucher for a shop, which inspired me to go and try for all different kinds of competitions and games, mostly literary and photography… Drej also got into the exhibition selection with one of her photographs, which gave me courage to come out of my shell even more. I never got even close back in the day when I really tried. Maybe, after all this time, I’m better at what I do, I'm good enough?

Then I started checking out what competitions and invitations circle or have just expired around these parts... I saw what sort of things get into the winners circles.

And I started to cry.
Never in a thousand years do I stand a chance to get included with the things I try to do. I am not even talented enough to understand HOW. HOW?? I can’t stop crying. Forget quality of the product. Forget originality ENTIRELY. Forget what it takes to achieve the result. Forget any kind of rules, education or conscious effort. Forget superiority aimed at and above average achieved. That is for deluded snobs.

And I KNOW that I live in a pond where the willingness to create alone is laudable, I know that. Thank the muses someone is creating something. But the things that get exhibited as ‘critics’ choice’ in the end?

Crying still. I’ve watched a dozen puppies howling videos and had coffee and I’m crying still. I feel like one of those mothers who rather murders her baby rather than expose it to the hopeless world – I am considering murdering my camera with my pen and bury them both.

You can write the most original, witty, cool short story and you will lose to a housewife writing about her dog in a language fit for someone with a primary school education. You can draw an elegant, expressive think piece and you will lose to a schoolgirl sketching a baaaaad copy of a portrait of Angelina Jolie. You can choose your best photo of the last 30 years of perfecting your style to come close to your biggest idols, and you will lose to a photo of a hot girl in a nightie kissing a horse or a church hill in morning mist…

I stand not a chance in a thousand years. I know that now, and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart.  

Monday, 26 June 2017

New Pirelli calendar is out and this time they are going for (old) white actresses (plus a token African and an Asian somewhere..)

I never thought these should be considered good photos, because if famous hot chicks weren't on them, it would be just some well lit studio shot of a hot chick... Notice, however, that the focus is never on the eyes - where it absolutely always should be.. It's never there. And that is a good trick, actually. It removes the attention from their wrinkles and imperfections and chases the viewer's eye all around the close-up. So you do get the portrait of a famous old hot chick - so close you really shouldn't be looking at her - and at the same time you don't. Well done.

This year's credit goes to Peter Lindbergh, who made a career out of portraying hot women. How does that even work? Is that what i should do and just shut up about it?

Now I know I can only listen to 80's greatest hits for about three songs before a seizure..

Future fiction and realistic fantasy

Because they were rare back in the day, when Harry Potter hit hard (after three books, because nobody knew what the fuck that is until the fourt or so) and the TLDR Fellowship of the Ring came out and there was nothing hotter than lean blonde elves (even my mother knows who Orlando Bloom is and she’s stopped thinking blondes are hot with Lawrence Olivier), kick-ass witty dwarves (only reason to play Alliance side) and secretive, torn-inside heroes (okay, those were kind of the norm even before, but Mortensen's Aragorn sealed the deal) - suddenly you were no longer special needs for reading children's books above the age of nine, pretty much all of what came down on the market early was deemed excellent. Twilight saga, Pullman's Golden Compass, Nix's Sabriel, ANYTHING Pratchett scrapped from the bottom of the barrel... Yes, those have been around for a long time, but nobody admitted to reading comics (even if it was Gaiman), watching Anime (even if it was Miyazaki) or reaching for any kind of science fiction other than Isaac Asimov ... maybe Gibson, maybe, maybe Douglas Adams, but he was basically a Monty Python anyway. 

Those things were rare and they were great. They weren't marketable, they appealed to a thin stack of pencils of nerds who practiced becoming future Nabokovs by means of Star wars or Labyrinth fan fiction and who thought some day, porn, some day I will understand the meaning of you!

Well, times changed. Lord of the Rings was followed by a torrent of movies that attempted to incorporate elements of magic (even some interesting Russian stuff), and is still rolling in the likes of Game of Thrones, where audience will sit agape at teen titties and huge CGI battles, as long as there's a good, deep dialogue thrown in once every four or five episodes. Characters don't even have to do much, just stand in imposing costume and wear resting bitch faces and the nerds and nerd on-line magazine critics will be just fine interpreting the costume, down to the jewelry worn by extras.

Manga and Anime are in such demand these days, their quality is watered down on every level: story, illustration and details. I LOVE Anime, and would read manga if I could get my hands on it, but even I am desperate for at least one exceptional show per year. Is all I ask. One that I won't be TOLD is excellent and highest ranked, but one which I will be able to find memorable on my own. I've seen SO MANY shows and always will, but they are starting to blend together. Comics, western version, which are slightly harder to produce, are slightly more fortunate in this aspect: there has been an up in some superlative content - Wytches, say, and Saga and personally I am very fond of Flight, the Watchmen and I Roved Out.

And yet, looking back now, on the likes or Eragon, Inkblood and shit like that…. Those were fucking retarded. I tried, I tried really hard to fangirl, because it genuinely is my genre and there are things within that genre that will transcend your LIFE… But man. Take a look at that shit again. It’s fucking embarrassing. There are movies in the past with magical realism elements considered bad that are freakishly brilliant by comparison to what we find acceptable today. Enough with the posh realistic fiction, I beg of you. Make one a year, maybe two, and keep those astounding. One big, one indi. Not fifty, the opening act of which is the fucking Mummy. Which makes the Brendan Fucking Fraser version seem okay.

There is a huge HUGE divide between a good idea sold to a rich studio and a movie made for people who actually know what the genre is about. Hint: it is not about hot chicks and space battles. It is not ONLY about hot chicks and space battles. That’s like only eating dessert for the rest of your life.

Sunday, 25 June 2017

It changes nothing

AGORA is the last, the final 'short' story in the second Goose chapter - the one which I knew I wanted to close with, but didn't know what I wanted it to be. I had elements from the Good Nazi, in which Kay & Co. help a stationed German solve a murder in a remote mountain French village; I knew I wanted to include the story of a woman who started a whole civilisation by paving a circular yard in the middle of nowhere to inspire an agora, a marketplace for the local villagers... And I knew I wanted to close with The Orc and Kay spending a month travelling through various coastal landscapes, gravitating towards a mountain where he finally figures out the whole point of his actions.
Merging these... layers ... melted into a story of Kay and the Orc following the map left behind by the missing ranger Tovelyn, to come upon a village where a small girl has been killed. They are asked to help find the wrongdoer, which they do, but also find that there is an underlying dark magic in the soil, being awakened by the Orc's recent actions and spilling from the ancient ruins of the old marketplace. They use Kay's parlour trick to scroll down the time line, to travel a thousand years back  to find the source of darkness and see if that will change anything. (Kay knows it won't, but he needs to know for sure.) They dow well, magic is removed, in present time the murder has still occurred for different reasons, if in a roundabout way still connected to the Agora. The Orc asks to travel further to the very origin of the mosaic to kill the woman, later they manage to find a peaceful solution and simply talk her out of starting it all. Again, of course, it changes nothing. The Orc goes home to finish his war once and for all and Kay makes sure that, curse-erased from memory, Tovelyn will not be forgotten. 


Though I hoped it was going to be more comedic and less melodramatic, this is a good show. The 80s vibe is mesmerizing, I am so glad the 80s are making a comeback (said no-one yet so far). It slows down significantly after the second episode - you can see the makers pitched a 10-episode story, but only had enough ideas for three plus finale, so it goes into character back-stories instead of any actual wrestling early on. That said, the script is great and the acting is exceptional. Even the cartoonish characters like the young dumb producer and the big wrestling girl's wrestling dad are wonderful. And of course it is easy to thoroughly marvel at the three leads: the A-level loser with her endless amount of hope; the upcoming and ever more recognisable ice queen, and the old DePalna-wanna-be/has-been director. Even if it was just the three of them, this would be a watchable show, but it would be all the poorer without the 'stereotype starlets' ensemble. And this was still the time when you could make a joke about the Isl*m*c te*+orist*..

The kid apologises

The kid tried to make things okay and was really doing all the chores the last few days, on his own initiative, though articulating 'I am sorry I fucked up' still came hard and only after G told him to thank me.
I said: "I will always have your back and will always save you and will always be on your side - EXCEPT when your side and my beau's side are separate. If you make my boo boo that scared again, I will fucking kill you myself."

Teenagers. You can't live with them and it's illegal to beat the crap out of them on regular/educational basis.

Tew haut :/

Fuck I’m tired. I haven’t been doing anything – ANYTHING –but it’s so hot we mostly just sleep all the time. It’s one of those disgusting, terrible heats, not like a desert heat or a long day in the mountains in summer heats. All the concrete, the streets, buildings, parking lots, walls, roofs and glass have heated up, creating a suffocating incubator that is impossible to overcome. Little by little we survive, under fans, in cold bath-tubs, but it’s just so hot. Yesterday we went to an Eco restaurant far in the hills and for all intents and purposes it was delicious, the food was great (and said to be expensive, which bothered us, though we were not told in detail), but it was just so hot. 35 people and one AC didn’t go well together, so when one of the courses was late, the mood was terrible. And the proprietor of the establishment insisted on serving all of the food himself instead of, knowing how many we will be, hiring two students or something, so all of the cooks and him were purple and dripping sweat while we sat hungry. That bit was a mess. Besides that, it was okay. Long story short, we did nothing all day but sit and wait and still I am so exhausted today I can barely bring myself to walk the dog (who is also melting.) We’re off to the river where she can swim and cool off. Fuck it’s hot. And, of course, because of all the AC and fans, ‘tis be the season of oily ears, stuffed noses, sore shoulders and mild headache. Fun times.