Sunday, 15 July 2018

Chillin' in Iški Vintgar editorial :D

With Ema Žurej and Nina Pečar..

Saturday, 14 July 2018

Friday, 13 July 2018

Back from the stay in the capitol. It went by a lot faster than I worried - I did some writing, I did some reading, I did some shooting, I did some exhibitions, and in the end, I didn't even have time to write G the seventh letter I was going to bring him, the one with a damaged stamp. I'm gonna post a majority of the quickie pics on Insta for now, and get right back to my text. Then I'll edit and post the rest and tell you all about it ....

Tuesday, 10 July 2018

Just out there ... (well, inside, since it's really hot.)

I always forget how very treated the water in the capitol is -  look down on my arms and legs and I'm pale with dry skin. Back home I shower daily, never using any kind of products at all, no soaps, no gels, no creams, nothing, and my skin is perfect. But I always forget, so I come here with just a toothbrush and then wonder if olive oil is a good idea, if you're gonna sweat all day, and you only brought one extra shirt... O.o Nasty.

I'm here for the week. So far the weather has been lovely; I go out on my dog schedule: used to waking up early and coming back from the walk before eight, when it starts to scorch. Yesterday we drove just a few minutes outside the city to the coolest of gorges: a miniature river, only enough to swim in a little, brilliant and icy cold, white rocks with moss, pebble shore patches, surrounded by tall white rocks and old dark trees, willows and oaks. In the eve I put on music (Oddly in the mood to listen to Kids See Ghosts, if you can adam and eve that.) and chase Pokemon all over the city, rocking the new 'friends' feature that has you sending gifts to random strangers in return for gifts from them, which give you rares and shineys and some extra goodies. It's so damn cute I can't wait to go outside again, just to turn my 4 mile walk, crack open some special 7km eggs (finally collected 1480 coins to purchase 12 hot incubators - took me a month to get there and two days to burn through them ... :D ) and collect new gifts from stops. It's idiotic, but I make 10 miles a day just because of it. I take my camera, but street performances are plenty and lots of crowds, which I am mildly averse of. 

Though I did get an urge to do a shoot with soap bubbles... Soap bubbles are awesome, if you get the light right. Maybe car lights, from an SVU? Ideas and inspiration come plentiful when I'm out here. I had a moment where I genuinely needed to invent a word to express my feelings ... I am still working on it still, meanwhile having coined the term 'ghostbirth' - indicating the moment when you realise something happened which will have strong and long lasting consequences... The professor has left me her laptop to use and watch YouTube, but the bullet journal is coming nicely along, to.

On a strict diet of ice-cream and cold salads, and lots and lots of coffee, I'm waiting for my sneakers to dry because the sandals are beginning to give me blisters. That'll fucking teach me to wade upriver in running shoes. I mean, don't get me wrong - it was awesome. I wouldn't get out for hours, it was so nice. But it would have made a whole more sense in sandals. 

On the subject of particular words, watching Shane Dawson cover the aftermath of Tanacon. There's a schadenfreude for you right there... 

I read Clockwork orange on my way here with a train (and a supertrain, no less, because they forgot to arrange a connection for our late arrival and allowed us to board the intercity out of embarrassment ... (not a fan.)), so I was freaking about about street violence for the first few days, but then I am so charged with fascination of the after-VVitch editorial of long-haired, bearded, hairy-chested and dimly-lit W. Chaudhry, all I can chase is student Pakistani-looking tourists, sitting in the evening coffees, drinking beer and having diner with their posh American friends. Mad world. My brain, I mean :D

Friday, 6 July 2018

Okay, so the story goes like this: (in this story. History is a little different, but by now we know nobody can know what really happened, so the more drama the better...)
        Herman II, a 14th century count, is trying to stabilise his realm by wedding his clever daughter to a Hungarian king and his son to a Croatian princess, and so on - he played that game well. From the North a young but ambitious royal family of the Habsburgs is baring teeth and from the south relentless waves of Turks keep spilling into Europe, which he is trying to blockade. The firstborn, like all privileged players, fucks around and acts like a dick most of the time, hating on his father, hating on his wife, hating on his job. He takes any excuse he can think of to do so, and finds comfort in hunting and drinking and chasing chicks. At one point he runs into a minor nobleman vine-maker's daughter called Veronika. Whether she's an innocent kid or a conniving gold-digger, nobody will ever know. But this is how the royal bloodline ends: Friderik can't quit on Veronika, so his wife calls her close to be a maid-in-waiting. Elisabeth - his wife - figures he'll tire of the biddy and make a couple more kids with her, since thus far they only have a mild boy called Ulrich II. Her temper grows, however and - in this story - she curses her inability to challenge the rival to a dual, instead she challenges her to drinking a poisoned cup - one of two in a deadly game of chance. Unfortunately the desperate plan backfires and she is the one to die, while Friderik and Veronika flee, wed and try to pretend life is okay while as guests at another castle. But the army of Elisabeth's family marches for blood and Herman decides to have the girl prosecuted for witchcraft, because of course you blame the bitch. She is tried by three branches - clergy, court and common folk - and it's a commoner who refuses to sign her death warrant, saying his name will not be a henchman's sword. Alas, Herman II talks Veronika into signing her life away anyway, on pain of protecting her people, who are in the way of the army. She asks not to be beheaded but drowned instead. Friderik, unable to stand up to his father like the little pussy he is, weeps and mourns his lover and gets thrown in a newly erected tower...
         And that's pretty much it. That is how Counts of Cilli end. Nobody reproduces anymore and Frid's kid dies a Habsburg lackey while Turks advance. Effectively, Herman II for all his aggression stands the last count of Cilli. Karma reigns supreme.

Veronika musical up on the old castle (Batch 3/3)

Veronika musical up on the old castle (Batch 2/3)