Another band picke :)

There are two kinds of movies. Movies to be watched. Movies to be feared.

National gallery

So, they renovated the National gallery - I haven't been there in something like ten years. I used to know most the pieces. Of course you can't take pickies inside, so all of these are from Google. Here's the gallery now: the old part, very pretty, the new part, very spacious, and the corridors in between :)

Here are the pickes that I loved the most:

Michael Stroy: God's care

Cerkniško jezero by Marko Pernhart, though I couldn't find this particular picture. He painted large formats in romantic style, with these tiny details, like mini mini churches on top of hills, aglow in white, and then massive skies or mountains behind them:  

Then a painting of the Kotor bay, also didn't find a pickie..

Pavel Kunl: Fishmarket

Then comes Jakopič, the impressionists'  A lister:

Kamnitnik in snow:

 Saint:

  I think of all the periods in which my countrymen (yes, 99% men) excelled in art form, this one is my favourite. 

Matija Jama: Bridge over Dobra

And his Village in snow

Helena Vurnik: Annunciation

A very sad - and they were many really sad ones - statue by I. Zajec: Kozak's dream

L. Dolinar: Sphynx

Tone Kralj: a lying down nude - no pickie, and Smerdu's statue of Tiny dreams:

F. Kavčič: Myocon's tomb

J. Šubic, one of the two famous brothers Šubic: St. Cecily

Ferdo Vesel: before the wediing - I really liked this one, as it is almost exactly like my favorite painting of all time, but only found this tiny pic of it:

J. Petkovšek: The washerwomen by Ljubljanica (Love how the man setting up the line comepletely cuts across the women from teh title :D :)

M. Sternen: A street in Munich, another lovely impressionistic piece

P. Žmitek: A beggar with miniature church

The most famous of our Impressionists is Grohar and his pieces are the most lovely:

...

... And so on and so forth. There really are a LOT of pieces. I also made a list of things I didn't know or understood or simply didn't recognise the iconography of, so I have to go through that one next. Moral of the post: go see the fucking Gallery. It's intense.

Micro vacation, day 2

Micro vacation coming to an end. It went by quite quickly, actually. I went to the National Gallery today, the renovated edition. I've been there before, but it was half the size at the time and I used to know everything about every piece. A profound place, heaven-like, made me cry twice like a small child. First plain old Stendhal syndrome and the second time when I read about an old dude, a very important painter for our culture, what he was described like when a journalist saw him old in his studio. I am starting to understand he was never quite happy, he kept going to schools, having exhibitions and then burning his work afterwards - either he sucked at the time or they truly didn't understand what he was trying to do. His friends kept trying to get him commissions, but much like Diego Rivera in the Rockefeller Centre, people thought they were getting decor and when they got art, they couldn't appreciate it. He was the Godfather of the Gallery, though, and insisted on the government to fund lots of art. You have to, you see. Without the artists giving soul to the world you're in, all you got is makeup and propaganda. 

Shoot tomorrow. I hope all of it goes well. My nightmares have stopped, which is good, and I miss G godawfully, but I like the way I eat when I am here and things I read and how I think. Like: I don't care whether or not there is Heaven and Hell, I just don't approve of people believing in it - they shouldn't be the reason why anyone makes any decisions... Or: I fully comprehend that you can be a good artist by the age of forty, because concepts that change the world take this long to mature, but by forty you can decide whether you want to be miserable or not and I already knew a long time ago that I don't. I don't owe the world anything. 

And so on. 

I've made a three page list of Gallery things I liked, didn't know or didn't understand and will write in detail about it when I get home. For now I'm just chillaxing, listening to the rain and walking around the empty apartment in my underwear. It's so weird that the radiators are always on here. They are hardly ever hot in our place. It's uncomfortable to live in such a warm place in winter. I keep having the windows open to be cold. Ate light cottage cheese spread, home-made bread, gouda cheese, water and pear cookies for dinner, reading Rilke. Going home tomorrow. Home's been missed.

 This really awesome wooden butter knife i've fallen in love with...

Micro vacation, day 1

I've taken a micro vacation at the professor's again, to sort of butter over my nerves, which is working. Though the weather is fit right for the worst of depression movies, no matter, as the days are still so short the night comes quickly and then everything glitters and is pretty. I'm staying here three days, a long time by General's standards, which he claims to be enjoying immensely. I can hear him burb when we're talking on the phone, which means he's secretly been buying and drinking Coke. As far as I can tell he's just chillaxing, tired after work, watching Lucifer and X files, eating sandwiches and allowing the dog to roam around the apartment. We've spoken more about me working on a boat. I imagine this is a tiny test of our ability to stay away from one another for longer. Four days is the longest we've been separate in nine years. The interesting bit about this is, I have grown hugely co-dependent and lacking adventure courage. I always think – but if I leave now and someone in my family gets sick or something … What a terrible attitude to have! Although he is the one who got me this way, I think he misses the old me and agrees these are feats I should get back, because they made me cool.

Met with three graces yestereve, over waffles. Ema, which I refer to as a blend between a go-go dancer and a president, who is around 20, viciously beautiful, but still incredibly young and, as I stressed, needs to know more about Slovenian history and anthropology if she was going to fool around with public relations. Nina, a stand-up comedienne and barrel drummer, who is making her thesis about Pakistan and their sudden media-cowered bullying stance towards anybody who has the ill fortune of bordering on it. And Maja, the handsome, religious one, who has taken the time of lent to banish negative, all-caring attitudes and is now thinking positive, selfish thoughts and is the happiest and freshest I've seen her in a long time. It is always a good thing to put yourself first. Really. It leaves a lot more room for others to bask in your energy, as opposed to weariness and sadness that just skulks people away.

The professor and I have talked hours on end about several inter-relationship issues, most of which I chose to laugh at, disagree with or blatantly oppose. Her house is just across the river from the main hospital, which gives the neighborhood a very NewYorky feel to it, what with all the sirens coming in and out. This city deems itself fully the center of everything regarding the nation, they claim to have the most prestigious, most elitestest and bestest primary school there is, which I imagine means their alphabet has 35 letters or something. Dumb self serving fucks. The apartments here are cold white empty shitholes, costing stupid money, but of course every magazine that is published regarding anything only ever touches on the citizen of here. Gods how I hate architects. They shit gold. Everything is super pretty and super pricey. From time to time I get that chill, you know, which you get if you are naked in a hotel bathroom, in a foreign place, profound homesickness, though mostly it just makes me wish I had money so I could buy pretty things that I would seldom use. But they would be pretty. I like the professor's home, though, she is a perfect balance of minimalist and perfectionist and though the place is white, cold and empty (not really cold, I am writing this in my underwear until she wakes up, the place is a fucking sauna), it is littered with adorable detail, like a minute pestle for salt, thin tall plant with heart leaves in burgundy or a puffy white Ikea lamp. Also, of course, she has lots of books. No amount of shitty chic serves any glory when rich people don't have lots of books. We talked about some worldly renowned architect that they plan to make a monument to, which of course is only worldly famous because he made a couple of posh rich houses in the middle of the capitol, but let them have him for other rich capitol politicians.  I'm from a tiny, boring redneck town. We have big apartments with actual wooden floors from the late 18th century,  and our pets are ugly. Does make me wish I had herbs in pots, though. I have zero green thumb and all plants always die on me, but having basil, rosemary and other stuff right on your kitchen window, that sounds lovely. Course my kitchen blows, so it would be nice to have a cute little kitchen, too. Eh, well. 

She's showed me my star card, interpreting that change for me is good, I need a job, and something will occur in four months when something passes something and in four years, another big thing will occur. I kind of hope this means I will finish Goose in four months and in four years it will become an international bestseller, but it can mean everyone but me dies in a car accident also. She said there is no higher education in my future, which I am starting to believe, because I cannot find a school I would want to go to, though an interesting job might be. We put a makeshift map for General as well, but were only able to interpret that yes, he needs to start thinking in a different way, because his stability is bordering on staleness. He is about to shift jobs also. And is secretly very romantic. 

She's still asleep now, in this tiny condo, only the clock and the cat move around. Every sound is booming in this place, even me tapping the iPad, so tea will have to wait. Yes, I said tea. Or, fuck it, I'll just drink water. I'm still managing well without coffee, even despite this weather. Rain, rain. Rivers have risen and the nutrias are lazily weathering on the banks, big fat silly rats that they are. So cute. I've began reading Guns, germs and steel to find out what makes the whites the most aggressive of races, and am watching American Crime Story: ppl vs OJ Simpson, which is well enough done to keep me interested. You can see Cuba Gooding Jr. is hoping his performance will put him back in business and Sarah Poulson is also invested, though she is getting more famous but sometimes acts as if her heart wasn't really in it. They chose the Kardashians very well. Those people are fucking gruesome even when others play them. 

And a cool pickie of Tinka's hubshubs...

I've loads to report and have even written loads while away these past few days, but am too sleepy now. Will post most of it tomorrow :)

Here are a few pickies from the band photoshoot we did today: each guy a totally different person. It was awesome. They even bought me lunch. I've forgotten how much I miss R&R living :) Mental note to bum them for an interview and try and sell it to a music magazine :)

Bad mood is over; I had a nice day today. I am still slightly mentally impaired from nightmares and continue to use wrong words, but I am happier by a bunch since yesterday morning. Took grandma for another gastrospectronomy thingie, which she goes to like other people go to the movies. This means an additional hour lost, sitting in a waiting room while she tries talking to me about her medical problems, which I won't listen to. She then - she talks very loudly just to get attention - asks me stuff like: why are you being so rude/so impatient/so unfriendly', doing that fucking idiotic mean chuckle and looking at anyone who would look back. Then people give me very dirty looks, as if 'how can you be such a monster to your poor granny'. Which is all I need to get into full blown bitch mode and snarl: You wanna hear about her fucking hemorrhoid procedure for the fourth fucking time? be my guest. Tell 'em, gran," and go to the loo. So she tells everyone. bet that fucking makes their day a whole lot better.

    But it's fun all in all and it makes her happy. I told her a small lie to make her happy, too. This would be the second lie I told in the span of a week. Lying to me is like running over a kitten or burning down a forest - it happens, but it is nothing to ever want to do again. First lie was to the pastry chef audition people - I said I finished the pastry school, but nobody cared, because they said schools don't mean anything. That’s a retarded thing to say. Schools mean everything. The lie to grandma was that it was mum who bought her pretty hair pins. Mum is the kind of a dick to not buy gran anything, so I did and lied. Another thing that made gran happy. Fuck it. If I could change the world fundamentally, I would. 

    The cognitive hiccup suffered today (After telling Drej yesterday that we should only walk the dogs in the rain as far as the boat (I meant city pool.), I wanted to tell grandma not to stand in front of doors and said 'trees'. 'Don't stand in front of trees'. These inarticulate symptoms are funny and I warn everyone about them.

     After gran, I offed to get myself some breakfast and coffee (needed it, you should see the depressing fucking weather we've been having), the hurried over to the city museum, where I charmed a custodian to give me a private tour of a 'peasants revolt' exhibition. If you're looking for something dirty about this sentence, trust me, it really was a private tour of a peasants revolt expo. The lady at the register asked if I plan to write about it, in which case I'd be free to enter, but I wanted to pay and I certainly am going to be writing about it. I know exactly who I’m gonna interview. I've taken four pages of notes. The custodian spoke for an hour about a 1515 uprising, which naturally ended badly, but which was a nasty thing to begin with, on both sides. I know I am inclined to take the side of the peasants, but even after they agreed to ceasefire, some would still go raid places like a women's monastery, just for the sick kicks of it. 

      After the tour, we ran into Barbara, a young paintress working there part time, and the three of us offed for coffee, though there on mostly just B and I talked. After coffee I went to pick up the second bit of money from some people who owed me and extended my stroll to say hi to G at his workplace. Was pretty tired when I got home, so napped after noodle lunch. Started watching Ppl Vs O.J., an American Crime Story series, though it's well done and will require undivided attention, unlike Young Turks shows, which I can just listen to while doing Warcraft dailies.