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The goldfish
The goldfish has no word for ennui, I imagine. Your life on the other hand...
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The Music of my Life
Every two years, we try and discuss the last two years in song. It is, as I have said it before, time. I sound manic depressive with these music choices, don't I? ;-) September 2010: (Basel) Nowadays (You can like the life you're living/ You can
First person narratives
How does this work?
So, I was flying from Vancouver to Brussels on seat 14A. As I was contemplating the distance to which I had to toss my bag into the hold, a tall man sauntered up the aisle and said... "Sorry." I was confused, apologised myself and sat down in my
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The Monologue of the Blogger as a Youngish Lady
Or this must be where I grow up. In the rustling of a few calender pages, The days, swiftly, they change. I remember those halcyon days, I do, Of reversed Cs, E's and two times two. Before confusion beset my poor soul, Before I assumed this responsible role,
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The littlest note
I was talking to my 12 year old American cousin about the whole war on terror thing, when she looked at her mother and asked, "How did 9/11 lead to a war in Iraq?" There's a whole generation out there that does not understand the
Third person narratives
Love's follies Part II
"... and a dash of chivalry", she peered out from the top of her book at the person lying on the table. "Am I missing something here?", she mused. "I have gone through dark hair, blue eyes, rugged jawline, good looks, Viking physique, charm, courtliness, erudition,
Third person narratives
Classic retellings
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain flowed from the gargoyles overlooking the central square, dripping over their bulbous noses into the metal gutters installed around the first floor, gushing through the plastic pipes into the ground under the cobbled streets where it would meet the city'
Please don't stop the Music
Viva la Vida
I usually have my own ideas about music <as chronicled before>. That was almost two years ago. A lot of water has passed under the bridge. The bridge still stands, a little more worn, a little worse for the wear, battle-worn but still steadfast. And yet, the water
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Cutting a Tale Short
Yes. You don't have to tell me. I am short. Haha. Yes, I know... I'd probably need a fairly large stool to see eye to eye with you. No, my name is not Shorty. No, it's not Shrimpy either. Grr. You can thank your
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The Meridian
It's amazing how the mind tricks you into believing that this is the "new normal". You work everyday in the most beautiful campus in Switzerland, cooped in a room you not-so-lovingly refer to as the dungeon. You stagger home every night (or morning) at 2 AM
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Notes to myself
There's a print of Gustav Klimt's "Kiss" on opposite me and that of "Death" on my board. There's something vaguely disurbing about this juxtaposition- I just can't put my finger on it. I have become a complete homebody.
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Some nights
You can't sleep. And you sit up, thinking. This is one of those nights.