tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69297993100885953322024-03-14T08:56:54.607+01:00do impossible thingsDothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.comBlogger876125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-28613829964399877992016-10-10T16:55:00.002+02:002016-10-10T16:55:27.166+02:00merely to be happy<div style="text-align: center;">
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It was a good summer. For the first time in years (half a decade, in fact), I spent more time "on the continent", in "Europe", than in the UK. I rode my bike, I spent some time in Italy, I went swimming in the Danube. I <a href="http://thddnk.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">read a lot</a>, in fields and parks. I used a lot of sunscreen. I thought about sports metaphors. Good players adjust. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. As the political context in the UK became more and more hostile, anxiety-inducing, I stopped checking twitter, started relying on radio programmes from Austria and Norway for slow news instead. At the end of the summer, I read Jean Giono's 'Voyage en Italie'. "Do I even have to mention that I have not come here to learn about Italy, but merely to be happy?" I think about it a lot.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-12078002625592649122016-06-13T15:26:00.000+02:002016-06-13T15:26:03.996+02:00plot twist<div style="text-align: center;">
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Plot twist: in which our heroine quits her job, leaves the big city, moves to a very small town, goes on a lot of walks, spends a lot of time by herself, sees more of her family than the years before, starts kind of getting into watching rowers and cricket players do their thing, texts her friends about Rihanna, politics, and other trivialities, tries to figure out what the hell adult life is, and is somehow okay with it all. </div>
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Sorry for the radio silence. Looks like I'm back! </div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-83757811054468244662016-01-19T21:44:00.003+01:002016-01-19T21:44:57.834+01:00almost over / never over<div style="text-align: center;">
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In a little over a month I will leave London for good (I assume). Hard to believe, yet not surprising. More to come.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-90504549561988471462015-09-22T22:23:00.001+02:002015-09-22T22:23:32.111+02:00but then the ecstatic month passed<div style="text-align: center;">
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21608161116/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090926"><img alt="P1090926" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5759/21608161116_e8da182d37_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21608162956/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090930"><img alt="P1090930" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/642/21608162956_55a0285cd4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21447395839/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090932"><img alt="P1090932" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/710/21447395839_869880d60c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21011538014/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090938"><img alt="P1090938" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/749/21011538014_447bd38375_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21446301640/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090952"><img alt="P1090952" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/764/21446301640_6618d2c1a7_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21446303960/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090985"><img alt="P1090985" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/607/21446303960_730bb0836c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21011544364/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090987"><img alt="P1090987" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/578/21011544364_00dbd12d12_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/21634420325/in/dateposted-public/" nbsp="" title="P1090991"><img alt="P1090991" height="480" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/637/21634420325_64a1353ea4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></u></span><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
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August: I was back from holiday, back to what felt like the death of summer. I spent two weeks housesitting in Chelsea. For the first time since moving to London I cycled to work; after work I walked around or read. It felt like a different life. I spent a blissful weekend in the countryside reading <i>A Little Life</i>, after which I stopped reading novels for a few weeks. I ate berries and counted down the days until I could escape to Vienna for some summer heat.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-83646538035810757182015-08-25T23:38:00.000+02:002015-08-25T23:38:00.810+02:00jumpers<div style="text-align: center;">
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Another British summer.</div>
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Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-81113137384204265362015-05-25T23:34:00.002+02:002015-05-25T23:34:34.525+02:00to the North<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17285122074" title="P1090693 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090693" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8829/17285122074_1685b52d60_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17285130834" title="P1090695 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090695" height="480" src="https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5325/17285130834_83b240664c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17719843348" title="P1090694 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090694" height="480" src="https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5332/17719843348_fc0fb9fb6e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17287243663" title="P1090701 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090701" height="480" src="https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7663/17287243663_d75ae9d7d3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17720123010" title="P1090704 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090704" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8863/17720123010_f148bd5b07_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I spend a lot of time on trains. I also spend a lot of time in Kings Cross, and in a way Kings Cross feels more like home than almost everywhere else in London. As soon as I get on a train, as soon as that train pulls out of the station and I'm on my way to "the North", I relax. Even on that overcrowded train last Friday: the air condition wasn't working, people were sitting in the corridor, it was kinda terrible. But hey, the one thing I've learned since living here is that you got to make the most out of being in a confined space for more than an hour. Time to read an entire newspaper. Time to catch up on all those magazine articles. Time to read a book without being interrupted. Time to complete several levels on duolingo (I'm currently learning French and waiting for them to drop Norwegian.)</div>
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It's nice to have friends in other places. It's nice to have friends. It's nice to hang out in Edinburgh for four days and do all of these things and more: drink cardamom hot chocolate on 3 out of 4 days; go to the cinema at two in the afternoon; listen to your best friend perform at his choir's concert; walk everywhere; finally buy Sufjan Stevens' last album; talk and talk and talk. It's nice to explore no-longer-abandoned buildings. It's nice.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-8163981894496512952015-05-20T22:31:00.000+02:002015-05-20T22:31:20.040+02:00the aftermath<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17139838457" title="P1090673 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090673" height="480" src="https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7745/17139838457_8c46e481c1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17159453618" title="P1090677 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090677" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8886/17159453618_638c55fbe8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17321281306" title="P1090682 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090682" height="480" src="https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7743/17321281306_b9c25ac9d8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></u></span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16909594345" title="P1090577 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090577" height="480" src="https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7611/16909594345_9b1eafffd2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16909595115" title="P1090579 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090579" height="480" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8741/16909595115_56a805787f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/17346915271" title="P1090621 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090621" height="480" src="https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7793/17346915271_2886ca4d60_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The morning after didn't feel like a morning after at all, it felt unreal, it felt absurd, my friend tweeted "Something terrible has happened" and that was that. We stayed on the sofa until noon, until all the party leaders had resigned like in those grim semi-dystopian pieces journalists used to write four years ago. </div>
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We had come home late, made dinner late, put away the dishes and then sat down for the exit poll. 10pm. I slid my hand into Peter's. His friend, our reliable expert for polls and political gossip, texted him, all in caps, a signifier of how extraordinary things were. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? An hour later we went to bed. I had decided to nap strategically, to get up again a few hours later to watch the results come in. When I crawled out of bed at two in the morning I felt wide awake. David Dimbleby was still going strong. I made tea. I ate cereal. I checked twitter. I texted my friend. Peter joined me on the sofa. I recited the names of those who had lost their seats. At six in the morning we went back to bed. When we woke up everything was the same and everything was a bit bleaker. All those conversations over the past few months with family members, with friends, with colleagues, all pointless.</div>
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After Ed Miliband had resigned I went to work. I stood in the sunshine at Green Park, waiting for my bus, and stared hard at the businessmen. I felt terrible. I haven't stopped feeling terrible. </div>
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<a href="https://locasinlove.bandcamp.com/track/es-tut-mir-leid" target="_blank">Es tut mir leid, es tut mir so so so leid</a></div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-18632658342053963432015-02-01T22:41:00.002+01:002015-02-01T22:41:44.553+01:00lately<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15278085491" title="CNV00031 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00031" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5561/15278085491_27a58f8d69_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15799259664" title="P1090519 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090519" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7342/15799259664_1b03b07415_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16420825952" title="P1090480 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090480" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7403/16420825952_d88382c078_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Life! A few months ago I started taking Norwegian classes again. It immediately turned into the highlight of my week. I thought I'd find Thursday evening classes a bit much, but no! I love everything about it. The strangest thing about learning a language is that I keep being asked why, when it's really purely for pleasure. And for the thrill of accessing books and films in a different language, especially ones that usually don't make it to the Anglo-American or German market. It feels like being let in on a secret. </div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-74508698500899040642015-01-04T23:38:00.002+01:002015-01-04T23:38:54.079+01:00last leaves<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16198770752" title="P1090443 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090443" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7554/16198770752_42e37f46dd_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16173747676" title="P1090444 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090444" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7542/16173747676_9423744a45_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15579771173" title="P1090450 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090450" height="480" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7526/15579771173_f139459f74_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/16012244480" title="P1090462 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090462" height="480" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8564/16012244480_9bc1dbeca9_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><a href="http://lostandlonesome.com.au/band_info.php?id=35&desc=last-leaves" target="_blank">but the past is just a single star motel / it's nowhere you should dwell / a room to rest a while</a></i></div>
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Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-79750372361485858872014-11-06T14:22:00.001+01:002014-11-06T14:22:25.106+01:00like gold<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15280775752" title="CNV00018 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00018" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3836/15280775752_b2536fd6e3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094598458" title="CNV00016 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00016" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5587/15094598458_a6b3c34ccb_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094460980" title="CNV00015 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00015" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5560/15094460980_6601630d4d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094407429" title="CNV00014 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00014" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3923/15094407429_64a62d7846_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15258147666" title="CNV00019 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00019" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3872/15258147666_69c79ac6ce_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094411799" title="CNV00020 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00020" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5553/15094411799_f619b6a0d0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15281172345" title="CNV00021 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00021" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3908/15281172345_67bf68f860_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15280779512" title="CNV00022 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00022" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5590/15280779512_d78cd4e821_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094616847" title="CNV00024 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00024" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3924/15094616847_fde7051d36_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15278046361" title="CNV00025 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00025" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3848/15278046361_3ff59b43a3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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That September day was golden. Like so many late summer days in this town.</div>
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Last week I finished the biggest project that I've worked on so far. Since then I've been to the National Gallery to look at Italian art from the 16th century, and spent another perfect weekend in East Sussex, where we did precisely nothing. I went to Erlend Oye's gig in London, which was absolutely fantastic, and I flew to Vienna, where I'm currently curled up in bed, getting ready to walk through those same streets that you can see above, bathed in grey almost wintery light instead of the golden glow of a late summer.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-44453810920956048942014-10-16T00:43:00.003+02:002014-10-16T00:43:45.376+02:00great museums<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15280803822" title="CNV00002 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00002" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3844/15280803822_a800646648_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15280804702" title="CNV00003 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00003" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3905/15280804702_dc4e418a6d_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15278073131" title="CNV00012 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00012" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3896/15278073131_c4850b2d2c_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15280811602" title="CNV00018 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00018" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3838/15280811602_a037e52d23_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094447249" title="CNV00019 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00019" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5592/15094447249_fccd9b120a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15278079391" title="CNV00020 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00020" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5552/15278079391_69ca9931b6_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094502130" title="CNV00022 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00022" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3888/15094502130_48eb3e6180_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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A couple of weeks ago my friend texted me to meet her in the Scottish National Gallery. I was there a bit early, so I just sat down with a book and immediately felt at home. There's something soothing about big galleries and museums, especially when they're not packed with people. I miss working in a museum, the behind-the-scenes glimpses, wandering through a massive building after it has closed or before it had opened. The tranquility of big, empty rooms. The repetitive soundscape of installations and videos. Work based around objects and stories.</div>
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The galleries we went to in Copenhagen were wonderful, and this is were all the snapshots are from. I wish I was there now to spend more time looking at Danish art and Roman sculpture. As a short trip to Copenhagen is not an option at the moment I'm looking forward to <a href="http://vimeo.com/104375611" target="_blank">The Great Museum</a> instead: a new documentary about the biggest art museum in Vienna, which is being screened at the BFI film fest this week. I can't wait.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-70460464358948578732014-10-12T23:25:00.003+02:002014-10-12T23:25:45.539+02:00dogs and horses<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15519545625" title="P1090396 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090396" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3943/15519545625_8b5d94daca_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15516378001" title="P1090413 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090413" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5604/15516378001_e8b5a837a2_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15516375891" title="P1090383 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090383" height="480" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5602/15516375891_4fb5b84990_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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All I can say is that this is a pretty perfect way to spend a weekend. Excitable small puppy? Yes. Farmers market? Yes. Sunday papers? Yes. Good food? Yes. A soft bed? Yes. Holding hands? Double yes. Discussing the Scottish referendum and almost missing our stop? Triple yes.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-84217098307898692742014-09-29T23:32:00.001+02:002014-09-30T10:54:22.891+02:00heartland<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15281128545" title="CNV00022 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00022" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3838/15281128545_0d59a51b9e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15281129595" title="CNV00023 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00023" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3864/15281129595_3b740d397a_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15278000001" title="CNV00020 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00020" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3844/15278000001_6186f90a02_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My yearning for the countryside increases day by day. Give me a lake and a mountain over rows of identical terrace houses any day.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-74882865945183960482014-09-18T22:51:00.000+02:002014-09-18T22:51:01.592+02:00Was this really just two weeks ago?<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15094588708" title="CNV00001 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00001" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5554/15094588708_d3cfbb4b19_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15281160005" title="CNV00002 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00002" height="429" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3848/15281160005_bdd36774cf_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15281135895" title="CNV00035 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00035" height="429" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5589/15281135895_610c3f40d8_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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A Friday evening on the hill overlooking our city: it was warm, someone had brought two tiny puppies. It was a good week, that first week of September. Later that evening I would go over to my friend and watch the <a href="http://www.dailydot.com/geek/fan-made-loki-supercut-brother-of-thor/" target="_blank">Loki supermix</a> because I'm a Serious Adult. Earlier that day I had had breakfast (twice) and seen a <a href="http://www.musa.at/aktuell-vorschau-ausstellungen-musa-wien/museum/ausstellungen-aktuell/vorschau-wien-blicke" target="_blank">photography exhibition</a> I really liked. I was so happy that I didn't even feel gloomy about my impending return to London. </div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-91492002387876027532014-09-10T22:43:00.000+02:002014-09-10T22:43:22.299+02:00the good kind of transit<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/15129041095" title="IMG-20140824-00930 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140824-00930" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3892/15129041095_0afd695f0d_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14942462797" title="IMG-20140822-00921 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140822-00921" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3925/14942462797_753183bbd1_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14942328229" title="IMG-20140829-00948 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140829-00948" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3900/14942328229_6556b909b7_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14995356829" title="P1090296 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090296" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3844/14995356829_c6299e3701_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14995357819" title="P1090298 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="P1090298" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3904/14995357819_14eff23eaa_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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We had taken several trains around Italy, but in the weeks leading up to the trip I had been looking forward to this particular train journey the most - indeed it was the only ticket I had bought in advance, before I had even booked a flight to Italy: the train from Venice to Carinthia in Southern Austria, where I was planning to meet my brothers for a couple of days by the lakes and mountains.
There are few things that are lovelier than sitting on a quiet train - with a compartment to oneself! - and watching the mountains come closer and closer. Slowly, the landscape changed, from flat land to stark stony mountains, until it eventually turned into hills and mountains covered in deep forests. We drove through tunnel after tunnel, and every time I looked up, the landscape was more familiar. Everything was sweet and delightful: the small piece of peach cake that I had bought that morning in Bologna from a friendly baker, now crumbling; the guitar solo in the song I was listening to, ‚Impossible Germany‘ by Wilco; the books I was reading: ‚The Baron in the Trees‘ by Italo Calvino, which I had started reading on the train to Ravenna, and which I now finished on the train to Austria, having thoroughly enjoyed every single page; and ‚My Salinger Year‘ by Joanna Rakoff, which I had bought in Bologna. This was the perfect book to read on a trip that would include my attendance at a conference where I would represent my institution, a task that seemed daunting and made me feel both very young and very much in control. A book about a young woman trying to figure out what work, and life, is all about? Yes please. (It also felt like a Nora Ephron film turned into an autobiography, which is a definite plus.)</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-80618607983570905482014-08-10T22:04:00.001+02:002014-08-10T22:04:38.499+02:00moving<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14556750936" title="CNV00023 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00023" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5593/14556750936_f49c24feb9_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14579061632" title="CNV00021 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00021" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3864/14579061632_ae78be6320_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393201078" title="CNV00020 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00020" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3899/14393201078_b5c6c52423_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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This is what my walk to work (or rather: to the tube station - this is <i>definitely</i> not Knightsbridge) looks like. Used to look like. There are boxes in the hallway and bags in my room. In true London style, our landlady has sold the flat and it's time to say goodbye to the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13547046713">park</a> outside <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/11463937214/">my window</a>. To observing the kids in hoodies who took shelter under the trees. To hearing the skaters on the ramps and the children in the playground. I liked waking up to the trees. </div>
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Summer. I've been: working (good), reading Karl Ove Knausgård (also good), watching Gilmore Girls (very good, Jess forever), drinking copious amounts of Rooibos (no caffeine!), getting into oil cleansing (yes), listening to <a href="http://youtu.be/kHrAjj4s0CU" target="_blank">this</a> New Order song a lot (<i>my life ain't no holiday</i>). Oh and I finally got a Netflix account. So many 90s romcoms! </div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-72197637588737306852014-08-02T13:20:00.004+02:002014-08-02T13:20:57.504+02:00a summer evening<center>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14621916317" title="IMG-20140717-00834 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140717-00834" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2931/14621916317_4aa8372df2_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></center>
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It was hot in Paris. We stayed in a tiny flat near the Sorbonne. I wandered around by myself a little, but there's something about Paris that is so similar to Vienna that I'm incapable of doing any sightseeing, or really, anything productive. One evening I ended up in a little side street for half an hour. I just sat on some steps and listened to the swallows. Swallows remind me of summer; I remember lying in bed on long, warm summer days in Vienna, listening to the swish swish of the curtains, the swallows crying out to each other, the distant street sounds. </center>
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It was nice. I always feel like continental European cities are made for walking around, looking at things, being at home in the streets. It's one of the things I miss most.</center>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-18737185779939725102014-07-27T10:38:00.001+02:002014-07-27T10:38:12.249+02:00Snapshots from Copenhagen<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14752580795" title="IMG-20140722-00848 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140722-00848" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2913/14752580795_91dbb28108_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14749430281" title="IMG-20140724-00879 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140724-00879" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3860/14749430281_4388886810_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14565934148" title="IMG-20140723-00859 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140723-00859" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2926/14565934148_1ec6ab0374_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14565898920" title="IMG-20140722-00858 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140722-00858" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3847/14565898920_9c417df0db_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14772452763" title="IMG-20140722-00851 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140722-00851" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3837/14772452763_d5216c0441_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14732270646" title="IMG-20140723-00866 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140723-00866" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3913/14732270646_81856df14a_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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Back from Paris and Copenhagen and my feelings about this development are accurately summed up by <a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/b8/3f/c0/b83fc08b5f7893e888dd18f6a28a8c5f.jpg" target="_blank">this image</a>. I do love continental Europe. Copenhagen was a dream. We stayed in an amazing flat (thanks, airnbnb!) where we assembled a number of simple pasta dishes and salads, watched cheesy films, and both read the Iliad. In the evenings we walked past the lakes to the nearest supermarket and watched the runners race past us. During the day we walked everywhere else and drank approximately 700 juices and smoothies and (in Peter's case) ginger shots that would make your eyes water. The bookshops were pretty spectacular.<br />
Conclusio: Copenhagen is as fantastic as everyone says it is, but it also felt strangely familiar. All those apartment buildings, all those bikes, the well-designed supermarkets, the tasty bread and water. As I sat on a packed bus back to my flat in London - on a bus because the tube wasn't running to my stop and I had to take a 45 minute detour - it already felt like a dream. Exit plan: continental Europe.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-21075672574939470462014-07-14T23:00:00.000+02:002014-07-14T23:00:18.799+02:00reading and holidaying<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393263147" title="CNV00002 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00002" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5520/14393263147_c22ddd3972_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14599789303" title="CNV00003 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00003" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3893/14599789303_6e31bbdc7f_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14577905514" title="CNV00008 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00008" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5475/14577905514_d9ef048c39_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14556617986" title="CNV00012 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00012" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3853/14556617986_7ddec1ff5c_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14599795343" title="CNV00017 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00017" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5520/14599795343_c37c707f3c_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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Pictures of a perfect June weekend in Vienna, packed with sun, football, Edmund de Waal's perfect <a href="http://www.edmunddewaal.com/making/exhibitions-and-installations/theseus-temple/" target="_blank">installation</a> in the Theseus temple, and so many loved ones.</div>
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Since my return to London I have been reading like I used to read as a teenager, reading to distract myself: The Paris Review (interviews with Alan Hollinghurst and Jeffrey Eugenides; short stories by Clarice Lispector; poetry); Eleanor Catton (<i>The Rehearsal</i> and <i>The Luminaries</i>); Asko Sahlberg's <i>The Brothers</i> ; Lukas Bärfuss' <i>Koala</i>; The Iliad; <i>The Rime of the Modern Mariner</i> by Nick Hayes.</div>
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I have started to read differently. Of the books listed above, Catton was the first New Zealand author (other than Katherine Mansfield, whom I always think of as British) I'd read; Sahlberg possibly the first Finnish author; Bärfuss the first Swiss author in years and years (and what a fantastic book it is - here's hoping it'll be translated into English); and <i>The Rime of the Modern Mariner </i>is only my second graphic novel, and, like the first, was given to me as a gift.</div>
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All new to me because in my heart of hearts I'm always secretly looking for the next <i>Middlemarch</i>. There are few things that I like more than a truly absorbing 600-page Victorian novel - no surprise then that I loved, loved, loved <i>The Luminaries</i>! I've been stuck in my ways for a long, long time. I've absorbed much of the English-language canon; I've read more in English than I have in German. Ironically, my job has made me much more aware of how difficult it is for German-language authors to get translated into English; how closed off and conservative the book market can be; how much we're missing out on. I am now determined to change my own reading patterns, to improve my foreign language skills, to seek out literature in translation.</div>
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And to seek out literature in languages that I can actually read (sort of), but never really practice. On this note: I'm off to Paris and Copenhagen for my first non-Austrian, non-UK holiday in over a year. Send any tips and recommendations my way (book-related or café-related or something else entirely). I'm mostly looking forward to tall apartment buildings, cafés that specialise in porridge, and long walks.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-16090228097891339772014-07-07T23:20:00.000+02:002014-07-07T23:20:25.294+02:00here for a year<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393279587" title="CNV00036 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00036" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3900/14393279587_9de112a5cd_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393021830" title="CNV00006 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00006" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5565/14393021830_f171f561e6_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14556756086" title="CNV00029 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00029" height="536" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2903/14556756086_903d0ca6e9_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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This is me in 2014: in Edinburgh a few days ago, in Vienna a couple of weeks ago, and in Sheffield for the Doc Fest. I have been reading novels and short stories and essays hungrily. I have started taking pictures with my grandfather's old camera again. I have made plans and jokes and I have spent my lunch hour with friends and I have watched football by myself in the pub. I have been in London for a year. I have been in London for a year and nothing sums up this year better than this: I have watched football by myself in the pub.<br />
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I always felt that watching football (or any other sport - preferably stuff involving snow) encourages and enables my favourite form of togetherness, a kind of lazy quietude where no one says anything clever, where no one says anything at all even, where you reach a level of comfort where you can just float away into a sea of banality. It takes years, perhaps a lifetime, to reach that point. Definitely not something that you get when you watch football by yourself in a pub.<br />
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A year in which I have learned to love those I love even more. Because every time I see them (too rarely), I'm struck anew by how much I like them. Or, as my brother said when he dropped me off at the airport, 'Maybe I'll come visit you in London after all. Every time I see you I remember how much I like you and how much I like spending time with you.' Same, little brother. Same.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-6569417374368456312014-07-05T21:21:00.000+02:002014-07-07T15:14:25.148+02:00up<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14577912734" title="CNV00032 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00032" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5564/14577912734_2d140bf0ba_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14578933672" title="CNV00025 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00025" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3898/14578933672_f6666c2f66_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14577910604" title="CNV00024 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00024" height="536" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2930/14577910604_340247ddf9_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393097199" title="CNV00033 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00033" height="536" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5313/14393097199_8b2a228254_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393078068" title="CNV00034 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00034" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3901/14393078068_cdb9043952_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14393079128" title="CNV00035 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00035" height="536" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3875/14393079128_44cdb23bb8_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14580471402" title="CNV00029 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="CNV00029" height="536" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2910/14580471402_07355fe3e8_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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Last week I took the train to Scotland. The East Coast mainline is my happy place - sitting down for the journey up North always feels like a treat, an escape. Kevin lives in Edinburgh and he had decided that we would climb a mountain. Peter came up for the day, we all took a train to Pitlochry, bought bread and nuts and apples, and then started walking uphill. It was windy and quiet and excellent. In the mountains I feel free. When we reached the peak we found a place that was sheltered from the wind, sunny and warm. It was just us three up there, eating and talking and laughing. Then we walked back down and ate so much fudge that some of us felt quite ill.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-2232745370979006852014-06-14T10:02:00.000+02:002014-06-14T10:02:56.232+02:00a bubble<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14437879823" title="IMG-20140606-00736 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140606-00736" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2933/14437879823_133af5b2d6_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14416556304" title="IMG-20140613-00750 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140613-00750" height="600" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3855/14416556304_fc6efb20e0_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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It was a Wednesday night and we were discussing the differences in mentality and temperament between various German speaking countries. We: an Australian who had lived in the UK, Germany, and Austria, and had settled in London. We: a Swiss person who repeatedly expressed regret, confusion, despair about his country's referendum on migration. We: me, quietly amused because I felt like I had had similar conversations with a wide range of people before. When German-speakers meet, they will analyse each other. Endlessly. Their perceived national characteristics. When German-speakers meet in the UK, there is an implicit understanding that we are more alike here than we will ever be at home - at home, where we often feel like we have nothing in common. Until we find ourselves in a beautiful flat in London on a Wednesday night, and realise that, as much as we wish it weren't so, countries do shape mentalities and sparkling wine loosens the tongue. (I don't drink sparkling wine.)</div>
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Where were we? In a beautiful flat near the Barbican which belongs to a cultural attaché who had invited us for an intimate networking dinner. "Intimate" "networking" "dinners" are precisely as odious as the words suggest and I'm still not sure how I got invited to one. At this one, however, I ended up at a table with people I knew and liked, and it felt more like having dinner with people who exist in that strange no man's land that I find impossible to navigate, somewhere between casual acquaintance, work contact, and almost friend. My shoulders relaxed slightly as I sat down.</div>
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A little later the violist who sat next to me would turn to me and say, 'I know it's ridiculous, but I only wear APC jeans' and I'd raise my eyebrows and laugh. A little later, I'd walk to the tube stop with a composer who, slightly tipsy, held a brief and touching, very earnest monologue on the merits and inherent timelessness of classical music.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-26758046102805750352014-05-17T21:52:00.001+02:002014-05-17T21:53:09.390+02:00look<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14203746421" title="IMG-20140517-00700 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140517-00700" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5491/14203746421_0cbf3dcfda_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14020369949" title="IMG-20140517-00697 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140517-00697" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5572/14020369949_eaf4c0ce59_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14206909564" title="IMG-20140515-00694 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140515-00694" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5280/14206909564_f168e9f358_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14020366668" title="IMG-20140511-00670 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140511-00670" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2927/14020366668_a7a6c59b31_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14203741751" title="IMG-20140515-00691 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140515-00691" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5539/14203741751_7d4abe30e7_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I guess life is just an endless stream of banalities, and much of the internet reflects that. It only acquires meaning when you personally connect with that person posting a picture of their cappuccino. My life is as banal, as boring, as everyone else's - possibly even more so. I send the boring pictures on my phone to Peter, to my brothers, my mum, my best friend. Look, this is my life. It's not exciting, but I thought of you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look, cacti live on the windowsills of the cinema in Hackney. I saw The Two Faces of January, I think you would have liked it, Viggo Mortensen is amazing, isn't he? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look, a Swedish café opened not five minutes from where I live, I went there this morning and ate a cinnamon bun, can you imagine how happy that makes me, to have a local café that I love? The LRB had a couple of articles about Marxism, one of them trying<a href="http://www.lrb.co.uk/v36/n06/michael-kulikowski/odysseus-one-oligarchs-nil" target="_blank"> to read the Iliad in a Marxist light</a>, I rolled my eyes a lot and thought of how much you'd hate it, the scathing terms with which you'd tear the article apart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look, this is my face, my hair, it's blue, lilac, this is what I look like when I make new friends. We went to see <a href="http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/shows/the-drowned-man-a-hollywood-fable" target="_blank">The Drowned Man</a> and I wanted to take a selfie for you to show you the mask I was wearing, but I think I'd rather take you to see it yourself. I thought I wouldn't like The Drowned Man, I wasn't sure about immersing myself, but I loved it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look, this is my reading material for this week, this is a good Sunday. I loved <i>The Charioteer</i> so much, so much that I failed at explaining to my friends why I loved it. As far as I am concerned it's a perfect novel, an extension or counterpart to Iris Murdoch's <i>The Bell </i>(which, as we all know, is my favourite book). The title refers to the Plato myth (souls, horses, etc.), and when I realised that was the case I sighed a tortured little sigh. Ignore the cover or the blurbs on it, read <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/nov/03/the-charioteer-mary-renault-review" target="_blank">Rachel Cooke's review in The Guardian</a> instead (which is why I bought it - although I disagree with her that "<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">it sometimes seems overly preoccupied with ethics, with high-minded considerations of how a man might live a good and honourable life" - this is pretty much exactly what I love in a novel, give me all your high-minded considerations of goodness please! Maybe that's why I never warmed to most contemporary fiction.</span>) Read this book.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look, I printed out this poster for you once when you weren't sure about what to do with your life because sometimes simple messages help, even if they're cheesy, even if they feel like hipster self-help, even if they reappear in a shop window in soulless Knightsbridge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Look. I'm not with you, but I'm thinking of you. I've been listening to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cil-Pu8TJ_U" target="_blank">this wonderful recording</a> of Owen Pallett/Final Fantasy with the Radio Symphony Orchestra Vienna all week, a concert that I attended. It's beautiful, a real treat, and it will make you feel things.</span>Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-16715726968693325092014-05-11T12:43:00.000+02:002014-05-11T12:43:36.165+02:00Two lives: London<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14158565234" title="IMG-20140430-00636 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140430-00636" height="600" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7416/14158565234_94d37a09c0_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13971782749" title="IMG-20140430-00637 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140430-00637" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5471/13971782749_947b85e2c4_c.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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Another tube strike last week; I slept in the smallest guest room at work. The only redeeming factor of this arrangement was that I got to go 'running' in Hyde Park in the morning. My office is not even five minutes from the park. I'm very bad at running, but I like being out and about first thing in the morning. Running is basically an excuse to leave the house in what could be pyjamas, and very ugly shoes, and to observe other runners, people with their dogs, trees, and in this case, people swimming in the Serpentine, or riding their horses.</div>
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London: I went to the cinema and saw 'Frank', which I hated - my eyes hurt by the end because I had been constantly rolling them for an hour and a half; a documentary about the poet Michael Hamburger, which I loved; 'M', which we (i.e., the place where I work) were screening; and 'Captain America', because I love a depressing superhero film, and after which it took almost two hours to get back to the flat, two hours in which I almost lost the will to live. </div>
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London: I have been reading the cluster of magazines that I now have subscriptions for, thoughtful gifts from myself and others; an Anthony Trollope novel which is slightly too ironic and knowing for me to really enjoy it - a shame because I haven't read a Victorian novel I really enjoyed in a long time, and I thought this might be the one; and a book about the 'Radical Case for Scottish Independence', which is excellent. </div>
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London: I have drunk glass after glass of beetroot smoothies, cups of green chai. I had a day off (the first of May, a public holiday in Austria) and dyed my hair for the first time. Just the tips. Lilac. </div>
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London: I distract myself.</div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929799310088595332.post-7832953654713413122014-05-11T11:44:00.001+02:002014-05-11T11:44:26.061+02:00Two lives: Vienna<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13984483232" title="IMG-20140422-00610 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140422-00610" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2912/13984483232_7807774bf1_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14007684383" title="IMG-20140419-00603 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140419-00603" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2939/14007684383_3211816d85_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13984522171" title="IMG-20140423-00614 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140423-00614" height="600" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7064/13984522171_cf507eb005_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13988133964" title="IMG-20140423-00615 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140423-00615" height="600" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5271/13988133964_bbb5e3c6b1_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13971810778" title="IMG-20140424-00616 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140424-00616" height="600" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7396/13971810778_055c1e346a_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/13971776177" title="IMG-20140427-00622 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140427-00622" height="600" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2907/13971776177_6ca903a57c_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14178514863" title="IMG-20140427-00626 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140427-00626" height="600" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7418/14178514863_074be14c6c_c.jpg" width="800" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dotdashdotdash/14135264996" title="IMG-20140427-00631 by Dot Dash, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG-20140427-00631" height="600" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7459/14135264996_f8fb1de1ba_c.jpg" width="800" /></a>
More than anything, I now notice how quiet it is when I go home to Vienna. I had noted this before, before I first moved away even: the all-encompassing tranquility in its streets. I walked the streets at night, leisurely, slowly. I sat in parks during the day. I really do the same things wherever I am (walking, parks, bookshops, cafés, bakeries, cinemas, galleries and museums, observing other passengers on public transport, tea shops and COS), but it feels more natural in some cities than in others.<br />
In Vienna, I went to the cinema three, four times. The cinemas are cheap and small and old and I don't think too hard about whether a film is 'worth' spending money on; on Saturday nights and Thursday afternoons there are middle-aged ladies talking right up until the film begins, students, elderly men, couples. I saw 'Her' (excellent, to my great surprise), Yves Saint Laurent (rubbish), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2650978/?ref_=nv_sr_1">The Dark Valley</a> (a Western set in the Alps, highly recommended!). I had some time to kill in between seeing best friends and popped into the architecture museum to see an exhibition <a href="http://www.azw.at/event.php?event_id=1444&lang_id=en">about socially responsible architecture</a>. I felt anxious and sought refuge in a bookshop, where I bought my first Robert Walser novel. I sat in my brother's car and he played Haim, he played Mozart's Requiem, he played Britney Spears, all in one seamless playlist.<br />
The city was filled with posters advertising the EU election, advertising the different parties. The radio, the papers all cover the EU election extensively. The parliament is covered in a giant banner: Our Europe, Your Choice. I feel emotionally and intellectually invested in Europe, in the EU; the indifference and stupidity of the general discourse about the EU in the UK never ceases to amaze me, and the basic lack of information or interest makes me sad.<br />
I write this sitting in my kitchen in Walthamstow, E17, London, and Vienna seems like a dream. Yesterday the Austrian performer won Eurovision (not Austria, never Austria: if it had been up to 'Austria', the performer would never have been picked - because Austria is still a conservative, small-minded country, and as a commentator pointed out that no, it wasn't Austria that won but someone who supported the idea of tolerance and <a href="https://twitter.com/GeorgOstenhof/status/465266284578734080" target="_blank">'die Vielfalt von Lebensentwürfen'</a>). Today I'm listening to Simon & Garfunkel, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z9wd9bS1FM" target="_blank">this song</a> in particular. </div>
Dothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15065060617019656361noreply@blogger.com0