cheese cubes 19.04.06

again the Lord fired up His 15 000 candle power maglight, double AA batteries included and beamed it onto me and i glowed.
thursday could have been just another day- saying farewell to a work colleague and munching volumes of hazel nutty baclava, but no, i needed a story, a story i could tell my grand kids about.

Scala, a former porno venue,theatre to the test tube careers of James Blunt and wet cotton wooled saucer to the kidney bean that was Coldplay.
i ran there hoping to get into a sold out gig. who was the band? hell i didnt know but from what i gathered from a newspaper article,they were the 'hottest shyte since godzilla soiled himself on seeing King Kong' .
i waited as a ticketless hero against the stark stuccoed wall of the Scala. 2 school girls waited in front of me,i enquired from them if there were any tickets available,they said 'no,they dont think so.' then one of them went on to quip that 'it seemed that every one seemed to be scratching their nuts today.', i followed on with 'maybe its cos its spring,its that gathering season.' we shared a chuckle.
i reached the finite point of the queue.'ticket?. 'i dont have one,are there any available?'. 'buy one from the touts', said the big massive dreadlocked bouncer, with forearms the size of boabab trees.'i dont deal with touts.' so he gently escorted me away. i figured lemme linger, cos if you linger longer you never know what might transpire. the queue eventually thinned and i returned to the bouncer,'dude are there any returns?,as the big oaf replied 'NO',that Maglite all of a sudden shone mightly hard upon me and some good chap said 'anyone want a free ticket?.' all of a sudden there were melodies in my head,symphonies were going off. again i let fate cast me deep into the river current, and with it a huge fish i did ensnarl.
the mosaiced stairway led me to the bar, i searched for the good chap.
The Scala is a tiny venue, only 800 raucous rock fans could squeeze in, 3tiers of standing room. at the back of the venue you could taste the sweat on the lead singers brow. 2 support bands pulled through,one was a jamie cullum wannabee,except he played a guitar and was a pommie,the other, a trio of rockers,all geet players called bright space.
i didnt know what to expect from OK GO,the main act. but what we were dished was paisley backgrounds and the intro to a rolling stones track. 3 mick jagger lips lookalikes and one melon with a goatee. these were chicago's latest export. they ripped into their geets like a bare knuckeld fighter to a traitorous spy. the knee jolting energy of the lead was awesomely inspiring. they howled and they squeeled and they said' f*ck off,mother f8ckers' and i lagged and i said ,sh*t these okes are damn fine,damn frikkin fine.

Sunday ascended feeling 30 kilos heavier after a night of carboloading. it resurrected itself and was greeted by a bowl of granola,warm 2% low fat milk and a slice of toast smothered in medium cheddar cheese slices.
i was off to blow some coupons on a pair of boots. i knew what i thought i wanted,i just hoped id dig them.so i chooned the store help who was as lazy as sh*t for a pair. i tried to squeeze into them but struggled,so the dude said he'd help me. trying to force my foot into the boot at a most crooked angle, my once limber body contorted and twisted liquirice-style. eventually my right foot said 'f*ck it, i dont want to be a part of you and this fiasco any more.' and so it started to send me into this pulverising,chew -my -arm-off kinda painful cramp. eventually i busted out, 'ah gsus dude let go.' the oke didnt exactly comprehend. short of kicking him unintentionally in the goons,i managed to wrangle my self free and my right foot succumbed. phew,whatever happened to cruising around barefoot?.

that day worked its way into a trip to the Thames to catch the big boat race. the titanic battle betwixt cambridge and oxford. i was pretty excited. richie and i rode shotgun in cart number 6 on a train headed for Hammersmith to meet sam and her bro.so we waited peering over all these human heads,eventually the boats arrived and then they were gone.

tuesday reared its head bucking, kicking and torquing, trying to get rid of the tassled, worn-leathered-boots-day that the tuesday work day was. i figured i was gonna try squeeze my 6-foot-so-many-inches-wire-frame into a sold out gig. but the kev gave me a jingle on the ol digital mobile.'dude wana check one flew over the cuckoos nest?' i was so keen that i bolted outta work so fast,i left my skin limp on the chair.
charing cross and there it is, The GarrickTheatre. 10 squidders and a wink to the cherry tearing tickets and we were in. we sat in the bleachers,but hey,columbus didnt just fly Easy Jet to america eating caviar and salticrax,no he suffered,,he suffereed scurvy,wood worm and a bunch of rotting deck hands. the movie for me was what some might say of War of the Worlds, the best movie ever,well not ever but it was a damn fine piece of 8mm. i expected nothing less of the stage pro-duction. slater reminded me hugely of jack nicholson with his greased back locks parked on his head like a bat, his russian bear hunting, vodka swirling raspy voice and that energy that only 7 year olds have when high on red juice.
what a great show, my bones left there feeling theyd been tickled

i went off see my mate bochy in his production of Galileo in the sticks they call guildford. bochy played the lead and i was well impressed. we went out for a toot afterwards and realised actors are just people too.

anyhoo compadres,its been fun.
so keep it cool and dont wear more than you have to,cos where the hell are you gonna put it if you gotta take it off.

sweetly
the dan russian bear hunter,master swordsman,and soon to be real fire fighting action figurine

porcini mushrooms 12.04.06

A new day began- blood red poppies, blazingly bright green emerald freshly mown lawns, carpeted grassy nolls blanketed in white daisies,blue skies as blue as a fresh pair of finely sewn levi's jeans,sunny side up sunshine oh so warm on my face and the putrid stench of dried urine and calcified sh*t. ah, i was in rome

day one saw me orientate myself-where the tourists are and where there are even more tourists. i happened to crash land my fighter jet smack bang in tourist central at the colliseum and forum vicinity-the strawberry jam of the donut that is rome. the Colliseum is simply a phenomenal master piece. i went on a guided tour of the place given by Mauro,the purple wearing jumper-and-leather jacket italian from Tivoli(and i thought tivoli was a pasta restaurant in Rosebank). Mauro came with Topgun sun glasses and a swagger like al pacino.this guy was definitely worth a chuckle. he guided us on the history of the place-the gladitorial battles that saw russel crowe become an oscar winner and the thumb up and thumb down that caesar used to determine the fate of a battered pugilist. he explained the genius of the roman builder and the construction of what would be today a modern cathedral, for today sport is a religion. he led us from the entrance to the exit and no further. he tried to sell us guide books cheap cheap. man alive what an edifice.
neighbouring the colliseum sits the palentine hill and the roman forum. i touched the stones Caesar my hero once did and all of a sudden my latin classes i did at school were becoming real to me.

the vatican city,sits on the other side of the river,it rained and cos i like to be nimble,i travelled with no coat.for nothing to remember nothing to forget. i queued for the vatican museum for as long as it would have taken me to hand wash a pair of socks in a drying river. the line was most swift and into the museum i deposited my payment fee.theres only one route to the sistine chapel,you may not go left,you may not go right,theres only one way and that's the popes way,upward and onward soldier. after wading through concrete busts,tapestries, fine bronze vases and salad bowls; through parqueted floor and marble too,upstairs and down stairs,'dont touch anything,im watching you boy' and through a pokey little door ,we finely landed smack bam hook line and sinker into its beanming luminosity-the Sistine chapel,painted by Michaelangelo. it is really quite subliminal,extra-ordinarily colourful,and most intricately detailed. i always thought the world was black and white having watched many a TNT tv show and glanced at many a photo from the early 60's and before,hmm so much for that thought.

for saint peters basillica i again queued,and boy did it rain,so some little granny grabbed my arm and pulled me under her umbrella.we walked, after a while she enquired 'you arent in our tour group,are you? 'no' i offered,she duly released my arm and left me to dissolve in the acid rain that is rome's, and off with her brollie she went. The basillica is probably the biggest space ive ever been into i felt a bit llike frodo,besides my hairy feet,i felt what its like to be one eigth my original size. again he detail is quite special,ive probably only seen this sort of detail on the once great star wars action figurines of the late 70's.
i wanted to be the non-tourist and not take a photo of the pieta-i didnt

rome was so hot i nearly spontaneoulsy combusted.

i visited pompei for the day,wow what a place,i mean i started walking into the city and thought 'gsus what an absolute dump',i could see vesuvius out in the distance and i thought 'gsus why hasnt this town been drowned in another lavatic eruption-it deserves it.eventually after 25minutes of strolling towards Vesuvius and past arbitrary fruit stalls i kind of figured i was walking in the wrong direction,after all i did ask the lady at information,i just didnt listen to her. anyhoo i felt a lil peckish-bird flu? so i picked up some sorta greasy mozzarella and congealed tomato italiante pastry and strolled, having paid a teste, into the real real pompeii. let me tell you that the romans were f8cking geniuses,there's simply no two ways about it. ive realised now in terms of my architectural education,im still that wee kidney bean experiment that kids do when theyre at school that is trying to sprout a leaf. the romans could create/manipulate space, enhance the buildings lightness through detailed mosaicing. they got their hands dirty tending beautiful gardens, they understood gutters. wow i say,wow.
pompeii is extraordinary for having been encrusted by Vesuvius' bile. only 66hectares of its roman self have been revealed and only indian jones will be able to reveal it all,stay tuned for episode 800 .phew.

my trip to pompeii forced me to stop over in naples for an hour,thank f*cking goodness. initially i thought 'wow,a new city,a new experience some new folk i could meet, hell, lemme check it out'.so i leave the terminal building and walk towards the sun, and supposedly the best pizza Italy has to offer.
what i saw around the terminal building were lunatic italians boozed to the hilt,i thought 'hey, this dirty trough aint a place for a kid with a fresh white t-shirt. the only person i met was some italian who thought i was eye-balling him,he actually intercepted me with a bit of agreesion and was about to beat me and stretch me like a mozzarella ball luckily in my best italian i just reponded 'enles engles'. he smiled and walked away from our intrepid, brave hero. ive never been so chicken sh8t. i got back to that teminal building so fast, hid behind a column and didnt look back,adieu naples adieu

i visited the jewish ghetto in rome,a tiny 2 block area,it was toitally jewish,naturally. overlooking the Tiber river sat a huge synagogue.one of or rather the most ornate synagogues id ever seen,detailed in a baroque style-gold leafed and ornate.something special ill say was the rainbow coloured glass petalled dome above. i didnt munch on a shnitzel on a bagel i rather settled for pizza from a big hairy italian,buffallo mozzarella not sold separately,yet more expensive

finely i found true rome,true italy. i needed to get away from the umbrella sellers lingering around the spanish steps awaiting a down pour. i needed to dissasociate myself from those throwing pennies into the fountain with their back to the water and getting their sugar to take a snap,i needed to extricate myself from the the oke selling little ash trays that resembled colliseums.i needed to find the real guiseppe and the real andrea and vittoria(an italian hairdresser that used to cut my hair) and the real mario and luigi. lo and behold, indiana found his temple of doom and i found my true italy and my true pasta, (cost me my nest egg,but hey). i found it across the river in trastevere. its a wee area with break knee cobble stones,and bouganvillas. a street network like abowl of tagliatelle, hordes of foxy italians and a vespa motor bike in every crevice.
for me i enjoyed that the most about rome.

ive become quiet cultured of late ,not dissimilar to a great creamy yoghurt from Woolies. i visited Moses,after searching hard for the leather sandled lad. i kept asking the guards, 'where's moses?',they just stared.
moses was phenomenal, extremely real, extremely glossy-a laser beam would surely deflect. moses was so real and that what i hope to achieve through my soon to be aon sale action toy figurine.

so my good readers i could continue scratching for hours however i dont want bleed

so until another day,farewell my far flung friends.
sweetly
the dan russian bear hunter master swordsman and soon to be action figurine,vespa and p*ss pot helmet sold separately.