the intricacies of a ranting mind

Another Friday night and the rounds begin swiftly, because the City never sleeps. As we ready ourselves for the first and long awaited shot, nursing our worries and petty grievances, I have ceased to wonder why it should make us so happy. Coming from a nation of drinkers and working in the heavily internationalised, alcohol-imbued environment at the Docklands, with the industry pushing Credit Suisse brokers to jump off buildings in front of their partners (younger than me, by the way, which means I stand a pretty chance),there is little to wonder that gulping down the pint in an effort to forget 2 hours of daily commuting on crowded trains and the combined effects of data handling and anti social behaviour arouse us like veteran drunks.

there appears to be no life untouched by the pub and there is little the world is presenting nowadays which elates us in a different manner....

...and it kind of takes your brain, or whatever is left of it, with it. Latest ironic news from the docklands is that while huge corporations are using me to help get into people's minds, erratic e-mails haunt the community with panick-striking announcements like floods on DLR on a late Friday evening (as if the security threat which cost me half an hour yesterday, as train aborted passengers at Crossharbour, weren't enough).

so, where's the water? (jolly good inspiring question, Lu!)

right, re: pics. i'll try to upload them. i judged this particular blog's interface as 'medium' on a scale measuring user friendliness, so am not going to be particularly happy with result, I gather.

which reminds me: please send the drawings a.s.a.p. if you're reading this and if not i will pester you with e-mails as i really want them and thought of converting them.

am knackered, cheers

Many happy returns and a happy 2008 to all of us and especially to the merriest crowd who made my X-mas unforgettable!
Cannot think of anything intelligent to say in the new year, except:

-'PARADOX' was a freakish word to mime (do applaud us)
-yes, we're telepathic
-no, I COULD have slept on the floor
-okay, moooom
-thank Heaven we were not on THAT plane

love from
the tired clown

PS Got the photos so get ready to view

When Pavarotti died, I was in my living room drinking coffee and I choked on it. We knew it was a matter of hours, but the shock wore all of Italy down and caused havoc in my neighbourhood. I heard his name mentioned at the post office, at the market, in church, at work.

What Big Luciano has given to music, despite his tantrums and controversial lifestyle, is inestimable. And last night BBC decided to honour his memory by showing the Three Tenors' concert in Rome.

Needless to say that with Calaf's aria in Turandot, by now his trademark, he gave us a sheer heart attack and had us shedding tears in our spumante, doubtlessly topping all our Best of the Best charts (his throne had temporarily been threatened only by Di Stefano, because we're shamefully attracted to retro style glamour).

Was Pavarotti the voice of the century? The debate has just begun. But for us, who lived through those mourning days and wept with Mirella Freni, his is the ultimate earth-shattering experience.

Here's to you, Luciano, and to your echo.

Catarí', Catarí'...
pecché mm''e ddice sti pparole amare?!
Pecché mme parle e 'o core mme turmiente Catarí'?!
Nun te scurdá ca t'aggio dato 'o core, Catarí'...
Nun te scurdá...
Catarí'...
Catarí', che vène a dicere
stu pparlá ca mme dá spáseme?
Tu nun ce pienze a stu dulore mio?!
Tu nun ce pienze, tu nun te ne cure...

Core, core 'ngrato...
T'hê pigliato 'a vita mia!
Tutto è passato...
e nun ce pienze cchiù.

(lyrics of 'Core 'ngrato' Cardillo-Cordiferro)

Dear all,

If anyone reads this, we are desperately looking for 2 people to put together a team of 4 to do the Oxfam trailwalk in July 2008 or to support a good cause by donating.
As I'm sure most of you know, the challenge is to trek 100 km in 30 hours, having raised a minimum of 1,650 quid/team in order to participate (it costs £150/ team to get in before 1st of Feb 2008). The money will go to Oxfam and the Gurkha Welfare Trust to help eradicate poverty in the world. This will be a new challenge for our humble legs and for our fighting spirit.

We can do this together!
Let us know

The LONDON trekkers

Back from a stay in the hospital which had my musings over life amplify to unbelievable rate (no, am not a hypochondriac), a poignant question imposes itself on most of the hours I now spend awake during the night. A question which has been tormenting many since day 1 of creation, so not so original again, but hey, it's mine to ask:

where do all things go when they go?

to further illustrate my meaning to you: according to the song, they come back someday.

i took a trip back in time and was shocked.

i bet 9 out of 10 people i used to know AND remember now, do not know who I am.
sad but life? hmmm
by the way, i did go down and under. am not a survivor

Anyone else who's thinking of organising LONDON's most fab gig ever?

Who'd you include (inspiration from Guardian's weird Best Albums Ever list aside)?
I'd die a happy woman to see Bruce Springsteen (king is back!) duetting with Leonard Cohen with Andrea Bocelli as backing vocals, accompanied by London's ONLY Philharmonic Orchestra.
I'd also have Roberto Alagna selling last minute tickets at the door as part of his retrainig for a job.

Whaddaya say? Who's on your list? Mail me
diane

Dear all,

welcome to an open debate about the state of the world, mental sanity and anything else which can stir up the last crumb of passion hidden in the depths of a mind confused by the speed and irreverisibility of our societies' non-evolution.

feel free to linger!

(this is a test)