Posts Tagged ‘people’


Их уже нет на свете, и на новые книги рассчитывать не приходится.

Поэтому читайте, как я, всё что можете найти :

Reginald Hill, Dalziel & Pascoe book series 

Of author: here. Of his books: here.

Philip Kerr, Bernie Gunther book series

After you read at least one book and get interested in the author, as I did, go here, scroll down to Media and listen to the first video of the meet at Hatchard’s. Then go ahead, and read some more.

Both politically are on the Left; Hill farther than Kerr – forgive them this stupid illogical wishful thinking and just filter out those pages and paragraphs. They died way before they could see direct consequences of their false religion. Be warned,  though: there is an occasional revolting passage.

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Observing reactions to the ongoing election fraud in the short list of blogs I frequent, two are equally repulsive to me:

  1. “it’s the end of the world” commies won, it’s useless to resist, time to a)take care of number one; b)of my family and church; c)run to the woods/hills/Alaska; d)lie down and die
  2. “it’s not that bad” Biden is senile, Kamala is a mattress, we still have majority in Senate and a close run in House, time to a) think of next election and next (R) candidate, not as abrasive as T; b)take advantage and play the surge/short stock market; c)build the bridges with our commie overlords – hey, we are still one country

It’s like they all have covid on the brain.  We are living within a coup, the future of the Republic is in question – and their heads are deliberately and firmly wedged into their backsides.

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-…nervous. Is your sister a nicer version of your mom?




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Paging all concerned

I will be in Irvine, California on a short business trip – my first ever visit – on Monday, 05/13. If anybody who lives close by wants to meet, I’ll be very happy to and available – on Sunday evening or Tuesday morning. Send a word!

Собираюсь в Калифорнию, впервые в жизни. Буду в Ирвайне с вечера 12 по утро 14 мая. Буду счастлива встретиться со всеми, кто. Пишите!

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-Может, вы два сапога пара?


O мочалке:


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A recent side note in one of the blogs I read got me thinking of people with extra-super-charisma.

I’m sure we all met pleasant people, friendly, attentive and gracious. But I am talking about something else entirely.


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What unusual names you’ve met? I have a co-worker whose son’s name is Uriah. A very nice boy of 20, calm & collected, friendly without fawning, straight-talking, respectful of elders, polite, skillful and persevering in work. A honorable person.

Can’t remember many more whose given name would correspond so strongly with his character.

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[Scene: I, M, E are sitting around dinner table, eating rhubarb+strawberries pie baked by E. The filling is not particularly sweet, as E halved the amount of sugar due to M’s dietary requirements]

I: “Oh! Ah! Urgh!”[makes deprecatory noises and grimaces, while continuing consume a sizable portion of pie]

E: “If it’s too sour for you, just don’t eat it”

M: ” How can you say that! How can you deny a piece of pie to a person in their own home! How your tongue even turns! After everything that have been done for you! Ungrateful! Despicable! I don’t want to know you anymore”

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Of course, the bang-for-the-buck ratio is rather low: browsing for 4hrs (with various breaks) and finding just two noteworthy stories is inefficient. But the loot is worth it.


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Вроде бы давно живу, а человекам всё ещё удивляюсь.
У меня есть сотрудница Кристина; сидим напротив, так что имеем возможность узнать друг друга ближе. Кристина человек ушлый, собаку сьевший в офисных интригах. Отпускает ехидные замечания о политике компании – но только в узком кругу. В то же время демонстрирует личную преданность боссихе (разумеется, в лицо начальству) и держит рот на замке, когда другие это начальство обсуждают. Не прочь попровоцировать, а потом доложить по инстанции о результатах провокации.

И вот в день много-миллиардного Powerball-а, когда мы все мирно работали, в комнату заскакивает боссиха и раздаёт всем лотерейные билеты, заполнить. Раскошелилась и купила всем по 2 шанса. Ну, тут народ делится мнениями – о лотереях вообще, о шансах выиграть, о своём (не)везении, о том как надо заполнять карточку, и проч и проч. Кристина болтала со всеми вместе, но при этом гуглила историю выигрышей, какие цифры исторически выигрывали чаще – забыв назвать эти самые цифры.
А когда мы уже собрали и сдали наши карточки боссихе, оказалось – она единственная, кто записал на бумажку свои номера. Я говорю: “а если твои номера выиграют, как ты собираешься делиться с боссихой?” Кристина уклоняется от ответа: “об этом думать преждевременно”…

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За час между-делом-разглядывания своей и чужих ЖЖ-лент (между завтраком и глажкой белья пока жары нет) насобирала удивительных цитат:
-Подскажите, пожалуйста, где в Иерусалиме можно купить пчелиный воск.
-Ты очень миловидная, не правда!
-Ненавижу застежки в любого формата.[…]При моей асимметрии, очень тяжело выдерживать одинаковое расстояние между петлями.
-В Портсмуте мы оказались, пожив в Новосибирске, Лондоне и паре других британских городов.
-все возможно в этом мире, самом лучшем из миров (ц мой дед). жаль я не записала. у деда было столько поговорок.от его […] крепостных бывших. [её же: я видела фимжей кончавших мед в Алма-Ате, в Казани, в какой-то дыре в западной украине (Запорожье?)]
-Обама — трансформационный президент — Рейган 21 столетия. Мне вот кажется, что они бы подружились, но великие редко встречаются на Земле в реале.

ААА! Надо пойти почитать что-то здравое, нормальное, в своём уме. Вон, в рассылке статья дожидается о Usage of natural stone lightweight panels for the exterior facade construction…

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In usual small talk at cocktail parties I try to avoid one topic: my attitude towards the country of my birth.
Typical conversation goes something like this:
-Oh, you’re from Russia (or Ukraine, Kazakhstan &)! A beautiful country. I heard (read, saw a movie) of such&such wonder (city, mountain, artist, dam, sea, museum) – you are lucky to be born there! How long has it been since you left? That long? And when are you going to visit? Never? WHY???

And I am at a loss for words. How can one deliver in a sentence the sense of the tortured existence of 3 generations of one family – of one ethnic group – of one country’s entire population? How is it possible to summarize total absence of any hope for any structured, positive change that could ever be ascribed to the black cancerous mole that spreads on 1/6th of Earth surface? The history that affected everyone and will affect future generations forever, because for all the crimes there has been no punishment and no repentance?

All prepared responses are inadequate; I try to keep it simple for audience sake, but simplified versions inevitably lead to more questions (“I am an American, but also an Italian, and I love both countries  – how can you not?”), showing gaping incomprehension and disconnect between us and giving my interlocutors an impression that I am hiding something unpalatable.


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three days of unstructured, unscheduled freedom!
dragged myself to kitchen at 9, only out of duty – must eat something…woke up at 6, as usual, then lazied in bed: read a little, then dosed a little, then stretched, then day-(morning-?)dreamed for two hrs, staring at sunny blue&white behind the windows. while grinding coffee, looked out, across the 4th story air to U-shaped walls of my building: Laureen from #3 is reading the screen behind her window mesh. i knocked at the glass, she turned: oh hi – want some coffee? come join me – no, i’ve had three already – what a glorious morning, cool and sunny; monday will rain, better go for a walk today – have you seen my cat? he is sometimes jealous of laptop, can’t stand that I pay attention to some[one?thing?] else and he lies down on the sill while I read, miawooes and touches me with his paw…come, come kitty – oh he is big and so handsome, with his white [bib? forgot the word] and white “shoes” – you should see him a month ago; he was sick, poor thing and lost weight… thank you, now he’s much better and started to eat again. sometimes he lies on the window sill in my bedroom, yes, that window across the L-wall, right next to yours, and watches me in the kitchen, reading, and looks surprised when i start talking to him: wtf, he thinks and i can read it in his face, i can hear her from inside the apartment and from outside at the same time; she must be a witch – haha! – coffee is ready, are you sure… – yes, absolutely, not today, maybe tomorrow, have a great one, bye

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Пара тёплых

WordPress поздравил меня с небывалым наплывом посетителей; кто бы это мог, думаю я себе -ага, натурально, после визгов kot_shred (see update 2) ко мне пожаловали 2 своры, оттуда и из помойки tandem bike, то бишь adequately named, хоть и с граммат.ошибкой, протухшей яичницы (green eegs). Этой дряни вообще как бы мало недавней истории, прямо asking for more trouble…

Сделаю-ка я общее заявление, для ясности.

Сучки черноротые, не судИте по себе. У меня отличная от вашей система ценностей: я НЕ хочу много друзей. Мне неприятны коллективы, я не гонюсь за известностью и числом, мне не нужны сонмы обожателей, мне важно качество. Поэтому я очень придирчива к тем, кого держу в друзьях: если кто-то, в кого я инвестировала время, добрые чувства, не говоря уже о любви и деньгах, повёл себя плохо, я скорее расстанусь, чем буду double down (зря тратить на него ещё больше себя). Кто ж определяет, что плохо, а что хорошо? Да я, конечно – мне важны только мои критерии. В друзья я беру медленно, фильтрую долго – но это друзья реальные. А с лентой виртуальных персонажей процесс гораздо проще и быстрее. Я читаю (и пишу) блоги для удовольствия; никаких раздражающих элементов мне там не надо; поэтому я специально, целенаправленно, последовательно выпалываю из моей ленты всех вызвавших мою неприязнь. Как следствие, оборот ников у меня в ленте большой, дураков и хамов я там не терплю. Да и не только в ленте: будучи индивидуалисткой, не уважаю авторитеты и звания, оцениваю всех по face value, пиетета ни к кому не испытываю. Вообще, любовь к человечеству сильно переоценена; люди довольно неприятные создания. Не вижу причины скрывать моё о них мнение. [Доп. информ: см. раздел About]

Так что те, кто думает меня обидеть криками “никто не хочет играть с тобой в одной песочнице!” “ты неудачница без друзей!” на самом деле делают мне комплимент: замечательно, моя политика даёт плоды. Если бы я не уважала так частную собственность, стибрила бы у А.Х. девиз блога:
“Culling my readers to manageable elite since XXXX”.


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OHNY-photo competition

TWA Terminal

TWA Terminal, by Steven Malatesta

Do you remember where I was stationed @this year’s OHNY? And what I managed to see besides washing glasses @Morton’s loft? Several new sites I’d love to see had to be left out – but I signed up for Focus competition Flickr group, and now I have a chance to see them through the eyes of others. It is unbelievable how many wonderfully thrifty, artistic, technically advanced photographers contributed to the group.
I sent few of my pictures – but, despite being once a chance winner of an earlier Focus, I know my own limits and have no hopes for this year – especially after browsing the work of others.

Which ones do you like?

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Past each other

Выражение “обменяться мнениями” не просто неточно, а противоположно действительности.
Невозможно в разговоре просто заменить своим мнением мнение собеседника и, соответственно, усвоить противоположное. Mаксимум, можно прикинуть его мнение на весы своего опыта и своих резонов, к какому-то его выводу прийти со своей стороны, и даже согласиться с суммарным результатом. Но это всё равно не будет обменом “вчистую”. Хвосты собственной личности будут тянуться за каждым таким чужаком и в конце концов переработают его во что-то неузнаваемое первоначальным владельцем.
На месте “обмена мнений” происходит что-то вроде обмена дипломатическими нотами. Два более-или-менее джентльмена в паричках и атласных камзолах, гордо выставив шёлковую ногу в красно-каблучном туфле, провозглашают намерения и доводят до сведения, ничего больше.

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Мир заполнен ими, стоящими с постной мордой и синицей в руках
А хуже всего, что и сама такая бываю. Редко, правда, и сразу же устыжаюсь.

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Aw what a day.

A holiday, yep. Which only exacerbated the problem. Which (the problem) is Power. Electrical one.

The thermometer shows official 95 outside, and the weather advisory tells me it’s over a hundred, counting humidity and wind condition.

I was cooking lunch to go on a picnic to local Botanical Garden when I noticed the bulb in the fridge is off. I unscrewed it to see if it was burned – nope. Then with a falling heart I went to check on my conditioner… I was right: it was off, too. The juice was gone.


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Faces out of the crowd

On Monday, when all normal people remembered dead presidents sitting home with feet up and glass in hand, we bravely fought the deadline – as we did whole preceding month, warring with shadows of our own making every day from 9 to 9. Today we were given a tentative day off in compensation. So I talked a friend into joining  me and went to Met. When, soaked under a horrible rain, I finally got in and walked through the endless treasure troves I realized that I haven’t been there for more than 4 years…they changed whole American Wing! There is a glass elevator there now – oh, and besides, right in front of it is an enormous new atrium with sculptures and glass galleries curving around it on 6 or 7 levels…Ouch.

Our particular destination was international exhibition Portraits of Renaissance, from Donatello to Bellini (I learned about it from a Swiss visitor to NY -what a shame, I know). It’ s incredible; some of the exhibits are spectacular, few will probably stay with me forever (the red-haired Venetian by Antonello di Messina, the Medicis with their long noses, the Florentines (not Donatello, but Alberti) ; I made lots of mental notes  which I am not going to bore you with – but there is something I will tell. Before plunging into the mass of priceless Italians we went to see modest in comparison Duncan Phyfe who turned out was a shrewd guy, cashing in on American love of “old-world-nobility”: changed his surname from plain Scottish Fife. And what a pleasure, what an enjoyment, I’ll tell you, to see things one appreciates with a fellow architect. We were pointing fingers to veneer inlays, buzzing words like “intarcia”, “tambour”, “concealed hinges”, noticing clever blocking and structural challenges, or the subtle size of even the formal chairs. And suddenly we heard behind us even more specialized language and more excited tone…we turned and in tandem exclaimed, in confusion of sudden recognition “Hi!” It was one of Keno brothers (I think Leslie, but I wouldn’t bet on it), with a client I think, discussing legs on one of the consoles… He probably is used to it, but we were ashamed by our unbecoming behavior nevertheless. Celebrities love NYexactly because here they are left in peace – nobody points fingers or stares! But I did…he is more handsome and speaks better in person than on TV. And he is even blonder. And his suit really IS superbly tailored.

OK, enough of my sparkling social and cultural life. What’s up wit you?

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Between Stephenesque, recovering from a heart surgery, Scott   – from a latest chemo and dear A.A. Bashmachkin (or A.IRL) – from a battle with rheumatoid arthritis I started to feel the shakes affecting my small circle of blogosphere.  As if a formerly solid and reliable universe suddenly revealed its vulnerability….something akin a child’s realization of natural limits set for her family’ and her own life.

All put up a brave fight. That’s how I want to meet what awaits me – with determination and humor.  [Aside: the topic, “how to keep calm and carry on in a personal-pain situation” interest me for a long time – as witnessed, for instance, here] All deserve a medal (long overdue -why aren’t there awards  for Courage Under Debilitating Illness?]  and praise. And I waited, waited through many days of silence, knowing they are filled with enormous struggle and sending  supportive thoughts your way.

But how much happier I am to praise your new posts, knowing even your body might not feel better, your spirit does – the return  of the sparkling humor and wit while in trenches against the enemy is infinitely more praiseworthy.

Please, keep it up.  I am not your family and we never set our eyes on each other, but I am a friend.  I need you here.

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People never cease to amaze me.

A girl of 27 , Thai, with a train-like name that means, roughly, “a cheerful ray of sunshine”. During vendor presentation she [very forward…that’s simply not done!] asked for a quote for herself (electronic TV-enabled  bathroom mirror with LED underlights…”oh, for you, with designer’s discount, it’s about $1,200″ – excellent, I didn’t think it’s so cheap!”). Revealed later that her boyfriend has bought a condo in the city and she is now in charge of renovation. The address is 99 John (that’s right, that 99 John)…and in fact, it’s not just one apartment but (wait for it…) FOUR. At the corner of the building he bought 2 on each side and now combining them into a “mansion in the sky”. My imagination stops at the possible $$$ figure.

Yesterday sometime at 7 she rushed to me with a roll of drawings, asking to finish her floor plans for her – she ca not stay late  tonight, she has a class. Politely, I inquired what class is she taking (expecting to hear “Sketchup”, or “Cinema 4”, or “LEED-exam preparation”). She was embarrassed: English, -she said. -My BF wants me to lose my accent, he thinks my English is inadequate. But I have been here for 4 years and people understand me! But he is very demanding…He is an American. We got married in Thailand, but not in a big wedding – because he wants it to be perfect. So in a meanwhile he collects ideas for a spectacular ceremony…he is so feminine!”

I didn’t know what to say.


Writing this up made me hungry for Thai food. I went to a new local joint to try their Pad Thai.

Imagine a room hastily done in cheap imitation of hi-end restaurants, to justify $10 for a plate of rice noodles in peanut sauce – black ceiling, gilded Bodhisattva with fake orchids at the wall altar,  acrylic  bar lit by interior pink and green LED strings, poly-U-ed brick walls with collection of mirrors on it – and a mandatory poster illustrating Heimlich maneuver. The  Thai waitress, sporting kilo of mascara and black tights with 3 zippers on each knee, brings me an Iphone to enter my tip and to sign the bill. Her very Anglo-Saxon husband sits at the bar and changes tapes: one German techno after another. Two Scandinavs loudly converse in Norwegian(?) next to my table: both are about 25, bolding, squeaky-clean and dressed in plaid shirts. Across from me a Brooklyn-Italian woman with juicy accent and sadly hopeful decollete  discusses her Dominican timeshare with her broker.

The food was god-awful.


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…he laughed at and ridiculed all notions of Publick virtue, and the love of one’s Country, calling them the Chimerical school boy flights of Classical learning.

…he was an easy and profuse dupe of women, and in some instances indecently so.

Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, of Robert Walpole, the first British Prime Minister, who ruled England for 20 years of prosperity.

[no, this quote is not directly related to story of “open marriage proposal” of Newt Gingrich. Just an FYI and a propos  to an age-old issue of principles declared vs.acted upon ]

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…At age 19 she was a fashion student at the Community College of Philadelphia. But, on a fateful day, while riding her bicycle, the driver of a Jeep made an illegal turn, hurdling into Gardot and leaving her in the street for dead. Hospitalized for months with multiple head injuries and pelvic fractures, her love for music was the best therapy she could receive.


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Corrupted manners (a meme)

Following an idea expressed by nina_petrovna, I want to ask you:

which of the house rules from your childhood you still maintain and which you don’t follow?

Examples in the subsequent thread are fascinating: from relatively common “you have to make your bed every morning before going to breakfast” and “you are not allowed to eat at your desk/in your room” (which now, becoming parents themselves, some violate and some enforce with amendments) to more unconventional ones:

– “in my grandma’s house children were eating in their own room, not at the same table as adults. if by some reason they had to be present at adults’ table they were prohibited from talking.  that rule was already abandoned by my parents”

-” in our house it was considered a mauvais tone to eat in the kitchen, at all times, even when no guests were involved.  at the same time, the rooms’ designation was flexible: my mom slept in the “dining”, “library” became my nursery, etc”

So, I’ll start.

  1. In my grandma’s house, nobody sat to dinner table until grandpa came from work, washed, changed and was ready to eat. If for some reason he was late from work, too bad: we all (a family of sometimes 7) had to wait. In my home mom would take heart and give us a small snack in the interim.In mine – the rule was non-existent
  2. At my grandma’s everybody were assigned their chores but responsibilities were sweetened with rights and authority of the responsible party. For instance, the kids were expected to go to the store for everyday groceries (milk, bread, Seltzer siphon bottles) and to help with sweeping/dusting, but if school homework was too extensive that day, it took priority; even my grandpa (the unquestionable patriarch) was not allowed to command a child to put aside a textbook and run out for a bottle of kefir. Grandma’s responsibility was cooking and stocking the pantry – but nobody was allowed to “steal” a piece of pie or a chicken cutlet from the kitchen without her permission. I remember being shocked when discovered that rule was not enforced in my husband’s home.

Your turn!

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Ирландский мальчик Логан продолжает выступления.

Что-то и вправду затих на время, я уж думала – не сьехал ли. Не видела с лета, когда однажды утречком я бодро спустилась в лобби, направляясь в спортклуб: мальчик Логан, в типичных своих ниспадающих с куриной гузки штанах с цепями выяснял отношения с сожительницей, рельефной латиной раза в три его обьёмнее. Факи летают за растафаками. Я следую мимо с покерным лицом; Логан мгновенно меняет громкость и вежливо желает мне доброго утра…

Сижу сейчас, читаю мирно книжку; раздаётся звонок в подьездный интерком. Всего один, застенчивый такой, на почтовиков или ещё каких служивых людей непохожий. “Хелло,-говорю,- ихтотам?”

“Да это я, ваш сосед сверху Логан! Не будете ли так любезны открыть мне дверь? Я случайно оставил дома ключ от входа, и некому позвонить, кроме вас! Я буду вам чрезвычайно признателен!” Нажала на кнопку “Дверь” и слышу – не через интерком, а снизу со входа, через перекрытия – Спасиииибо Огроооомное!!!

Даже и не знаю, что же он в этот раз не полез по пожарной лестнице…

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