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Posts Tagged ‘turbulences’

Прочитав длинный пост здесь, имею сказать следующее.

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QotD

…It was a week of that motley September weather, uncertain as April but much more troubling to the human spirit, when days swing between noons of high summer and frosty midnights, and the shades of municipal trees, heavy and still on sunlit pavements, start to shift and squirm beneath a  fragmented moon.

Reginald Hill, Child’s Play

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А дней десять-двенадцать назад он почувствовал себя плохо — поднялась температура, донимал кашель и его увезли в больницу. Там ему сделали анализ на коронавирус — анализ был отрицательным, но, поскольку, симптомы вполне себе сответствовали коронавирусу, его перевели в отделение для коронавирусных больных.

И уже там дней через шесть ему сделали повторный анализ на корону, который оказался положительным.

И никто за это не ответит. Наоборот, в больнице же держали, тратились на него – их ещё, небось, похвалят. Герои же-медработники.

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Отличное эссе. Хотя и грустно, приходится согласиться. Мало-комплиментарно это упрямое – можно даже сказать, инфантильное – упование на чудо, успех «по моему хотению» – и с сожалением и некоторым стыдом узнаёшь это в собственных упованиях, более-менее пережитых.

Не думаю, однако, что это исключительно русское качество. Очень распространён (раздражающий взрослую меня)  американский вариант, буквально понимаемая многими, особенно молодыми людьми – цитата из Линкольна

“You can have anything you want if you want it badly enough. You can be anything you want to be, do anything you set out to accomplish if you hold to that desire with singleness of purpose.”

 

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God’s grief

The years of Mary’s reign were consistently wet. (more…)

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Что еще сказал врач? Что здоровые люди мечтают и планируют, а больные все время ждут беды. (Наташа-в-зайкином-костюме)

Вот чего я не понимаю, так этой веры в какого-то врача, хренча, короче – авторитета. Ну то есть, понимаю, что себе не верится, так выстраивают подмостки для идола извне, а потом ему внимают. Так удобней – ответственности нет, и в неудаче себя винить не придётся. Но ведь и обратное – если выберешься, то мысля так с стобой и угнездится – что не сама, а врач, плюс таблетки. Никакого удовлетворения, тем более глубокого.

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Must I?

WARNING

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me,
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals,
and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired,
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells,
And run my stick along the public railings,
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens,
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat,
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go,
Or only bread and pickle for a week,
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats
and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
And pay our rent and not swear in the street,
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised,
When suddenly I am old
and start to wear purple!
Jenny Joseph,

May 7.1932 – January 8.2018

 

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What a beautiful book. Sо full of color.

I am glad I didn’t’ come across it before. Wouldn’t understood it then. I am now at perfect age, the right time to share the rage, disappointment with oneself’s wasted promise, the grief of getting old, of necessity to accept illness, deterioration. Death. The fierceness of resistance, of courage, of not giving in to the white room inside.

Read it – but when you’re ready.

 

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Интересная тема и отличная ветка в треде: горлопан из публики потребитель продукта и богатей из фарма-фирмы производитель его же.

А что вы себе думаете? (more…)

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Achchhh-uuuu

On the other hand – you gotta forgive me, my brain doing its best, under the circs – which is: I am sick. Banal cold, first in season, and at the worst possible time (naturally).

Last week I returned home after trip to Vancouver. 6hrs on the plane (Manila-Vanc.-NY)->1/2hr Customs->1/2hr baggage->1/2hr Airtrain->1/2hr wait-1/2hr LIRR train->1/2hr subway. You know, conveniences of modern travel. Got home close to midnight, dropped bags and fell into bed. Woke up feeling funny; by Sunday morning had obstructed throat, blown sinuses and teary eyes.

And it lasted whole week. Right when I got back to 59 emails just from one client, +some from another, no crisis thanksgod, just normal end-of-year madness. And here I am: heavy lead behind my eyebrows, not a single constructive thought, just working down a box of Kleenex.

Astonished that with all this stupidity on display I actually got a year bonus in my paycheck! Although have no energy to spend it: today have been eating and sleeping non-stop. No gym: feel beaten up as if I already went, as it is. So – sorry for lack of interest here lately. I’m now going for second box of tissues, and a load of Swedish crime books…

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В этот день Ахуан-Скап мог по праву гордиться тем, что на него обращены глаза всего мира. Отношения между солнцем и луной достигли противоречия, называемого обыкновенно “затмением”. Задолго перед тем компетентные люди установили и объявили повсюду, что на этот раз затмение можно отлично наблюдать именно из Ахуан-Скапа, в силу чего затерянный полудикий город, преподнесший астрономам такое редкое лакомство, должен был отпраздновать свою пчелиную свадьбу, погрузясь затем снова в так громко потревоженное забвение. […]

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Floating party

Climbing up (or back, as our timeline demands) the stair, we plop right in the middle of breathtaking panorama

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Sway me more

[ as promised]

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Sway with me

Let’s start from the end.

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Acqua Alta

Какую чудную книжку я сейчас прочла!

Фото owls1 http://the-owls1.livejournal.com/158685.html. И не Венеция вовсе, а Рим

Детектива (я ничего другого сейчас не читаю) американской писательницы Michaela Thompson, герои – персонажи Commedia Del Arte, место действия – венецианский Карнавал. Гениальный замысел: герои изменяются в процессе запутанных приключений, надевают на себя личины и каждая высвечивает новую грань их характеров. Это не подсказка сюжета – сюжет совсем о другом – а одна из многих подводных струй (в наводнение?), многих аллюзий и цитат, и какое наслаждение их узнавать.

 

 

 

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Phew

I am back.

Home! My own bed! My own chestnut blossoms in the window!

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hc591sc3b6k-vc3a9tc3b3ja-drc3b3n-fekvc591Shit. What the hell am I getting myself into?

Going on vacation to Budapest exactly when Soros-funded hords of Hungarian “Occupy” parasites are defacing the imperial avenues. Note the absence of anything concrete among the ritualistic chanting of “freedom” and “change” – except demand for “minimum wage for public workers” (government employees, I guess) and idea of fracturing the Parliament by eliminating party alliances: by filling it with parties per amount of votes they received.  So, 100 parties of 1-3-6 votes? Great! The louder the bazaar, the better for these useful idiots.

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Indifference or avoidance?

Dear Meaghan,

As we say in Russian, Вы жалуетесь или хвастаетесь? 1-2-3…8! Eight languages! Even if some became sketchy over the years of no-use, you can still look up those faulty keys when the need come to play the keyboard. You (and PeeFee) are still amazing.

You could say, like my late Jewish Grandma, “То, что ты начинаешь учить, я уже давно забыла!”

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Власть тьмы

Хиханьки хаханьками, а вот это уже серьёзно.

Мочалка отметилась мнением по очередной модной новости: безобразному скандалу с избиением пассажира Юнайтед.

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From the beginning of the year

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Saturday was rather annoying. I’ve procrastinated long enough, then was sick, then had to buy a rug (another, not less irritating, story – maybe later) – and suddenly, the February is almost over! So I had to man up, brace up and face the Taxes.

¡Mira, panowie! Turbotax  is beyond belief. Because of one measly 1099-MISC I was forced to file as “self-employed”, and in addition to normal income taxes pay another half-a-thou as “self-employment tax”! Is it something new IRS invented this year?  Since when supplemental freelance gigs, accompanying a solid W2 is considered full-blown “business”? And did you know that Medicare and SS “wages and tips”as basis for namesakes taxes are calculated before your voluntary deductions, unlike your Gross? And the not-insignificant Medicare/SS taxes are not counted into your Federal tax paid – so even though your every paycheck is diminished by 1/4 of it’s worth by taxes, your annual federal obligation demonstrates underpayment? That’s what I call Creative Accounting!

So, not surprisingly, I went to bed in a foul mood, had nightmares all night (sinuses being choked up is no help either) and woke up at 5am. What to do, what to do? Opened my Kindle with latest download of Murder: British Library Classic:  a story by Gerald Findler, titled House of Screams. And I read:

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QotD

и такая печаль разрывает душу, не могу описать.

[кто-то @ friendstimes]

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… stopped following tradition of hurriedly finishing up before 12/31 deadline all that was started before. no, I didn’t mop the floors and didn’t bake, and didn’t wrapped up several projects. but I did end several relationships with people who are very important to my wellbeing. it hurts, but had to be done.

anyway – here’re some pics that appeared to be legible on my phone after yesterday’s party.

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15 after

Wasn’t going to write, least of all – to write a commemoration-of-tragedy post.

Then an hour ago a note from LiveJournal fell into my inbox: “someone with an alias igparis has added you as a friend”. Who is that, I wondered.

911

Turns out, it’s a truther. Igor Vladislavovich Voskressenski, 62yo, located in Paris, France, is obsessed with conspiracy theories about 9/11 attacks. God knows what made him think I’ll be appreciative of his oeuvre. Or why did he decide to add my name to his “friends band” – he “friended “4 times more people than reciprocated – precisely on the eve of the 15 years’ anniversary of our grief. I’ve no inclination to read his elaborate fantasies, nor am I interested in mental disorders of Russians with “orthodox-priestly” last names, living in France.

All I will say: take your dirty paws off our pain, you worm.

Hole in the sky…You know how I feel

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Where to…?

The project I’m wrapping up now (planning and supervising renovation, fitout and internal move of ~300 people in a major Broadcast company within their NY headquarters) will be over at the beginning of October.

I’ve been working at my top speed and endurance for about 6 months. I love what I do – but 50hrs workweeks of insane intensity; sleepless nights -you know the kind, when one’s mind is too strained to relax,  kaleidoscope of corporate rat race – took a toll.

I need a vacation.

Something to give me a jolt.To take me out of my comfort zone (spa…beach…lazy reading of mystery novels under canopy of leaves…knitting another sweater I don’t need)

So, what do you think – Peru (machu picchu, colonial architecture of Cusco and Lima, Spring at high altitude) or Vancouver (a ferry from Seattle; Fall in a rainforest, Pacific seaside I’ve never seen)? Maybe even in your company? I have about two weeks and I want to return in time for Election.

Advice and ideas are welcome!

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