zaboraviti: (Default)
i am sick, just sick
a shitload of musicals, a quick obsession with A Man of No Importance, The Bridges of Madison County, Carousel and Kelli O'Hara later, i'm back on Chess. 9Gb of musicals on my hard drive, but i'm back on Chess.
i was just listening to one of The Phantoms in my collections and all of a sudden was like, fuck that, i want to talk chess. i need Chess. why am i torturing myself when all i need is Chess? and oh it feels so good. such a relief. Chess in my veins again. feels like home. nothing to be ashamed of.

и так жадно слушаю, как сорвавшийся наркоман. серьезно, вот он, Энтони Уорлоу, один из любимейших Призраков - а я слушаю "Зеркало", не дослушиваю "Музыку ночи" и такая, в жопу всё, обожаю Уорлоу, но ничего не хочу, хочу Chess. Господи, хорошо-то как.

(ой, всякий раз больно слушать, как напрягается в этом концерте Адам, там явно было еще над чем работать)


Apr. 18th, 2017 03:19 am
zaboraviti: (Default)
из других событий: опять купила книжку. опять ту, которую не собиралась покупать. даже нет - ту, которую собиралась не покупать.
но она вдруг оказалась подержанной и всего за восемь баксов. сочетание, сметающее в ведро все мои экономические принципы: "подержанная книжка"+"всего".
стой теперь на полке красивым укором, очередным памятником одержимости и слабоволию.  )
zaboraviti: (Default)
вот у людей, когда говорят "леголенд", какая ассоциации возникает? лего. а у меня какая? СРС. за королеву и страну. Пол Крокер. Вавилон-на-Темзе.
но сейчас действительно о лего.
бзик, нашедший меня сегодня вечером, удачно совпал с началом нового сезона ДК, и я, пользуясь отсутствием мелких вредителей, достала с полки несколько месяцев ждавшую своего часа коробку и до часу упрямо сутулилась на неудобной поверхности. Шатя добродушно бурчал под бок, что надо за стол и по кучкам разобрать, чтобы удобнее, но я только мило шипела и отмахивалась. что ж это за веселье, если за столом да по кучкам... так любой дурак сможет. без инструкции, правда, не решилась. без инструкции веселье быстро перешло бы в трагедию.

но сначала я себя долго уговаривала разорвать пакетики.

а когда наконец уговорила, стало немножко страшно, хотя это я еще не всё разорвала и ссыпала. )


Apr. 17th, 2017 01:04 am
zaboraviti: (Default)
товарищи Кинги, я вас ненавижу

- i'll love you forever
- i'm okay with that
zaboraviti: (Default)
поспешно пересматриваю два сезона перед завтрашней серией, вроде как освежить в памяти, но кажется, главным образом для того, чтобы поглазеть на Капальди. что само по себе опасно, можно подолгу залипать на одной сцене, а времени мало.

zaboraviti: (slow)

Robert imagined his mother talking to him when he had been sealed up in her womb. Of course he wouldn’t have known what her blunted syllables were meant to mean, but he was sure he would have felt a current flowing between them, the contraction of a fear, the stretch of an intention. Thomas was still close to those transfusions of feeling; Robert was getting explanations instead. Thomas still knew how to understand the silent language which Robert had almost lost as the wild margins of his mind fell under the sway of the verbal empire. He was standing on a ridge, about to surge downhill, getting faster, getting taller, getting more words, getting bigger and bigger explanations, cheering all the way. Now Thomas had made him glance backwards and lower his sword for a moment while he noticed everything that he had lost as well. He had become so caught up in building sentences that he had almost forgotten the barbaric days when thinking was like a splash of colour landing on a page. Looking back, he could still see it: living in what would now feel like pauses: when you first open the curtains and see the whole landscape covered in snow and you catch your breath and pause before breathing out again. He couldn’t get the whole thing back, but maybe he wouldn’t rush down the slope quite yet, maybe he would sit down and look at the view.

Mother's Milk

zaboraviti: (slow)

‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

‘You can’t have been, or you would have found me,’ he said.

‘Don’t get smart with me, young man,’ said Jo. ‘Have you been fighting with Josh?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘How could anyone fight with Josh? He’s just a blob.’

‘He’s not a blob, he’s your best friend,’ said Jo.

‘No he isn’t,’he said.

‘You have been fighting,’ said Jo.

‘We haven’t,’ he insisted.

‘Well, anyway, you can’t just go off like that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we all worry about you.’

‘I worry about my parents when they go away, but that doesn’t stop them,’ he remarked. ‘Nor should it.’

He was definitely winning this argument. In an emergency, his father could send Robert to court on his behalf. He imagined himself in a wig, bringing the jury round to his way of seeing things, but then Jo squatted down in front of him and looked searchingly into his eyes.

‘Do your parents go away a lot?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ he said, but before he could tell her that they had never both been out of the house for more than about three hours, he found himself swept into her arms and crushed against the words ‘Up For It’, without fully understanding what they meant. He had to tuck his shirt in again after she had pulled it out of his trousers with her consoling back rub.

‘What does “Up For It”mean?’ he asked when he got his breath back.

‘Never you mind,’ she said, round-eyed. ‘Come on! Lunch time!’

She marched him into the house. He couldn’t exactly refuse to hold her hand now that they were practically lovers.

Mother's Milk

zaboraviti: (slow)

He wondered who was wasting the most time by spending a day with the Packers, not counting the Packers themselves who were always wasting more time than anybody, and usually had a film to prove it. Thomas was only sixty days old, so it was the biggest waste of time for him, because one day was one-sixtieth of his life, whereas his father, who was forty-two, was wasting the smallest proportion of his life. Robert tried to work out what proportion of their lives a day was for each of them. The calculations were hard to hold in his mind, so he imagined different sizes of wheels in a clock. Then he wondered how to include the opposite facts: that Thomas had his whole life ahead of him, whereas his parents had quite a lot of theirs behind them, so that one day was less wasteful for Thomas because he had more days left. That created a new set of wheels –red instead of silver –his father’s spinning round and Thomas’s turning with a stately infrequent click. He still had to include the different qualities of suffering and the different benefits for each of them, but that made his machine fantastically complicated and so, in one salutary sweep, he decided that they were all suffering equally, and that none of them had got anything out of it at all, making the value of the day a nice fat zero. Hugely relieved, he got back to visualizing the rods connecting the two sets of wheels. It all looked quite like the big steam engine in the Science Museum, except that paper came out at one end with a figure for the units of waste. It turned out, when he read the figures, that he was wasting more time than anyone else. He was horrified by this result, but at the same time quite pleased.

Mother's Milk

zaboraviti: (slow)

‘You know how we are with Megan. Megan’s our two-year-old,’ she explained to the guests. ‘We’ve left her with Roger’s mother. She’s just discovered rage – you know the way they discover emotions and then work them for all they’re worth, until they get on to the next one.’

‘How interesting,’ said Robert’s father, ‘so you don’t think emotions have anything to do with how a child is feeling – they’re just layers in an archaeological dig. When do they discover joy?’

‘When you take them to Legoland,’ said Christine.

Mother's Milk

zaboraviti: (Default)
отвлекаясь от Джона Уэттона (третий концерт подряд смотрю, сейчас Asia в Базеле, 2010, чуть не завизжала на Only Time Will Tell), в Мелроузе я на Mother's Milk перешла - перешла и всё недоумевала: вот это наш Патрик? конечно, возможно, это как раз потому, что мы смотрим на происходящее глазами его сына. просто если бы я не знала, что "папа" - Патрик, я бы подумала, что это какая-то не связанная с серией книжка. впрочем, это всего пара глав, уверена, он еще проявит себя во всей красе.
пока по-прежнему прекрасно. Роберт чудо ребенок. смещение акцента с отцовства на материнство.
цитировать опять хочется предложение за предложением, абзац за абзацем. не буду.


Apr. 8th, 2017 11:34 pm
zaboraviti: (Default)

только что узнала, что нет больше Джона Уэттона, уже третий месяц как...
zaboraviti: (Default)

я весь умер :)

но кажется, я могу слушать, как Нил Гейман читает что угодно - как выражаются англоязычные товарищи, даже телефонный справочник
zaboraviti: (маленькие зеленые человечки)

this day. just remember it.

zaboraviti: (Default)

god i love her

Стивен отчаянно флиртует :)
zaboraviti: (slow)

старые короли, юные королевы, пожелтевшая бумага, любовь.
а потом я просыпаюсь.
или засыпаю.
и никто не уходит.
больше никто не уходит.

zaboraviti: (slow)
Alexander Politsky, whose extreme Englishness derived from his being Russian, was perhaps the last man in England to use the term ‘old bean’ sincerely. He was also widely acknowledged to have the best collection of shoes in the country. A pair of pre-First World War Lobb riding boots given to him by ‘a marvellous old boulevardier and screaming queen who was rather a friend of my father’s’ were only brought out on special occasions when the subject of boots or shoes arose spontaneously in the conversation.

He was driving Ali Montague down to the Bossington-Lanes’, where they were both staying. Ali, who had known Bill Bossington-Lane for forty years, had described him and his wife as ‘the sort of people one never sees in London. They just don’t travel well.’

Someone once asked Bill if he still had his beautiful manor house. ‘Beautiful manor house?’ he said. ‘We’ve still got the old dump, if that’s what you mean.’ ‘By the way,’ Ali continued, ‘did you see that thing in Dempster about tonight? After all the usual rubbish about the best shoot in England, and ten thousand acres and Princess Margaret, there was Bridget saying, “I’m just having a few people round to celebrate my husband’s birthday.” She just can’t get it right, can she?’

‘Ugh,’ groaned Alexander, ‘I can’t stand that woman. I mean, I almost don’t mind being patronized by Princess Margaret, and no doubt will be tonight—’

‘You should be so lucky,’ interjected Ali. ‘Do you know, I think I prefer parties given by people I don’t like.’

‘But,’ Alexander continued, unperturbed, ‘I won’t be patronized by Bridget Gravesend, née Watson-Spot or whatever it was.’

‘Watson-Spot,’ laughed Ali. ‘Oddly enough I knew the fatherslightly in another lifetime. He was called Roddy Watson-Scott, frightfully stupid and jolly and rather used-car salesman, but nice. As you know I’m not a snob, but you didn’t have to be a snob to drop that man.’

‘Well, there you are,’ said Politsky. ‘I don’t want to be patronized by the daughter of a used-car salesman. After all, my family used to be able to walk from Moscow to Kiev on their own land.’

‘It’s no use telling me about these foreign places,’ said Ali. ‘I’m afraid I just don’t know where Kiev is.’

‘All you need to know is that it’s a very long way from Moscow,’ said Alexander curtly.

Some Hope
zaboraviti: (slow)

‘Obviously, I’d rather that my birthday was in June instead of gloomy old February,’ Sonny was fond of saying, ‘but one can’t choose when one’s born.’

The shock of not having planned his own birth had given Sonny a fanatical desire to plan everything else. Bridget had tried to keep him out of the tent on the grounds that it should be a ‘surprise’, but since this word was for him roughly equivalent to ‘terrorist outrage’, she had failed. She had, on the other hand, managed to keep secret the astonishing cost of the velvet, communicated to her by a honking Sloane with a laugh like a death rattle, who had said that it came to ‘forty thousand, plus the dreaded’. Bridget had thought ‘the dreaded’ was a technical decorating term until Tony explained that it was VAT.

Some Hope

zaboraviti: (slow)

"Карусель" с Келли О'Хара и Нейтаном Ганном. мне редко нравятся такие баритоны (а еще я переслушала пару раз "Карусель" с Ознес и Паскуале, прикипела), но не могу не признать, что Ганн в роли Билли выглядит очень органично, олдскульно что ли, как минимум чисто внешне попадая в стилистику мюзикла. Паскуале выглядит как-то слишком уж интеллигентно для Билли :) его с Лорой на сцене я видеть не могла, конечно, та же замечательная сцена не в счет, но Келли с Нейтаном хорошо смотрятся вместе именно в декорациях.
весь ютюб уже прочесала, опять "Мосты" заводить штоле. хочу еще на Келли смотреть, кажется, я влюблен, не могу оторваться, она меня завораживает просто

two towers

Mar. 29th, 2017 05:47 pm
zaboraviti: (Default)
this is beautiful

from Minas Tirith by Marguerite Bennett (Secret Loves of Geek Girls)


zaboraviti: (Default)

June 2017

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