caru's blog

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Location: Vienna, Austria, Austria

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Last night I read a book.

I can't remember the title, but it was about the development of society and literature in Haiti, rather stressing the literary aspect. It contained lots of text samples, mostly poems, in English translation, but also large bits of an epic poem in Haitian Creole, strong on Voodoo mythology, by an author whose name was "Al4nvar Mouanga" or something like that. (Yes, there was a 4 in the middle of his name.)
Needless to say, neither does the book really exist, nor does any of the authors that are mentioned in it. I dreamt it all - though it didn't feel like a dream while it lasted! My subconscious made up a whole literature, and a language too - because the Creole of the dream book was not at all like real Haitian Creole. Minds do weird stuff while we sleep, don't they.


Friday, September 04, 2009

as promised long ago: the caterpillar in colour!

(click to enlarge)

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Fried Tongue

In realgar, in arsenic green and white,
And boiling lead, for fitter fricassee,
Saltpetre, orpiment, quicklime unite
With soot and pitch, and tempered well with ley,
Made of a Jewess' urine let it be;
In water that has lazars' limbs made clean,
Wherein old boots and hosen steeped have been;
In aspics blood, in deadly drugs and tried,
In badgers', wolves' and foxes' gall and spleen,
Let all these sharp and poisonous tongues be fried.

In brain of cat, that water doth affright,
Black and so old that not a tooth hath he;
In foam and slaver from a mad dog's bite,
So old and rotten he can hardly see;
In froth of broken-winded mule, that ye
May cut up small with knives; in water green
With festering slime, wherein there may be seen
Serpents and rats that there have lived and died.
Lizards, toads, frogs and such like beasts obscene,
Let all these sharp and poisonous tongues be fried.

In sublimates, unsafe to touch and sight,
That in a live snake's navel mingled be;
In yellow pus, exuding day and night
From fistula or ulcer on the knee;
And in those vessels, foul to smell and see,
Where nurses children's dirty clouts make clean;
In blood that barbers dry in the sun's sheen;
In tubs where whores themselves have purified
(No apple-squire but knows the thing I mean),
Let all these sharp and poisonous tongues be fried.


Prince, all these dainties look you strain and screen
(If neither sieve nor bag you have) between
Old and foul hosen, with the feet uptied:
But first in excrement of swine unclean
Let all these sharp and poisonous tongues be fried.

(Recipe by Francois Villon; English translation by John Payne, 1878)

Sunday, June 14, 2009

You're so flashmobbed, baby

The Viennese Museumsquartier, MQ for short, is a largish area consisting of museums and small gallerys for the exhibition of Art with a capital A, and suchlike. Check the link - they have a rather good Cy Twombly-exhibition now. Oh, and some (new, pseudo-classy, not classical Viennese) cafés. Not too cheap ones.
Still, the main part of the MQ are its courtyards. Large ones. You can play boule there, and there are concerts and dances and stuff. But most of the time it's just a big free public space, made by the gods for simply hanging out.
Public space? Not exactly. Recently it has been infested with guys thet have SECURITY written on their shirts. They started by handing out little sheets in two languages, so that everyone could read what one must NOT do in the MQ. Such as: You can't sit there and consume a drink not bought at one of the cafés. You can't sit where you like, even when the official sitting-places are wet with rain, and the stone steps under the trees are nice and dry - sit in the wet or get away. You can't push your bike through those yards, let alone ride it, or slide by on rollerblades. You can't play music (we are talking ordinary guitars, not ghetto blasters). You can't this, and you mustn't that.

A protesting movement formed itself on the internet within days, resulting in a 2000-person-flashmob yesterday evening. The place was invaded to the strains of Cat Stevens' "If you wanna sing out, sing out". Most mobbers drank beer, and some had bikes. The museum's director has issued a statement, like "OK folks, just kidding".

You can do 'most anything with the Austrians. Tax them to the limit, arrest their neighbours for no good legal reason, they do nothing. BUT tell them they can't drink beer from the supermarket in a specified place, you have an uprising on your hands.

I really wonder what will happen to the MQ next - at the moment the protesters are enjoying a mass media hype, so I suppose it's a free country for the next few days.

Monday, May 18, 2009

news from the caterpillar

click on any of them to view in full size :-)

this one appeared last year when all europe was playing football.

this is the most recent one... though historically it should be number one.

the caterpillar's understanding of truth values in art :-)

...and here, he is to be seen as a cunning strategist.
coming soon: raupi the caterpillar in COLOUR!

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Friday, April 10, 2009


spring has come - just in time for Easter.

I don't even know what this tree's name is, but I found half a million of its petals in my hair and among my clothes today.

happy Easter, by the way!

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

forget the hogs... here's the rabbits!

supremely fluffy, everlastingly cute, the rabbit rules.