caru's blog

as promised long ago: the caterpillar in colour!

2009-09-04T06:23:00.001-07:00

(click to enlarge)

Fried Tongue

2009-07-05T09:15:00.000-07:00

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.

Envoi:

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)

You're so flashmobbed, baby

2009-06-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

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.

news from the caterpillar

2009-05-18T22:20:00.000-07:00

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!

petals

2009-04-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

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!

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

2009-04-07T02:52:00.000-07:00

supremely fluffy, everlastingly cute, the rabbit rules.

Hogwatching

2009-01-27T13:06:00.000-08:00

It's good to see that people on the web have SOME decency left. At least they don't post videos of fuckin' hedgehogs. Or hedgehogs fuckin'. That would be the limit, wouldn't it?

Yeah. (Such cuties.)

Condemning the Gs

2009-01-22T13:33:00.000-08:00

As we (me and a very lovely girl) decided the other day, most stuff that begins with G either doesn't exist, or else is of no use or even downright bad. As examples I may quote Geese, God, the city of Graz, and Ghosts.
One of the very few exceptions, as my friend pointed out, is the G-spot.

birds can be rather stupid

2009-01-09T15:06:00.000-08:00

(click to enlarge)

only birds, of course.

epithalamium

2008-12-21T15:32:00.000-08:00

though the wabe has its uses too,
who in their senses will not prefer
the graceful bumble-bee to the hive
and the honey, rich and preserving,
to the transient rose?

richer than bloom is the candled night,
when a girl outgrows quite decent prettiness
to don the goddess' garb:
vermilion to set off her rosier nails,
anklets and jingly toe-rings to faintly
accentuate her burrowing voice,
kajal less deeply black than her pupil
and silk to envy her hair.

let her walk with you on the sands
with the stable hand restraining the lion,
gracefully nodding her head in dimmed limelight,
while she hands you the swords to swallow
and fire to breathe -
every clap of each hand is hers
for reading your every thought.

The Good-Morrow

2008-12-22T12:00:00.000-08:00

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
did, till we lov'd? Were we not wean'd till then,
but suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snored we in the seven sleepers den?
'T was so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
which I desired and got, 't was but a dream of thee.

And now good morrow to our waking souls,
which watch not one another out of fear;
for love all love of other sights controls
and makes one little room an every-where.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
let maps to other worlds on worlds have shown;
let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
and true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
where can we find two better hemispheres
without sharp North, without declining West?
What ever dies, was not mix'd equally;
if our two loves be one, or thou and I
love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

John Donne

paint your house pink

2008-11-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

it's a really crazy feeling when you walk through Vienna by night and see one of our most expensive cafés look like this:

unfortunately, the building is white by day. greyish-yellowish, really. it's just some fancy lighting.

and damn 'em, they've got a freaking x-mas tree standing near the front door. in the middle of november.

Bearded Bookworm

2008-11-10T12:23:00.000-08:00

he's always carrying two tiny books, in case he should get hungry. currently he is living on a shelf with his friend the hairy caterpillar and one sacred cow from india.

Barack

2008-11-06T13:39:00.000-08:00

Hungarian for "apricot" (German: Aprikose, Austrian: Marille).
Best liked in the shape of barackpálinka, apricot brandy, which is often offered as an aperitif if one is lucky enough to dine with Hungarians.
Also makes a nice jam, which is often found inside krapfen or sachertorte.
For further information, see under Zwetschgenfleck.

Jaws

2008-11-03T13:12:00.000-08:00

"Since when have you been chewing gum? I thought you didn't like it."

"I don't. But I want my jaws to become as muscular as Senator McCain's."

These last three weeks I've been chewing gum on purpose, just to trigger this dialogue. It's been a big laugh every time.

always used to be an opera fan...

2008-10-20T14:26:00.000-07:00

the caterpillar crosses the street

2008-10-16T14:46:00.001-07:00

(click to enlarge)

the caterpillar's self-encounter

2008-09-03T03:30:00.000-07:00

(click to enlarge)

Cartoon Character Competition

2008-08-22T14:02:00.000-07:00

sometimes they seem to be arguing who's the sneakiest.

choice bits of woody mountainside

2008-07-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

starting with one very funny mushroom.

Sorry, no time

2008-07-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

If present and future depend on the past, obviously present and future already exist in the past; again, if they do not, how can present and future exist at all, being dependent on it?
But if they establish themselves without being dependent, then the past does not exist for them; it follows that neither present nor future exists. The same is true of all other possible combinations; "first, last and middle" and the like should always be termed "identical" or something similar.
Time that does not stand cannot be grasped. Time that does stand does not exist in such a way as to be grasped. And time that is not grasped - how can one even have a concept of it?

(Nâgârjuna, ca. 100 CE)

2008-07-21T14:26:00.000-07:00

But this is a heart, not brick or stone! why would it not fill with pain?
We will cry a thousand times anyway; why would anyone torment us?

There is no temple here, no shrine, no door, nor a door-sill either;
we are sitting in the midst of the road, why would another make us stand up?

With her heart-inflaming beauty, with her face like the sun at noon,
if she melts hearts just by being herself, why would she then veil her face?

The dagger-like glance is a thief of life, the dart of allure not to be dodged –
the mirror-image of your own face, how could it stand in front of you?

The prison of life and the fetter of grief are essentially one and the same;
before his death, how could a man ever find release from grief?

Beauty, and beautiful thinking too – no shame to a lustful man;
being confident about herself, why would she put to test another?

On that side, pride in greatness and allure; on this, bashful self-respect –
how could we ever meet in the streets, why would she invite us to a feast?

Yeah, she is ungodly; I dare say she ist faithless!
Having one’s heart or faith at heart, why would one go up her street?

Unless Ghālib goes to pieces, what labour of love will end?
Why cry bitter, bitter tears? why send up sigh after sigh?

(Mirza Ghalib)

VIVA ESPANA!!! ESPANA CAMPEÓN!!!

2008-06-29T14:08:00.000-07:00

damn it, and i don't even like football.

my cute little alien

2008-06-29T03:49:00.001-07:00

this is where he's at home.

one very playful ace of spades :-)

2008-06-24T09:44:00.000-07:00

Watch this. takes a hell of a lot of time to load, but it's cute.