With the last post on this blog being from October last year, you may have noticed that I have moved on. Not from writing, but from publishing here. In fall 2011, I took up writing weekly for the ZEST, the online newspaper (or, more accurately: blog) of English students at the University of Zurich.
The reason for this is that I have a larger audience (meaning that there are two or three people who actually read my writings ;-) ) and that I have a clear incentive (meaning that I am motivated to actually write, as I am on a weekly schedule and that I will try to reach a higher standard in quality, as my texts are published in official context). If for some reason, you actually read this blog and want to continue reading the thoughts from over there, you can check out my new pieces at the ZEST:
http://zuriest.wordpress.com/author/raphalguul/
As for the future of this blog: I will not be taking it down for now and I might feel like publishing something that does not have a place in a university-affiliated blog some time in the future. This post is just to explain the situation and direct anyone who's interested towards my new outlet. Thanks for the support, and see you around.
May 31, 2012
October 30, 2011
Raph's Guide to Moving Pictures #9: Childhood Memories and Motion Capture
You, my friends, are in for a treat. For the first time in the history of Raph's Guide to Moving Pictures, I will be reviewing a film that only just hit theaters less than a week before you are reading this. And of course, I am talking about The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn. This adaption of the legendary comics by Hergé, a collaboration by Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson, was highly anticipated by me, not because of the really damn big names up on those posters, but simply because I used to read and enjoy the hell out of those comics when I was younger and more into comics.
Now for those who know me it won't be news that I am not a frequent cinema-goer. In fact, I am not even sure when the last time I went was. Probably for what a friend of mine called "the hamster film" (the film was actually called Etienne!) which was in spring 2011. And the last time before that, I went to see Date Night in spring 2010. So, that I now actually got off my butt and went to see this film is actually kind of a big deal and demonstrates how much I wanted to see this. I also got pretty motivated by the fact that this film is premiering in Europe, and for once we have the privilege of seeing this American film in Europe long before it will hit theaters in the US. What a great way to pay tribute to the inherently European qualities of the beloved comics.
One concern for me was that the writing would have to be really good. Because when I heard that they were going to merge three of the books (SPOILER ALERT: The Crab with the Golden Claws, The Secret of the Unicorn, and Red Rackham's Treasure), I thought that there was a fifty/fifty chance that they were simply going to butcher all three of those. And when I heard that Steven Moffat was going to work on the script, I was even more concerned. Not that I consider Moffat to be a bad writer - on the contrary. But I simply don't know any of his work except for what he does for Doctor Who. And I was afraid he was going to take a too science-fiction-y approach to the story. However, after having seen the film, I was relieved. The story is a beautiful merger of the three original books (SPOILER ALERT: and they even managed to somehow add Bianca Castafiore, or whatever that character's godforsaken name is, to the picture). Obviously some things were dropped and some other things were added, but it is all in good balance. I personally thought some things that happened in the ending were a bit over the top, but not enough to actually bother me.
Now there is one issue that I need to address; 3D. And I don't mean the animation; I have already covered that. I mean the fact that The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn is "presented in 3D" which means you have to wear those stupid glasses in order to watch this film in the cinema. And apart from my apparent dislike for those glasses (I am wearing glasses outside the theaters, as well, and I don't appreciate having to wear two pairs of glasses at the same time), the film definitely does not need the 3D effect. I mean, come on, it's motion capture CGI based on (two dimensional) comics, how much more 3D do you need to make it until you're satisfied? I personally am looking forward to the DVD release so I can enjoy this little gem in 2D or as Jim Florentine would probably call it: regular D.One more thing before I will try to make my recommendation: I actually went to this film with my mother well, originally it was just supposed to be her and me - but then she made this whole family thing out of it and we went with my dad, my 3 sisters, and one of my sisters' boyfriend). And before you call me a mama's boy, consider that it was my mother who had owned the comics that I had read when I was a boy, and that it was not just that she herself was even more into them than i was, but also that essentially only because of her, I actually cared about this film. Now HER comment on the film was that you don't need to see it if you're simply a fan of the comics. So apparently to her, the film was not close enough to the comics. Maybe it takes a very specific amount of fandom to be able to appreciate the adaption for its heritage.
So, to top things off, here's my conclusion: First of all, it's a good film, whether or not you know or like the comics at all. I especially liked the animation and the excellent writing, but I also thought that particularly the sound design had its moments, as well. Now, if you do know the comics, then you will be able to have a completely new angle at this film (SPOILER ALERT: Even the intro is a compilation of all the adventures of Tintin). The level of detail is almost stunning, especially if you can make sense of it via childhood memories. However, apparently I cannot make a trustworthy statement about whether or not it is enough to just watch this film because you want to see the comics turned into a film. I thought it was brilliant, but at the same time others thought that that connection did not show enough. However, when in doubt, I'd say if you like adventure stories and don't mind the 3D-glasses, go for it. As I mentioned before, there are a lot of big names behind this film (the honorable mention obviously goes to John Williams whose soundtrack did not disappoint - as it never does); and they definitely know what they are doing. Alternatively, you could also just wait for the DVD-release if you're patient enough and don't care much for the sensationalist ways cinema makes itself up these days.
September 21, 2011
9/11
Roy looked up at the dusty television in the corner. Apparently, some planes had crashed into a building in the States. The United States. Three months in a sandy desert and the word "home" had lost almost all of its meaning. He turned back to his patient, an about 12 months old kid. A baby that her mother apparently had tried to put out of its misery of thirst, hunger, and poor hygiene. They had found the kid lying next to the starved 31 year old woman who had shot her baby in the eye and herself in the brains. The kid must have been lying there for several hours. Ants and flies and other insects had immediately started to crawl into the open wound. What an opportunity for them. All-you-can-eat and the only way the baby could defend itself was by emitting a faint cry. They had cleaned the flesh and tried to disinfect it. Roy was not sure if the kid was gonna make it. And if, the permanent damages might be immense. They tried what they could, but ultimately, it was not in their power to save the baby. It would be pure luck. A one year old human being, unable to speak or think a clear thought already depended on luck to survive.
On the dim screen they showed the plane again. Slow-motion. He watched the seemingly small aircraft approaching the giant tower frame by frame from the corner of his eye. It wasn't really a clip, it was a slideshow. They brought in a 20 year old woman who apparently had suffered from thirst so badly that she had decided to drink from a container of gasoline. They hadn't managed to make her throw it all up again and now her liver and kidneys had begun to fail. The poor woman was screaming in pain and Roy had trouble to even make her take some painkillers.
"A dark day for America-"
Through the noise of the camp the announcer on television sounded distant, unimportant.
Roy saw an average of 40 patients a day. Some were brought to him, but most of the time, he had to find them in the mass of sick, wounded, crippled, and dying people that were pressed together in the camp and even outside in the burning sunlight. An endless ocean of pain, grief, desperation. Screaming, crying, weeping and shouting hit everyone in the face who dared to come close to the camp. Roy was 26 years old. This had been somewhat of an alternative to an internship. It sounded good on paper: Charitable work where it was needed. Half a year over there, hands-on experience, the feeling of redemption for living a life in a less troubled society. On his first day he already realized that this wasn't a trip to Africa. It was a trip to hell. He was a tourist looking at people dying in the worst possible way. And after the first had died, they turned and looked at the ones next to them. Few survived. Every tiny little victory of life was followed by death's giant parade of suffering.
This guy's house had burned to the ground while he was sleeping inside of it. Some people would have called it a miracle that he even got out of the flames alive. Roy rather thought of it as a satanic twist. The fire had destroyed most of the man's skin. Roy knew that they didn't have the equipment to replace it in time. Unless there would be an actual miracle, the man would suffocate to death soon. The only two reasons that the medical staff of the camp would visit him were to either give him some more painkillers or, for those who actually believed in miracles, to see if his condition had actually improved. It never did. And Roy wasn't one to believe in miracles after being here for three months.
When he returned to the station that he shared with Doctor Howe, the television was still showing images of the two towers and the planes. Two people had jumped out of the building. Huge falling distance, no way they would make it. They were holding hands. Doctor Howe was supposed to be Roy's instructor. But the 63 year old veteran of medicine made it clear from the first day that Roy would be going to have his own shift during which he would be on his own. Obviously, there had been an introduction of sorts and "the Doc", as they called him, told Roy that he was allowed to ask the other staff members about things he wasn't sure about. Though Roy didn't feel that it was encouraged. Once Roy had asked “the Doc” why the television was tuned into American broadcasts all day. It puts things into perspective, was all he said. And Roy didn't bother changing channels. No one, including himself, really watched anyway.
Three months later, he went back home, left Africa behind, left hell behind. They had managed to save the baby from death, although there were signs of severe brain damage. The twenty year old woman had died of an infection that they hadn't even noticed until it was too late. They hadn't had the time to check when she had been admitted. A satanic twist. The burn victim had gone on to live another week of excruciating pain until he finally passed. Roy left all of them behind. His relatives and friends asked all sorts of questions. He only answered few, shrugged a lot. A few years later, when he was working at a hospital, a guy he was working with asked him where he was on 9/11. Roy had forgotten. Repressed. The things he had seen that day were too horrible to remember.
July 30, 2011
Farmlog: Comeback Edition, Part III
--day 19, 18:30 Four more days
As you all know, I like to rant about stuff. And one thing I frequently - annually, to be precise - rant about is the weird celebration of national day. But this year, it's actually doing me some good. I will not have to work on that day, which means that from here on out, I only have to work for four more days to complete this summers farm business. Of course, I will still rant about the mindless Swiss people celebrating nonsense, but the rant might be published a tad later due to my internetlessness at that date.
Anyway, the week was not all that packed with events worth mentioning. On Tuesday, Judith and Werner went on some kind of trip, so I had to guard the house. I basically had to do everything myself except for the milking which was done by someone who came by specifically for that purpose. Needless to say that I simply rushed through the tasks I was given so that I could run around the place afterwards, taking pictures. You can see the visual farmlog on my facebook profile.
Again, the weather wasn't all that great and we ended up doing a lot of woodwork. I say woodwork because it was no longer just me chopping wood, but we actually went ahead and worked on bigger pieces. It is basically the predecessor of wood-chopping because one simply chops larger wood, the kind that you cannot use an axe for. It wasn't that great, but it wasn't that terrible, either.
So, today Judith lost it, similar to Werner loosing it last week. Guess she dropped one of the chickens' eggs and right after that, she spilled some milk. She got all angry and was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It was a bit annoying. What was funny though, is that apparently, when farmers get upset and throw in the towel, the worst punishment for them seems to be to have to go back to bed. I thought "Are you kidding? I'm gonna mess up every single thing from now on so you will send me to bed".
Well, as I said: Not much else to talk about. Have a nice weekend. Raph out.
As you all know, I like to rant about stuff. And one thing I frequently - annually, to be precise - rant about is the weird celebration of national day. But this year, it's actually doing me some good. I will not have to work on that day, which means that from here on out, I only have to work for four more days to complete this summers farm business. Of course, I will still rant about the mindless Swiss people celebrating nonsense, but the rant might be published a tad later due to my internetlessness at that date.
Anyway, the week was not all that packed with events worth mentioning. On Tuesday, Judith and Werner went on some kind of trip, so I had to guard the house. I basically had to do everything myself except for the milking which was done by someone who came by specifically for that purpose. Needless to say that I simply rushed through the tasks I was given so that I could run around the place afterwards, taking pictures. You can see the visual farmlog on my facebook profile.
Again, the weather wasn't all that great and we ended up doing a lot of woodwork. I say woodwork because it was no longer just me chopping wood, but we actually went ahead and worked on bigger pieces. It is basically the predecessor of wood-chopping because one simply chops larger wood, the kind that you cannot use an axe for. It wasn't that great, but it wasn't that terrible, either.
So, today Judith lost it, similar to Werner loosing it last week. Guess she dropped one of the chickens' eggs and right after that, she spilled some milk. She got all angry and was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It was a bit annoying. What was funny though, is that apparently, when farmers get upset and throw in the towel, the worst punishment for them seems to be to have to go back to bed. I thought "Are you kidding? I'm gonna mess up every single thing from now on so you will send me to bed".
Well, as I said: Not much else to talk about. Have a nice weekend. Raph out.
July 22, 2011
Farmlog: Comeback Edition, Part II
--day 12, 18:30 The story of my balls
Half-time? You bet. Wasn't a good week for summery farming. Weather kept playing tricks on us. When it would look kinda nice outside and the sun would actually shine through, you could be sure that ten minutes later it would rain for just a few minutes, just to ensure nothing could actually be dried in this weather. It was annoying for Werner and Judith, but to be completely honest, I think it would have been more ehausting if I had to work in the heat of the day. This way, it was actually kinda easy. Not much hard work. I did so much wood chopping, I ran out of shitty wood to chop. Also, I trashed the axe. Got another one and later, Werner fixed the first one. I thought that was awesome. I live in such a "one-way-consumption" environment, I didn't even know it was possible to fix a broken axe. Come the apocalypse, I'm gonna stick with farmers.
Yesterday, Werner actually lost it. The weather had been bad all week and we had to move quick to get something done before it started raining again. But he wouldn't get the machines to work properly and he also accidentally hit a ladder that was hanging on a wall when moving a large truck-like vehicle called the "muli" out of the garage. Of course, the thing got damaged and he cursed the shit out of it. It's funny how farmers swear. They call their machines names. It's not like "fuck, it doesn't work", it's more like "You shitty little piece of motherfucking ass-face, get going already". Of course that doesn't work and makes the machine move, but it's kinda funny to experience. He got very despaired that day - at 9:30 in the morning already. Which - again - was good for me, because that meant he wasn't motivated to do anything big and I was simply sent to chop wood again. Not hard work.
Now, the highlight of the week - of course - involved my balls, something that I have not been talking in the farmlog, yet. Of course, if you don't want to know about my balls, just stop reading at this point. Though, I don't really get why you'd start reading this in the first place, in that case, considering the title of this entry. Anyway, so the other day, I think it was Wednesday - might have been Thursday - I found a tick on my balls. Those things are pretty common in environments like these and especially the cats have them. And since I love cats, I end up close to ticks a lot, too. So I guess one found me tasty, eventually and started to leech some blood. Now, what I wonder is why it would possibly pick my balls. And of course the first thing to come to my mind was that THIS is a completely different way of following the instruction to suck my balls. And I also hoped that this thing was female because otherwise, it might be gay, right? Getting your balls sucked by a male tick is completely gay, that's logical deduction, isn't it. And there was something else I wondered: If a tick ends up in my crouch region, why would it go for the balls? How much blood is in those, anyway? Right next to that, there's a penis. And one little arousal should grant the tick food for a family of 30, right? Well, I guess it was a stupid little sucker. I'm a sucker too, though; When I pulled it off and positioned it on the table to squash it, it slipped of the table and survived. It's still somewhere in my room, I guess. Who knows? Maybe it's gonna get another chance to choose between dick and balls. Maybe next time it's gonna be wiser. I sure hope it's not gonna come to the whole situation, though. I don't enjoy sharing my blood with insects.
Yup, that's it. Kind of boring week, so a story about my genitals is the best I can come up with right now. Enjoy your weekend, I'm sure gonna enjoy mine.
Half-time? You bet. Wasn't a good week for summery farming. Weather kept playing tricks on us. When it would look kinda nice outside and the sun would actually shine through, you could be sure that ten minutes later it would rain for just a few minutes, just to ensure nothing could actually be dried in this weather. It was annoying for Werner and Judith, but to be completely honest, I think it would have been more ehausting if I had to work in the heat of the day. This way, it was actually kinda easy. Not much hard work. I did so much wood chopping, I ran out of shitty wood to chop. Also, I trashed the axe. Got another one and later, Werner fixed the first one. I thought that was awesome. I live in such a "one-way-consumption" environment, I didn't even know it was possible to fix a broken axe. Come the apocalypse, I'm gonna stick with farmers.
Yesterday, Werner actually lost it. The weather had been bad all week and we had to move quick to get something done before it started raining again. But he wouldn't get the machines to work properly and he also accidentally hit a ladder that was hanging on a wall when moving a large truck-like vehicle called the "muli" out of the garage. Of course, the thing got damaged and he cursed the shit out of it. It's funny how farmers swear. They call their machines names. It's not like "fuck, it doesn't work", it's more like "You shitty little piece of motherfucking ass-face, get going already". Of course that doesn't work and makes the machine move, but it's kinda funny to experience. He got very despaired that day - at 9:30 in the morning already. Which - again - was good for me, because that meant he wasn't motivated to do anything big and I was simply sent to chop wood again. Not hard work.
Now, the highlight of the week - of course - involved my balls, something that I have not been talking in the farmlog, yet. Of course, if you don't want to know about my balls, just stop reading at this point. Though, I don't really get why you'd start reading this in the first place, in that case, considering the title of this entry. Anyway, so the other day, I think it was Wednesday - might have been Thursday - I found a tick on my balls. Those things are pretty common in environments like these and especially the cats have them. And since I love cats, I end up close to ticks a lot, too. So I guess one found me tasty, eventually and started to leech some blood. Now, what I wonder is why it would possibly pick my balls. And of course the first thing to come to my mind was that THIS is a completely different way of following the instruction to suck my balls. And I also hoped that this thing was female because otherwise, it might be gay, right? Getting your balls sucked by a male tick is completely gay, that's logical deduction, isn't it. And there was something else I wondered: If a tick ends up in my crouch region, why would it go for the balls? How much blood is in those, anyway? Right next to that, there's a penis. And one little arousal should grant the tick food for a family of 30, right? Well, I guess it was a stupid little sucker. I'm a sucker too, though; When I pulled it off and positioned it on the table to squash it, it slipped of the table and survived. It's still somewhere in my room, I guess. Who knows? Maybe it's gonna get another chance to choose between dick and balls. Maybe next time it's gonna be wiser. I sure hope it's not gonna come to the whole situation, though. I don't enjoy sharing my blood with insects.
Yup, that's it. Kind of boring week, so a story about my genitals is the best I can come up with right now. Enjoy your weekend, I'm sure gonna enjoy mine.
July 16, 2011
Farmlog: Comeback Edition, Part I
--day 01, 20:10 The Comeback
So... I'm back. As you may remember, I said that if the opporunity presents itself, I will be eager to go back to the farm to work with Judith and Werner again, preferably in summer. And it is summer! And the opportunity presented itself. So here I am. Let's start with some general remarks to tie up some loose ends from last time. First of all, Judtih's father died. Back when I was here for the first time, I actually kinda thought that if I come back one day, he might be gone... I mean after all, he was 80-something years old. But I didn't think I'd be back half a year later and he would already have died. But that's life and it wouldn't be without this part. So he's gone. I wonder who will bring me to the bus station on Friday.
This time, I'm not here to build a house, but to help with the "harvest" if you can call it that. Basically, what we do is cutting grass, drying it, turning it, drying it some more, and then bring it into storage for the winter. It's actually very similar to bringing in grass the way we did in the earlier days of last time. When there wasn't snow all over the place, yet.
I'm not in the same room as last time. This one is actually a bit farther away from what you might call the "master bedroom". So that probably means Werner won't be able to bang his wife agains the wall of my room. Hopefully.
Alright, so today was the first day and of course it was very different from last time I was here. Temperatures played a big part in that, by the way. Although I'm not gonna bitch about it just yet because apparently tomorrow, it's gonna get really hot, not just "breezily hot" like today. We'll see how I think about the weather then.
But just to make sure I bitch about at least one thing in this edition of the farmlog, there is something that is terribly annoying and that I kind of forgot to take into account: Bugs. Especially the horseflies are unbearable. I got bitten three times in the first three hours, then I stopped counting. I hope they don't transmit diseases. Otherwise, I'm toast. As some may know, I freak out and panic when I see wasps. Guess what other flying insect I met in masses today? Yup. I ran and screamed like a little girl.
But let's get on and quickly do a mini-recap of the day; I'm tired. Most of the time, we would just be doing one of the abovementioned things that deal with grass. Takes a lot of time, especially when there is a lot of grass. And there is. I also got to work with the cows again, which was a pleasant (and shitty) déjà vu. Oh and I chopped some wood. That was awesome. Why? Because it's such a beautifully destructive occupation. Maybe you remember how I felt about smashing apples to shreds. This was similar, but with an axe.
That's all for right now. As I said. I'm tired. There is many more things, but I might be up for those in a later edition. Thanks for reading, and good night.
--day 05, 18:56 There we go
First "week" (well, five days) over. Time to bitch about stuff? Well... To be honest, it didn't get all that bad. The weather did get a lot hotter on Tuesday, but it was okay. I do have to say though: Bugs. Terribly annoying. Interestingly, the second you are in a more dry place, you won't encounter that many horseflies anymore. Instead, the number of regular flies buzzing around, trying to enter every (!) hole of your body, hits insanity. It's ridiculous. But that's still better than horseflies biting the shit out of you. So I have to be honest and not bitch. But just this once.
By the way, on tuesday, another calf was born and I got to help with the delivery. It's amazing. That thing is the size of a seven year old kid when it comes outta there. And I mean... that poor cow's vagina. Anyway, I pitty any birth-giving vagina. Bless them all. Plus, a calf learns standing and walking during the first twelve hours of its life. How amazing is that? It takes us stoopid humans months and sometimes years to do so. What's also funny and what I forgot about until now is that the mother will just kinda blurt out noises at the newborn for 15 minutes straight. I wonder if it's trying to make itself known to the kid or if it's just complaining about how the calf ravaged the cow's vagina on its way out.
Also, speaking of seven year old kids, one of Judith's sisters visited. And she brought a seven year old boy. I don't think it was her son, but in some fashion related. Maybe she's his granny or something. Anyway, that little dude was all over me. I felt like a reverse-pedophile. It was like I was some kind of beloved big brother who made sassy remarks at anything he said. He would like hug me and climb on me and hang off my neck... it was weird. But from what I gathered, he doesn't have any siblings and since I look kinda young and was all nice and cool about it, maybe he just took advantage of that and acted like I was "the cool bro". And to be honest, I thought that was cool in some way.
Wood chopping kinda got my main gig now. I'd be done with something and I'd go and ask what to do next and the answer would be: "Go chop some wood."
"So, I cleaned the barn, what next?" - "Go chop some wood."
"So, I'm done, can I go now or is there something else?" - "Go chop some wood."
"Uhm... I'm hungry." - "Go chop some wood."
Today, we "harvested" honey. Wow. Everything gets fucking sticky and kinda delicously disgusting. It was an interesting experience. The good thing about it is that it really isn't any hard work. You just peel off the wax so you can get to the sweet stuff. You can actually sit during work. I haven't done much at the farm that involved sitting so far. So that was kinda cool.
Also, I have decided to shower on friday evening before I go home from now on. I have no idea how I could not have done this before. Sure, everybody in trains stinks anyway, bot holy shit, farm-Raph stinks 10 times as much. So now, I will not scare people away with my stench when riding the train back home. Ain't I nice. Anyway, thanks for reading, I'm off to drink beer, watch Doctor Who or something and have a great time of recreation. Cheers.
So... I'm back. As you may remember, I said that if the opporunity presents itself, I will be eager to go back to the farm to work with Judith and Werner again, preferably in summer. And it is summer! And the opportunity presented itself. So here I am. Let's start with some general remarks to tie up some loose ends from last time. First of all, Judtih's father died. Back when I was here for the first time, I actually kinda thought that if I come back one day, he might be gone... I mean after all, he was 80-something years old. But I didn't think I'd be back half a year later and he would already have died. But that's life and it wouldn't be without this part. So he's gone. I wonder who will bring me to the bus station on Friday.
This time, I'm not here to build a house, but to help with the "harvest" if you can call it that. Basically, what we do is cutting grass, drying it, turning it, drying it some more, and then bring it into storage for the winter. It's actually very similar to bringing in grass the way we did in the earlier days of last time. When there wasn't snow all over the place, yet.
I'm not in the same room as last time. This one is actually a bit farther away from what you might call the "master bedroom". So that probably means Werner won't be able to bang his wife agains the wall of my room. Hopefully.
Alright, so today was the first day and of course it was very different from last time I was here. Temperatures played a big part in that, by the way. Although I'm not gonna bitch about it just yet because apparently tomorrow, it's gonna get really hot, not just "breezily hot" like today. We'll see how I think about the weather then.
But just to make sure I bitch about at least one thing in this edition of the farmlog, there is something that is terribly annoying and that I kind of forgot to take into account: Bugs. Especially the horseflies are unbearable. I got bitten three times in the first three hours, then I stopped counting. I hope they don't transmit diseases. Otherwise, I'm toast. As some may know, I freak out and panic when I see wasps. Guess what other flying insect I met in masses today? Yup. I ran and screamed like a little girl.
But let's get on and quickly do a mini-recap of the day; I'm tired. Most of the time, we would just be doing one of the abovementioned things that deal with grass. Takes a lot of time, especially when there is a lot of grass. And there is. I also got to work with the cows again, which was a pleasant (and shitty) déjà vu. Oh and I chopped some wood. That was awesome. Why? Because it's such a beautifully destructive occupation. Maybe you remember how I felt about smashing apples to shreds. This was similar, but with an axe.
That's all for right now. As I said. I'm tired. There is many more things, but I might be up for those in a later edition. Thanks for reading, and good night.
--day 05, 18:56 There we go
First "week" (well, five days) over. Time to bitch about stuff? Well... To be honest, it didn't get all that bad. The weather did get a lot hotter on Tuesday, but it was okay. I do have to say though: Bugs. Terribly annoying. Interestingly, the second you are in a more dry place, you won't encounter that many horseflies anymore. Instead, the number of regular flies buzzing around, trying to enter every (!) hole of your body, hits insanity. It's ridiculous. But that's still better than horseflies biting the shit out of you. So I have to be honest and not bitch. But just this once.
By the way, on tuesday, another calf was born and I got to help with the delivery. It's amazing. That thing is the size of a seven year old kid when it comes outta there. And I mean... that poor cow's vagina. Anyway, I pitty any birth-giving vagina. Bless them all. Plus, a calf learns standing and walking during the first twelve hours of its life. How amazing is that? It takes us stoopid humans months and sometimes years to do so. What's also funny and what I forgot about until now is that the mother will just kinda blurt out noises at the newborn for 15 minutes straight. I wonder if it's trying to make itself known to the kid or if it's just complaining about how the calf ravaged the cow's vagina on its way out.
Also, speaking of seven year old kids, one of Judith's sisters visited. And she brought a seven year old boy. I don't think it was her son, but in some fashion related. Maybe she's his granny or something. Anyway, that little dude was all over me. I felt like a reverse-pedophile. It was like I was some kind of beloved big brother who made sassy remarks at anything he said. He would like hug me and climb on me and hang off my neck... it was weird. But from what I gathered, he doesn't have any siblings and since I look kinda young and was all nice and cool about it, maybe he just took advantage of that and acted like I was "the cool bro". And to be honest, I thought that was cool in some way.
Wood chopping kinda got my main gig now. I'd be done with something and I'd go and ask what to do next and the answer would be: "Go chop some wood."
"So, I cleaned the barn, what next?" - "Go chop some wood."
"So, I'm done, can I go now or is there something else?" - "Go chop some wood."
"Uhm... I'm hungry." - "Go chop some wood."
Today, we "harvested" honey. Wow. Everything gets fucking sticky and kinda delicously disgusting. It was an interesting experience. The good thing about it is that it really isn't any hard work. You just peel off the wax so you can get to the sweet stuff. You can actually sit during work. I haven't done much at the farm that involved sitting so far. So that was kinda cool.
Also, I have decided to shower on friday evening before I go home from now on. I have no idea how I could not have done this before. Sure, everybody in trains stinks anyway, bot holy shit, farm-Raph stinks 10 times as much. So now, I will not scare people away with my stench when riding the train back home. Ain't I nice. Anyway, thanks for reading, I'm off to drink beer, watch Doctor Who or something and have a great time of recreation. Cheers.
June 17, 2011
I Am There
You don't know who I am? Sure you don't. I wouldn't want it any other way.
But let me tell you what you DO know. You know that I will be there. I'm the one lurking in the shadows, the one that you can only catch a glimpse of in the corner of your eye. I'm the dark that spreads when you're not looking and I'm the air that you can't see even if you're looking right at it. I am not dangerous but I could be. And you are not afraid of me but you should be. I will be there to take what's mine and I will always be there to give you to what's yours.
You don't know me and I don't want you to. Because the day I am known is the day I die. And I will never die. Because I know where to hide, know how to flee, know what to do and what not to. It's a lonely existence, but I am never alone because I am always there. I'm the one behind you right now, but do not bother turning around because you will not see me. I'm fast. Fast like the wind, fast like a cat. I do not chase, I follow. Slowly, steadily. I have time. All the time in the world to strike. Because you are known and I am not. I will never die. Because I choose not to. Did you see me right there? No you didn't. To you, I am but a shadow in a cave, always ready to dissappear into thin air. Unseen, undefined. Do not challenge me. I will know you. And you will die.
But let me tell you what you DO know. You know that I will be there. I'm the one lurking in the shadows, the one that you can only catch a glimpse of in the corner of your eye. I'm the dark that spreads when you're not looking and I'm the air that you can't see even if you're looking right at it. I am not dangerous but I could be. And you are not afraid of me but you should be. I will be there to take what's mine and I will always be there to give you to what's yours.
You don't know me and I don't want you to. Because the day I am known is the day I die. And I will never die. Because I know where to hide, know how to flee, know what to do and what not to. It's a lonely existence, but I am never alone because I am always there. I'm the one behind you right now, but do not bother turning around because you will not see me. I'm fast. Fast like the wind, fast like a cat. I do not chase, I follow. Slowly, steadily. I have time. All the time in the world to strike. Because you are known and I am not. I will never die. Because I choose not to. Did you see me right there? No you didn't. To you, I am but a shadow in a cave, always ready to dissappear into thin air. Unseen, undefined. Do not challenge me. I will know you. And you will die.
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