Aldo Manutio era un escriptor i impressor italià al qual se li atribueix l'honor d'inventar les tipografies i establir el patró de publicacions que coneixem avui en dia. El seu lema personal Festina Lente és un savi consell que dissenyà amb una àncora entrellaçada amb dofins. Els dofins rabiosos i la sòlida àncora il·lustren una veritat paradoxal: El progrés bo i veritable flueix de la unió entre l'impetuositat i l'alentiment. Ens surt millor quan ho fem lentament i tot i així ens donem pressa.

diumenge, 3 de juliol de 2011

Risking status

True subjectivation is a bit more than that. Some people may perhaps be that, but a majority of the people they are still far from true subjectivation. When you have a status -and think about yourself, I think about me, so everyone has to look at it. When you have a status, look at how fearful you may be at risking that. When you are in a position to risk that -and we have seen this here in the universities at the UK, in academia- we see this inconsistency gap between being very outspoken in public, in meetings like this one, or in the corridors, and afterwards, in the business' usual meeting people go along with whatever, and I have to tell you, I'm a little bit fed up with that, you know. When you are in a position to risk... -and the last point, somebody said it: leave everything behind and follow me. We don't need to reach this point yet, we need to reach the first point: be able to risk. So make a wordchain and be able to risk. Risk your status there. Risk it. So in relation to this political form of organization we need true subjectivation, and two things: distance from the State -and here the state obviously, means the State with capital S, and related to that, the break or non-break between the time of subjectivation in the public squares.

Carlos Frade -University of Salford, -13.01 Minute.
http://backdoorbroadcasting.net/2011/06/the-rise-of-the-indignant-spain-greece-europe/

Slavoj Žižek - What does it mean to be a revolutionary today? Marxism 2009



We need people like this. People who... you know, bring forth the enemy, go through and see where they stand, where we stand. In the good old days -now comes the dirty old conclusion, I warn you- in the good old days of freely existing Socialism, a joke was popular among dissidents -a joke used to illustrate the futility of their protests. In the fifteenth century old Russia, occupied by mongols, that's the joke, a farmer and his wife walked along a dusty countryroad. A mongol warrior on a horse stopped at their side and tells the farmer that he will now rape his wife. 'But since there is a lot of dust in the ground you should hold my testicles while I'm raping your wife so that they will not get dusty, dirty'. After the mongol finishes his job and drives away, the farmer starts to laugh and jump with joy. The surprised wife asks him, 'How can you be jumping with joy when I was just brutally raped?'. The farmer answers 'But I got him! His balls are full of dust!'. This sad joke tells off the predicament of dissidents. They thought they were dealing serious blows to the party nomenclatura but all they were doing was well, getting a little bit of dust on the nomenclatura's testicles. Is today's critical left all too often not in a similar position? We think we are doing something terribly subversive but we are just.... Our task is to discover how to make a step further. Our theses today should be critical leftists have hither to dirt with dust the balls of those in power. The point is to cut them off.

Minute 21.45
Enllaç

Jarvis Cocker on Writing and Publishing his Lyrics from FaberBooks on Vimeo.

about moralities. not explanations.

-I got an organic pizza.
-As opposed to an inorganic one?
-There's no chemicals in it.
-What, none? What's it made from, neutrinos?
-You know what I mean. It's got, like, natural peperoni on it.
-I shudder to think what unnatural peperoni would be.
-Suit yourself. More for me, then.
-Is that an "organic" Cola you're having with it?
-I'm going to eat this somewhere else.

Moral: Organic people of the world , screw you. Consider the lobster.

dijous, 12 de maig de 2011

How To Make Money In London

How To Make Money In London

Apr. 18, 2011

“Hi I saw your ad and would love to meet you later today, I live in Blackheath in SE London, have my own place, I can pay your travel over if interested? Please get back x”

“Hi darling, sent you a message earlier, forgot to give you my mobile no: xxxxxxxxxxxxx Prepared to give you more than £200 per hour if interested? xx Btw I am an ok looking guy!”

“ok sounds great when is a good time? we can meet at the nearest tube station to you i dont have a phone btw we’ll have to coordinate over email but would love to meet asap, emily”

“Hi Emily, thanks for getting back, I am based in Blackheath and would love to meet you about 7 tonight if that’s not too late? I am not near a tube station but could meet u at Blackheath railway station or arrange taxi? Pls get back”

“i can meet you at blackheath. 7 tonight is fine”

“Ok I will meet you at the railway station at 7, how will I know you? And can you confirm that you are not part an agency, i’m not interested in that. Sorry to ask ”

“i’ll be wearing the big sunglasses as in the photo and i’ll have a black plaid shirt on and a black skirt w/ black tights and black heels. how can i confirm it? here’s a link to my facebook page if that makes me seem more real. will you pay me at the station and then we’ll go back to your place? how much do you want to pay if not 200 pounds?”

“Thank you for your honesty, I will give you the £200 at the station, then extra £100 at my place. Could I also buy you a drink when you get to Blackheath?”

“okay it sounds fine. a drink sounds great too. thanks for not giving me a hard time. looking forward to seeing you x”

i stared at the computer screen.

i am i really going to do this? i guess i don’t have any choice.
i have about 12 pounds to last me for 10 more days in london.

what did i do to my debit card? the last time i remember having it was when i was buying a ticket to portsmouth at waterloo…

how could you be so irresponsible, marie?

but, i’m fixing the problem now.

there’s nothing else i can do, having not told any of my family or friends that i was going to england.

anyway, i want to make my own money, now that i’m 20.

_____

i looked up how to get to blackheath railway station. i felt annoyed that i couldn’t just ride the tube. i had to go to london bridge, and then take a train from there.

it was 2 PM. i got off the computer and went and tried to nap in my hostel room.

starting from 4 i changed my clothes, brushed my teeth, straightened my hair, put perfume on, and tried to hide my huge dark circles with concealer. it was a lost cause. i figured i would just keep my sunglasses on until i was back at his place, when it would be too late for him to change his mind. i wondered if i was cheating him, by getting 300 pounds to have sex with him. i wondered why he would offer to pay more than i asked. i thought it was a bit suspicious, but i figured since we were meeting in public and he was paying me upfront it’d be okay.

_____

i left the hostel at 4:30.

as i was walking to the tube station i heard whistling from across the street and turned to look. it was some australian boys about my age from my hostel, waving at me. i ignored them.

i rode the tube to london bridge station thinking about how i had met my friend there a few days ago, and how now i was going back under such different circumstances.

on the tube there were three school girls absolutely plastered in make-up talking at length about their diets and other girls at school. they all had incredibly grating voices, even more so than most english women.

“i was good yesterday, but this morning i had toast. oh but then for lunch i had cherries.”

“cherries are good, but the toast …”

“the other day i ate sooo much i had …”

“did you see she dyed her hair ginger and black? yeah, like that’s attractive.”

“she’s sooo fat, it’s hilarious!”

they all started giggling at length and it was so grating and i was so hungover

i couldn’t take it and switched compartments at the next stop.

as i was getting off the train one of them said, “that girl looked really weird.”

how can people like that actually exist?

i wondered what the guy would be like. i wished i had asked him to send me a picture. he had seemed like the nicest and was the most serious (i had annoyed with and ignored the guys who asked me to send them tons of pictures and write paragraphs about “what i was into.”)

i was worried i wouldn’t be able to talk to him or that things would be really awkward, but i decided i’d buy beer at a convenience store and chug it before i met him, so i’d be tipsy and less nervous.

_____

the train to blackheath was annoying. i had a headache from being hungover, and it was absolutely packed with loud italian tourists who kept yelling and laughing almost right in my ear. i held my head in my hands. “i can’t stand these fucking people,” i whispered.

but then i looked at an adorable little black boy and smiled at him. then i felt a bit sad.

my train arrived at bleackheath station at about 6 pm. i walked to a convenience store and bought two stella artois. there wasn’t really anywhere i could sit and drink it discretely, so i guzzled one can in front of a trash can, and figured i would save the other can for a bit.

a lot of people gave me looks. blackheath was really pretty and really rich looking. everyone was pretty and well dressed. i felt uncomfortable.

i wondered where to wait for the guy. i decided just to lean against a wall near the exit of the train station.

two teenagers came up to me, one a very cute girl.

“do you get served?” she asked.

“what?”

“do you get served?” she asked again, more slowly.

“i don’t understand what you’re asking me, sorry.”

they walked away.

i realized she meant that she wanted me to buy her alcohol. i sighed realizing i would probably never get the chance to get a cute 15 year old english girl drunk again.

i saw a kind looking business man waiting in front of the station across the sidewalk from me, smoking.

i went up to him. “um, can i get a cigarette off of you, please?”

“what?”

“may i have a cigarette, please?”

“um, sure.” he said and gave me one.

“thanks.”

i needed to smoke because it was 6:30 now and the whole thing was starting to seem more real to me.

i tried to comfort myself with these thoughts: i won’t get hurt because it doesn’t really make sense to think that will happen. most men want to have sex with cute 20 year old girls. very few are sociopath serial killers. caroline had sex with tons of guys from craigslist and nothing bad ever happened to her. and england isn’t nearly as violent…

and then i started to think: and anyway, i kind of don’t care if i get murdered. i guess that’s an immature thing to think and if something actually happened i’d be terrified, but right now thinking about it, i don’t care. i guess it’d be bad if I got murdered and then they told my parents the situation but…

i was mostly anxious about him not finding me attractive or not showing up and me being out of money, or not having anything to say and it being really awkward.

i looked at myself in the reflective window of the train station.

“don’t worry, you look beautiful,” some old man said as he walked past me.

i leaned back up against the wall, checking the clock constantly. i looked at every guy who walked towards the station, wondering if it was him. i was again mad at myself for not asking for a picture or at least a description. but i also figured it was probably for the best so i couldn’t back out due to his unattractiveness.

then finally at about 5 minutes past 7, a bald middle aged man in a banker’s shirt and khakis came up to me.

“hello, it’s great to see you, emily. i was worried you wouldn’t turn up!”

“hello, nice to meet you.” i said politely, and shook his hand.

“i have to go to the cash machine, but i’ll be back in about five minutes okay?”

“okay.”

i wondered if he was really going to the atm or if he thought i was unattractive and was running away.

but, no, he came back quickly.

he seem very excited.

he lead me to a pub.

“i was trying to imagine what black plaid would look like, but then i saw your sunglasses and realized that it must have been you…”

he told me about how he was a bank manager and worked for a french company and went to france all of the time. i told him about how much i liked france and wanted to go there, talked about how i liked french music and existentialism when i was in high school and françois truffaut and jane birkin and anna karina and how i had a stalker once who said i look just like chantal goya and how much i wanted to smoke gauloises…i didn’t care i guess about entertaining him like i was probably supposed to and was just thinking about the things i liked to keep my mind off of what was actually happening.

i told him about how i was studying art and design, how i made money designing websites and pamphlets and that sort of thing.

“you do look like an art student.”

it was pleasant enough i guess, it was like the feeling i got when i talked to my uncle who i see at christmas sometimes.

at the pub i told him to get me whatever cider he recommended.

i was nervous about him not having paid me right away, but i figured it was okay since we were at a pub. if he didn’t pay me here, i would just leave.

he came back to our table with a cider and a beer.

“i’ve been like really obsessed with cider since i’ve came here. like i never had it before…”

he told me the difference between lager and beer and about where he had grown up which apparently was famous for lager or something.

he asked me why i came to england.

told him about how i had always liked british music and fashion especially lately i really like alexa chung, and how i thought that people back home would be really impressed and jealous when i told them about how i had been to london.

we talked about how much we like the smiths. i thought about how in america you would never find a stuffy, middle aged banker who liked the smiths.

“do you want something else?” he asked when i had finished my cider.

“yeah, i want a mimosa, like buck’s fizz.”

we had to mix the champagne and orange juice ourselves.

after drinking a glass i finally asked, “um, do you want to pay me the first bit now?”

“yeah, certainly i do,” he said and reached into his wallet and handed me the money underneath the table.

i counted it quickly and put it in my bag.

it really was 200 pounds.

and now i had money, so now i was happy again.

since i had left my parents house i was constantly struggling with money. my first year of college i would often go two or three days in a row without eating. when i later moved to chicago i was sick with anxiety the first few days i lived there that due to an error with my bank that i was going to be thrown out into the street. i got that same panicked, anxious feeling in london when i had ripped through my suitcase and purse and hadn’t been able to find my debit card.

i thought then that not having to endure that kind of horrible stress and fear was worth whatever happened with this guy. and that i just want lots and lots of money and expensive things so i don’t ever have to be afraid of what’s going to happen to me again, no matter what i have to do to get it.

“I’m really hungry, will you buy me something to eat?” i asked.

“sure. do you want a burger, maybe? the menu’s right there.”

“i think i want fish n chips.”

“you’re going to eat fish n chips and champagne?” he laughed.

“yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

he went to the bar to order me my fish and chips.

when he sat back down we talked more about london and other general things.

somehow it got to me admitting, “you can probably tell i’ve never done anything like this before.”

“yeah. i mean the way you look and how you were so nervous when i first met you, it’s nothing like agency girls. i mean i was nervous, too…”

“how many times have you done this?”

“this is the third time. the first two times were with professional girls and i had absolutely nothing to say to them. but with you, you seem intelligent. like there’ s a lot going on behind you.”

“i’m smart at some things i guess, but not with people or at growing up. and those are the important things…”

_____

the waiter brought me my fish and chips. he was cute. i wondered if it looked to other people like i was here with my dad.

“is it supposed to be a filet?”

“yeah. it’s very traditional fish and chips. they even gave you mushy peas.”

“in america fish and chips is usually like fish sticks you know. i guess it wouldn’t be authentic…”

after eating and finishing the rest of the champagne i said, “do you wanna go?”

while walking back to his place some tween girls walking past us stopped and asked him if he could help them because they were lost. he looked up directions for them on his iphone. he was very sweet to them. i thought how surreal it was, for there to be bunch of little kids talking politely to a man who was with a prostitute. i wished i had a cigarette.

“that was nice of you, to help those kids,” i said.

_____

his place was nice. i could tell he was well off, i guess. but it also felt uncomfortably stark and lonely.

i sat down on his couch.

“do you want to pay me the rest now?”

he gave me one hundred more pounds, which i put into my bag.

we talked some more.

he asked me if i thought there was anything wrong with what we were doing, and i said that i didn’t think so.

he agreed. “we could have met at a pub. of course you might not have gone home with me then, but…”

“i was only going to do it with one guy, and you seemed like the least creepy.”

“really? only one?”

_____

i asked him about his first time, since I always ask men about that.

he told me about losing it at 17. he told me about how he had fallen in love with the girl he lost it to, and how “those feelings never really go away,” which worried me as someone who was still very much in love with the person they lost their virginity to, a year and a half ago.

we talked some more and it got around to him admitting “well, i’m seeing someone. but, i don’t know if we’re still together. she’s in south america right now, studying yoga. she hasn’t been in contact with me in a few months. i mean, people are adults, and can make their own decisions…”

there was some silence.

“listen, emily. i don’t want you to do something that you really don’t want to do. you don’t have to have sex with me, you can take the money and go.”‘

i briefly considered it.

i’m not used to people being nice to me.

“no, it’s okay. i don’t believe in stealing or whatever.”

he said he had to go into the other room for something. while he was walking away i took off my clothes and stood up.

when he came back and saw me he said, “oh, that’s beautiful. you’re really beautiful and like naturally beautiful.”

“yeah, i grew up mostly in los angeles, and there most of the girls were like fake blonde fake tan lots of make-up you know, which is cool i guess, but it was just never my thing…”

_____

i sat down on his couch and gave him a blowjob while he was standing up in front of me. i didn’t really feel disgusted or anything like i was afraid i would. it was okay.

but then he kneeled down and started to go down on me, which was really gross. i don’t like it even when a really hot guy does it. i forced myself to moan like i was enjoying it.

when he stopped i stood up.

“do you want to fuck me?”

“of course i do.” he sounded nervous. “do you have a condom? because i don’t.”

“yeah, i have one,” i said and got one from my purse.

he made some joke about how one should never look in a woman’s purse.

we went into his bedroom, and he laid down on the bed.

i handed him the condom and he put it on.

“oh, you want me to be on top, huh?”

so i did and again it was like whatever, it wasn’t gross or disturbing.

he laid there and had an erection while i moved.

“do you want to do it another way?”

“what?”

“because i just feel kind of tired.”

“well, i’ve just cum, so. good timing, i guess.”

i couldn’t believe my luck, with him being a two pump chump.

we both got dressed.

he said he would call a taxi for me.

he went to go use the phone. i sat on his couch.

“i’ve just called the taxi and it should be here in about ten minutes. can i get you anything?”

“can you get me like coffee, ‘cos i’m really tired. just black coffee, nothing in it. and toast with marmite on it, if you have it.”

he went to go make me those things.

i smoked the cigarette i saw laying on his table.

i looked in my purse at all of the money i had now.

he brought me the coffee and marmite toast on a tray, but when i grabbed the coffee cup it was so hot that i yelped and dropped it all over his white couch.

“oh god, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s okay. i’m sorry for handing you that. i didn’t realize how hot the cup was. stains can easily be washed out, but scars are forever…”

i ate my toast standing.

he gave me 50 pounds for taxi fare.

“you know, emily, don’t make a habit out of this. you seem like there’s a lot going on behind you. you don’t seem like the kind of girl to do this.”

“well i just had to, since i lost my debit card. i only planned to do this once. and, you know, no girl wants to do this, but if i had to do it i’m glad it was with you.”

“i understand, i mean especially in london, where you just seem to burn through money so fast…”

he wanted me to keep in contact with him, he said he wanted to show me london, “even though this is such a strange way to meet someone.”

i lied and said i would email him.

he talked about how strange life is. “you never know what’s going to happen from day to day. like waking up this morning i had no idea that going on that website that i hardly ever go on these days would lead to me sleeping with a 20 year old later today…”

then my taxi was here.

i kissed him on the mouth (he asked me if i minded and i said i didn’t) and hugged him and we said goodbye.

i took the taxi back to hendon central tube station.

dijous, 28 d’abril de 2011

pixies

One, two, three
She's a real left-winger 'cause she been down south
And held peasants in her arms, she said
"I could tell you stories that could make you cry. What about you?"
I said, "Me too. I could tell you a story that would make you cry."
And she sighed, "Ahh."

I said, "I want to be a singer like Lou Reed."
"I like Lou Reed," she said, sticking her tongue in my ear.
"Let's go, let's sit, let's talk, politics goes so good with beer.
"And while we're at it, baby, why don't you tell me one of your
biggest fears?"
I said, "Losing my penis to a whore with disease."
"Just kidding," I said. "Losing my life to a whore with disease."
She said, "Excuse me, please?"
I said, "Losing my life to a horrible disease."
She said, "Please."
Well, I'm a humble guy with healthy desire
Don't give me no shit because

I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired

I told the tale of a girl but I call her a woman
She's a little bit older than me
Strong legs, strong face, voice like milk, breasts like a cluster of
grapes
I can't escape her ways she raise me

She make me feel like Solomon
Beware your babies even if you have no one
And while we're at it baby, why don't you tell me one of your biggest
fears?
You don't want to sleep after setting my loins on fire
Well, that's okay because

I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
I've been tired, I've been tired, I've been tired
T-I-R-E-D spells it, spells it, spells it, spells it

dimarts, 26 d’abril de 2011

Linguists New Year resolutions

Written by Natacha Cullinan

Starting off another year - Focus Friends Starting off another year - Focus Friends lizzalou66
Foreign language students from across the UK have been writing in to let us in on their own New Year’s resolutions for 2011. Here are some of the very best ideas to improve your language skills and, best of all, they’re pretty easy to do...
1) Start your own blog
With great sites like Blogger and WordPress, with easy to use layouts and editing tools, you really don’t have much of an excuse not to...Even if it is just a post of a couple of lines, write it in your target language. Look for videos, photos, research your year abroad destination or post something about it if you’re back, speak of your favourite film/artist/singer...Have a rant, the world wide web is the best thing since sliced baguette, so make use of it. Plus it’s nice to make mistakes and have people kindly correct you, as opposed to getting marked down.

2) Become the next Trevor MacDonald
Most students read some sort of newspaper or get their news fix off the BBC’s website. What they usually don’t do is rewrite their own mini news report (or the full thing) in a foreign language. If you fancy getting into journalism, this could be a way forward. If you fancy making up news as you go along, hey, why not - just do in French/Spanish/German or whichever language you’re studying and you’ve got yourself some practice, for free. You could decide to keep them to yourself or post them up on a blog, too.

3) Follow, fan and feast your eyes on these
Yes, I might have made up a word there - but it was all in my linguistic emotional cry to the reader, by the means of alliteration. Right, so, back to where we were: social media. Twitter, Facebook and Scribd entitle you to a world of languages and communities, straight through your computer screen. You can follow your favourite language sites, such as @thirdyearabroad and Transparent Language, where you can hear about the latest news for linguists and language-lovers. Tips and hints about grammar, vocab, courses and much more at the tip of a finger. Fan pages on Facebook can prove to be really useful - why not try Erasmus. Scribd, on the other hand, lets you read up on foreign writing, from newspapers to magazines to literature. Get some followers too, if you sign up and post your very own creative musings, in English or if you’re feeling like getting some feedback on your language skills, in your target language.

4) YouTube
Ok so this could go above, but we felt like it needed its own section. The stuff you can find on here ranges from the weird, wild and plain boring, but in between, you can come across some real gems...How about searching ‘Year Abroad’ and seeing what the subscribers have come up with? Or why not follow this lovely lady, as she tells us how her own year abroad is going:



Watch and learn, kids, watch and learn.

5) Write a film, book or song review
But in your target language - you’ll learn new vocab and it doesn’t have to be essay-length, perfect. And with Amazon’s reward scheme, you might even get some vouchers out of it!

6) Read a play (and act it out)
You don’t necessarily have to do this in a group, though it can be more fun that way! Plus you’ll get to hear different accents, intonations and such like, so you’re bound to improve and help others do so in the same way. Reading and voicing out plays gives you the chance to speak more fluently, as although you won’t get as much vocabulary out of it as in a descriptive novel, you’ll get the chance to learn how the language is laid out, cut, altered and shortened orally.

7) Say or think about what you’re doing in your foreign language
How do you say ‘I’m chopping an onion and cleaning the cutting board after’ in German? ‘Washing my clothes before it starts to rain’ in Russian? These are expressions you’ll need if you’re planning on moving to another country. Getting to know vocabulary for daily tasks is pretty basic, but you’re never taught them in class. Learn as you go about your tasks, the linguistic way.

8) Model your accent on your favourite foreign actor
This is a sure-fire way of getting you to gain a better accent, and all the while by watching, rewatching and forever watching shows and movies you love. You can practise a couple of sentences each day, in the knowledge that they are also gramatically correct. Or you could alternatively follow one or two actors, and swap their accents round - say, for example, someone from the North of France compared to someone from the South:



9) Switch your computer/phone/email/google to your target language
Might seem like another silly thing to do, but it does work. Plus if you’re abroad and something breaks down on your trusted laptop, you’ll know exactly what they’re talking about when you ring for help. Google search in your foreign language will also mean that you’ll come across far more articles from your chosen country. Even if you do end up ‘wasting’ half an hour looking through the first few articles, you will have been practising all the while!

10) Get a subscription to a magazine
Fashion in French? Fast cars in Italian? Cooking recipes in Spanish? Sports in German? Or you could go for politics, the news and something more serious - it doesn’t really matter, as long as you’re reading about something that interests you in another language.

Bingo! Fluent in no time, and having fun whilst you’re learning. Read up about the best online resources for language-learners here!
http://www.thirdyearabroad.com/language-skills/item/608-language-learning-new-year