Sunday, September 30, 2007

Unusual hobbies..

"So, what did you do on your vacation to Paris?"
"Oh the usual, took photos of every Van Gogh painting at the Musee d'Orsay"






I think it must be either:
1. A very tricky high tech counterfeiting ring
or
2. Preparation for the worlds longest "My vacation in Paris" slideshow.

(Then again, I'm one to talk; I take photos of tourists)

Friday, September 28, 2007

Loud exclamation of joy!

Certain people within my life have a tendency to overuse particular words. I myself confess to an overuse of "meanwhile". Others overuse words as diverse as "blah blah", "dommage" and the ever charming "neat" (you know who you are). As endearing as these might be, it is the use by a certain young man of my acquaintance of "huzzah" and other such archaic exclamations that most tickles my fancy.

Here is another place, and in a similar spirit, this word is used:

Book III. (Duodecimo), chapter 1. (Huzza Porpoise).—This is the common porpoise found almost all over the globe. The name is of my own bestowal; for there are more than one sort of porpoises, and something must be done to distinguish them. I call him thus, because he always swims in hilarious shoals, which upon the broad sea keep tossing themselves to heaven like caps in a Fourth-of-July crowd. Their appearance is generally hailed with delight by the mariner. Full of fine spirits, they invariably come from the breezy billows to windward. They are the lads that always live before the wind. They are accounted a lucky omen. If you yourself can withstand three cheers at beholding these vivacious fish, then heaven help ye; the spirit of godly gamesomeness is not in ye. A well-fed, plump Huzza Porpoise will yield you one good gallon of good oil. But the fine and delicate fluid extracted from his jaws is exceedingly valuable. It is in request among jewellers and watchmakers. Sailors put it on their hones. Porpoise meat is good eating, you know. It may never have occurred to you that a porpoise spouts. Indeed, his spout is so small that it is not very readily discernible. But the next time you have a chance, watch him; and you will then see the great Sperm whale himself in miniature.

From: Moby Dick - Herman Melville

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Best Etymology Ever

"Vaudeville"
From French vaudeville, from Old French vaudevire, a shorteningof chanson du Vau de Vire (song of the Valley of Vire), from Vire, a valley of Calvados, Normandy in France where satirical folk songs were composed by Olivier Basselin in the fifteenth century

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Relationships

Sometimes the world tries to tell you that your union is not a good idea. These people at Cimetière Monparnasse did not listen:

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Putting the P in PCF etc,

Day 2 of the Communist Party to end all communist parties looked a little like this:

These are the communists from my hood in Paris. I quite like the jogging Eiffel Tower on their logo, tres revolutionary. It's perhaps only a minor fact that the Eiffel Tower is not actually in the 13eme.



Artisinal glass blowing is inherently radical as it involves reclaiming the means of production. At least I assume that was what this was about - the man providing the running commentary had one of those regional French accents that sounds like being halfway through swallowing a large piece of sausage.




And finally the obligatory rag tag selection of nutcases playing the Internationale. Note that I actually managed to also capture a man in a beret in the shot. Authenticity oh yes.


Communist Party Parties

Some great moments at the Fête de l’Humanité:


For those who grew up reading Asterix the word 'menhir' never fails to provoke a chuckle:



This little boy was sitting on his father's shoulders clutching his racing car balloon and gggling at Iggy Pop when he came on stage and said "nous sommes les fucking Stooges". French children are definitely the bomb. Alas I have no photos of the tiny Communist children running around in their berets and Che t-shirts.





There's something rather marvellous about all of the PCF (Parti Communiste Fran
çais) tents. Each of them have a bar generally serving whatever the local liquid specialty is, a restaurant or food counter selling anything from grilled andouillette to local oysters to paella made in giant paella pans to foie gras to wild boar salami and so on through all of the regional specialties of France. It's partially this regional flavour that makes the whole affair feel so dynamic and alive but it's also the defeat of the left in the last election that seems to have shaken them all up a bit.. should be interesting to see what happens from here.

And I love this slogan:



Politics can be beautiful. I like that.

Thursday, September 13, 2007