worldly music

SL-WEEK 28: Imma ruin your music

My mother is many things, including a rapper. This post is dedicated to her and my cheek to put her and the spirit of Ms. Banks in the same post.

This is a test for mom to see if she can be new lunch. (ADD-IT: I found this lady online! She is NOT my mother!!)

Since this is photo challenge on the subject of music and some would argue that rap is not it, here are a few images on other kinds:

A German inquiry on a Ljubljana wall into where all the sevdah (a kind of Bosnian folk music) has gone

Mom doing Mina’s Mille bolle blu by blowing bubbles in the water. It WAS New Year’s Eve.

Mom and dad doing their dance ❤ with festive but fireworks-terrified bestia watching

And to finish, since this post won’t be winning any photo contests (for some reason I can’t train my camera to do indoor moving images right): beeeep-beeeeeeeep, alert, trigger warning, parental advisory, all you can think of. Better off, stop right here. But there is ukulele. Actually, I’m not a n(eg)ative speaker, I wouldn’t know what this is all about.

Photo: MM

For Sylvain Landry’s SL-WEEK 28: Music

Her generation

She would be ninety today. My grandmother, the mother of my father.

The cat is green. The granddaughter is the first child far and wide. Photo: BM

The man next to her – her husband and my grandfather – died today too, on her birthday, which is why after that she never celebrated it. She celebrated daily though, life, love, little things, tender mercies. This one is for her generation. It will never return, yet it will never grow old either.

And this is me channelling her with the view of her bridge over the Drava river in Maribor from her window.

Cin cin, baca Zana!

Photo: MM

SL-WEEK 23: Narrowmost

It has been known for some time that today is the day ISIS had chosen to attack Roma. For today the Jubilee Year was launched in Vatican.

No no, can’t be today, I thought. Today, as every year, is special for three other things.

This is when I jump on Sylvain’s narrow challenge. Watch me.

First, the last time I saw my friend who celebrates today, it was a narrow escape. Our bestia loves her like I do, just a little too much. 😀 Hey, Darja, happy birthday and looking forward to pouncing on you again!

 

Second is a bit related considering how much she had to listen to the Doors in her car on our way to Paris (and to me singing every note along every instrument). AND she went to see the Oliver Stone movie with me, in Paris. AND to the grave. So nice of her.

Jim Morrison was born on this day back in 1943. I chose this song because it is

cool and slow with plenty of precision
with a back beat narrow and hard to master.

Additionally, it includes one of my favourite lyrics in the world that also applies to my blogger friends. Hey, Jim.

I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft

And the third, sad event: today John Lennon was shot in New York 35 years ago. I was ten. This was the first time that I realised that the world WILL kill some people off. And not even burp.

This song begins:

I’m sick and tired of hearing things
From uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocritics
All I want is the truth
Just gimme some truth

I’ve had enough of reading things
By neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians
All I want is the truth
Just gimme some truth

And we will never know just how much truth is out there to give, and take. Hey, John. Long live truth-seekers.

Since amore works in Roma, I was a bit uneasy as today approached. And then yesterday he informed me that today is holiday in Italy! So we had a wonderful, peaceful, unexpected day off. Hail Mary and your immaculate conception. (And all calm in Roma too.)

And to bring the word narrow to its narrowest meaning, this is a photo challenge after all, here is Piran, Slovenia, and its narrowness.

Photo: MM

For Sylvain Landry’s SL-WEEK 23: Narrow

And so it’s back to my teenage room and immediately it’s the Smiths again:

I would rather not go
Back to the old house
I would rather not go
Back to the old house
There’s too many
Bad memories
Too many memories
There…

Memories are not just bad, of course, but for sure they are angsty. I’d needed many years of conversations with books before I gathered up the nerve to face the world.

This is the view from my window. Of my fir tree. It was planted when I was born, and look at it now.

Photo: MM

Well, or look at me.
We are doing all right.

The Smiths conclude:

I would love to go
Back to the old house
But I never will

I’m lucky. I am able to go. As for those teenage years, and since Morrisey will play in the city on October 10th: William (who is also a girl who lives far away and writes beautifully), it was really nothing.

1984. Big brother is watching you:

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Habit

Pearl Jam: Habit

Seen it happen to a couple of friends
See it happen and the message it sends
Taking off for what’s an obvious fall
Just to see what all the fuss is about

It’s not your way…Not your way… It’s not your way

Another habit says it’s in love with you
Another habit says its love’s overdue
Another habit like an unwanted friend
I’m so happy with my righteous self

It’s not your way…Not your way… It’s not your way

Never thought you’d habit

“A neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air. A psychotic is the man who lives in it. A psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent.” — Jerome Lawrence / “…it is the means by which we proclaim our feelings to one another, the way in which we influence others. Words can do immeasurable good and inflict terrible injuries.” —Sigmund Freud; Piran street, Slovenia.

Chocolate dreams, Ribca, Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Rum Room by Maraska, Croatia.

And even though they brag about their wines...

Fakin wines, Motovun, Istria, Croatia.

Love is in the air, Piran, Slovenia.

Photo: MM

For:

042114 cffc

Thursday Doors, August 13

Today I tried eating Italian in a town called Mengeš, Slovenia. They refused their garden to us on account of the dog. Everything else about the town was beautiful.

More in a later post but first the door. Immediately after the refusal we continued our heated stroll passing this building. It’s not quite finished but it’s got potential.

Only after I reached the spot where I’m standing here and pointed the camera at yet another turquoise door, it went through me: It’s Thursday!

Too bad this was not a restaurant, preferably Italian – dogs are welcome.

Instead it’s a shop of a leather craftsman. Will be back. Everything about this shop was a mood-lifter.

Photo: MM

And just so those searching for the band Primus won’t be disappointed (Suicidal Tendencies tag proved misleading enough), here is a reminder. Those who won’t eat pizza, shall eat pudding.

For Norm Frampton’s Thursday Doors challenge.

Próxima Estación: Esperanto

Today celebrates my sister who might be waiting for a station just like some people wait for trains. What is it going to be? I invite you to open up your eyes and see the sign, chosen from the ones below. ¿Qué pasa por la calle?

Tanti auguri and I wish you much esperanza of the kind that never dies.

WPC: The Doors are for afterwards

… when your mind is already gone, said a critic. I must say that I love both The Doors as in the band, and taking photos of various doors, especially here in Italy.

Every Thursday I post a few for Norm Frampton’s Thursday Doors challenge (here are all my entries and the featured photo is from one of them) but I liked posting doors (and windows) even before I’d learnt of it.

And before having this blog, I assembled so many Pinterest doors that I had to put them onto a dedicated board, together with arches, windows and stairs (none of these are my photos).

I embrace this opportunity to post all my recently taken doors photos for this week’s WPC so that I’ll take new ones even more gladly.

And since it’s today that Jim Morrison died in Paris 44 years ago, I will sprinkle my favourite Morrison lyrics abundantly around like you wouldn’t believe. You did ask for it. 🙂

Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks

Plant them
They will grow
Watch them waver so

I’ll always be
a word-man
Better than a birdman

Roma

I see you live on Love Street
There’s this store where the creatures meet
I wonder what they do in there
Summer Sunday and a year
I guess I like it fine, so far

Bomarzo, Monster Park, the Leaning House

We’re perched headlong on the edge of boredom
We’re reaching for death on the end of a candle
We’re trying for something
That’s already found us

Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night

Montalto di Castro

The music and voices are all around us
Choose they croon the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream come with us
Everything is broken up and dances

Montalto di Castro

Wow, I’m sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
I’m sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower. I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud

Montalto di Castro

Morning found us calmly unaware
Noon burn gold into our hair
At night, we swim the laughing sea
When summer’s gone
Where will we be

Isola del Giglio

I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft

I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant family

Photo: MM
Lyrics: Jim Morrison / The Doors

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Door.”