Sunday, April 23, 2006
Hey, I've just remembered today is Children's Day in Turkey...I still remember one such day when I was about 7 or 8 dressed in a white princess dress and joining the parade...it used to always rain on the 23rd of April, so it's not surprising it's rained today, too...Never mind. Happy children's day for the child in all of us :)
I think I am a placebo…
It’s been a, in all meanings of the word, cloudy day in London town. I really wanted to be in a big cinema, dark and warm, watching a light big screen movie, with popcorn and coca cola in hand. So, instead of walking around the Victoria Park and feeling depressed and afterwards doing some work and feeling even more depressed, I walked down the canal to the cinema in Canary Wharf.
American Dreamz was the only non-horror movie that started around the time I arrived at the cinema. I have to admit to being pleasantly surprised. It has a good script – even though it doesn’t say anything new, it says it well. It could in fact be blamed for trying to target too many things. Its characters are too obvious…but then again the obvious is usually funnier than the ‘clever’.
Perhaps the most obvious character is President Stanton who is so clearly Dubya that it hurts to watch Dennis Quaid at times…he is simply too good. The title of this blog is in fact one of his lines. When Mrs President tells him that the happy pills are placebo, he comes to the realisation that he is a placebo for a president… Such life changing realisations can only happen in films! Or are we all placebos of ourselves..ha ha ha
Finally, Hugh Grant is excellent in this film; I’d hazard, even better than in Four Weddings and A Funeral. He does the nasty, sarcastic but deep down sorry character much better than sweet and the sleazy look of his eyes is better than the puppy dog one.
I wouldn’t recommend this film for a Friday date but it’s excellent for a cloudy Sunday afternoon…and let’s face it, despite almost the end of April, we are set for more cloudy Sundays.
It’s been a, in all meanings of the word, cloudy day in London town. I really wanted to be in a big cinema, dark and warm, watching a light big screen movie, with popcorn and coca cola in hand. So, instead of walking around the Victoria Park and feeling depressed and afterwards doing some work and feeling even more depressed, I walked down the canal to the cinema in Canary Wharf.
American Dreamz was the only non-horror movie that started around the time I arrived at the cinema. I have to admit to being pleasantly surprised. It has a good script – even though it doesn’t say anything new, it says it well. It could in fact be blamed for trying to target too many things. Its characters are too obvious…but then again the obvious is usually funnier than the ‘clever’.
Perhaps the most obvious character is President Stanton who is so clearly Dubya that it hurts to watch Dennis Quaid at times…he is simply too good. The title of this blog is in fact one of his lines. When Mrs President tells him that the happy pills are placebo, he comes to the realisation that he is a placebo for a president… Such life changing realisations can only happen in films! Or are we all placebos of ourselves..ha ha ha
Finally, Hugh Grant is excellent in this film; I’d hazard, even better than in Four Weddings and A Funeral. He does the nasty, sarcastic but deep down sorry character much better than sweet and the sleazy look of his eyes is better than the puppy dog one.
I wouldn’t recommend this film for a Friday date but it’s excellent for a cloudy Sunday afternoon…and let’s face it, despite almost the end of April, we are set for more cloudy Sundays.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Oh, so many things happen….so little time to write them…
It’s been almost a month since my last entry. I can’t believe it’s been that long and….apologies to my readers who are very small in numbers but very big in support.
Trip to Morocco which was responsible for one of these four weeks was great. I’ll write about it separately (and long) in the next few days. In the meantime, here is Easter and the Babazula concert I promised to write about.
Easter – what do eggs have to do with rabbits?
It’s Easter Bank Holiday Monday, I still have the heating on…. I am pleasantly and healthily tired having spent the three of last four days walking. We hiked along part of the South Down Way.
On the first day we must have underestimated the length of the route and overestimated our fitness as after walking for about nine miles we were still just about half-way to our destination…practical people that we are, we took a taxi to Lewes! I don’t know if any of you knows but Lewes has the most fairy-tale like castle I’ve ever seen…the towers on the top are soft wave shapes instead of being angular as they normally area.
The second day, there was another taxi, this time in the morning to cut a couple of miles off at the beginning. So 6.5 miles and some rain saw us arrive at Alfriston about 2pm. I spent the afternoon reading, watching the rain and sleeping. I wont’ bore you with hotels but Dean’s Place (Best Western) in Alfriston was wonderful (http://www.alfriston-village.co.uk) – especially the single room facing the front garden I stayed in. The hotel as with the most of the rest of the village is from 15th century. Apparently the hotel is known to have a friendly ghost ‘a woman in a blue dress’….If I tell you I am reading a detective story called Devil in a Blue Dress at the moment…you can imagine how many times I woke up through the night…luckily, no lady in blue dress showed herself to me.
The third day was the hardest hike: 13 miles the last 10 of which was the Seven Sisters…Seven main and some smaller cliffs on the way to Eastborne…and at least 1.5 miles on the clean but depressing promenade of Eastborne. The day ended in Brigthon – a train ride away – and despite my previous fond memories of it, a hen / stag night nightmare of a town…or am I getting older?!
Older I surely am getting, but also fitter. The hardest hike on the third day felt much easier than the first day. I am very happy about that – despite a body aching all over. We are planning another hike for the first May Bank Holiday.
Babazula is the Daddy
The Saturday before last I was at the Babazula concert at the Carling Islington Academy. It was kind of weird…good weird – accompanied with a mad looking belly dancer who came on every now and then and a fantastic VJ who, non-stop, drew abstract figures that matched the music and lyrics on a pad that showed up on a huge screen behind the band.
The concert started with Mad Professor (professor of dub). After 2-3 songs by him, his DJ team and his West African (or so I think) dancers, members of Babazula came on stage and they all started playing together – first the percussionist (darbuka only), then the keyboards and finally Murat on saz and vocals. They were not introduced – not even lights came up as they came on stage. I really liked that “fusion”. It was meaningful about the possibilities of cooperation between seemingly very different people and purposes and it made bloody good music too.
Once all three members were on stage, they were joined by the VJ who was so impressive that friends and I just stood there listening to the music and being mesmerised by her drawings, incapable of dancing which, without the VJ, we were more likely to do.
I’d love to write more about the experience…another thoughtful choice and good organisation by Kazum (www.kazum.co.uk) but I am very tired…so I’ll finish with a sentimental note…one of their songs is ‘Babasiz Kizlar Balosu’ – ‘The Ball for Girls without Fathers’ - after which I called my Dad whose birthday it was that day. I was going to call him after the concert anyway but that very moment felt more appropriate. Music is a great thing and capable of saying things words alone fail to.
Note: ‘Baba’ in Turkish means ‘Daddy’ though am not sure what ‘Babazula’ means…
It’s been almost a month since my last entry. I can’t believe it’s been that long and….apologies to my readers who are very small in numbers but very big in support.
Trip to Morocco which was responsible for one of these four weeks was great. I’ll write about it separately (and long) in the next few days. In the meantime, here is Easter and the Babazula concert I promised to write about.
Easter – what do eggs have to do with rabbits?
It’s Easter Bank Holiday Monday, I still have the heating on…. I am pleasantly and healthily tired having spent the three of last four days walking. We hiked along part of the South Down Way.
On the first day we must have underestimated the length of the route and overestimated our fitness as after walking for about nine miles we were still just about half-way to our destination…practical people that we are, we took a taxi to Lewes! I don’t know if any of you knows but Lewes has the most fairy-tale like castle I’ve ever seen…the towers on the top are soft wave shapes instead of being angular as they normally area.
The second day, there was another taxi, this time in the morning to cut a couple of miles off at the beginning. So 6.5 miles and some rain saw us arrive at Alfriston about 2pm. I spent the afternoon reading, watching the rain and sleeping. I wont’ bore you with hotels but Dean’s Place (Best Western) in Alfriston was wonderful (http://www.alfriston-village.co.uk) – especially the single room facing the front garden I stayed in. The hotel as with the most of the rest of the village is from 15th century. Apparently the hotel is known to have a friendly ghost ‘a woman in a blue dress’….If I tell you I am reading a detective story called Devil in a Blue Dress at the moment…you can imagine how many times I woke up through the night…luckily, no lady in blue dress showed herself to me.
The third day was the hardest hike: 13 miles the last 10 of which was the Seven Sisters…Seven main and some smaller cliffs on the way to Eastborne…and at least 1.5 miles on the clean but depressing promenade of Eastborne. The day ended in Brigthon – a train ride away – and despite my previous fond memories of it, a hen / stag night nightmare of a town…or am I getting older?!
Older I surely am getting, but also fitter. The hardest hike on the third day felt much easier than the first day. I am very happy about that – despite a body aching all over. We are planning another hike for the first May Bank Holiday.
Babazula is the Daddy
The Saturday before last I was at the Babazula concert at the Carling Islington Academy. It was kind of weird…good weird – accompanied with a mad looking belly dancer who came on every now and then and a fantastic VJ who, non-stop, drew abstract figures that matched the music and lyrics on a pad that showed up on a huge screen behind the band.
The concert started with Mad Professor (professor of dub). After 2-3 songs by him, his DJ team and his West African (or so I think) dancers, members of Babazula came on stage and they all started playing together – first the percussionist (darbuka only), then the keyboards and finally Murat on saz and vocals. They were not introduced – not even lights came up as they came on stage. I really liked that “fusion”. It was meaningful about the possibilities of cooperation between seemingly very different people and purposes and it made bloody good music too.
Once all three members were on stage, they were joined by the VJ who was so impressive that friends and I just stood there listening to the music and being mesmerised by her drawings, incapable of dancing which, without the VJ, we were more likely to do.
I’d love to write more about the experience…another thoughtful choice and good organisation by Kazum (www.kazum.co.uk) but I am very tired…so I’ll finish with a sentimental note…one of their songs is ‘Babasiz Kizlar Balosu’ – ‘The Ball for Girls without Fathers’ - after which I called my Dad whose birthday it was that day. I was going to call him after the concert anyway but that very moment felt more appropriate. Music is a great thing and capable of saying things words alone fail to.
Note: ‘Baba’ in Turkish means ‘Daddy’ though am not sure what ‘Babazula’ means…
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