Last night, my niece and I went to the cinema to see Man on Wire and were completely blown away. You need to see this film. It is a most extraordinary tale of art, passion, faith and possibility. I guarantee it will purge you of any trace of smugness or fear, for ever. Well, for at least an hour. It certainly cleared me of both in relation to carpe-ing my diem, upping sticks and prancing off to BA for six months to brush up my tango. However, if you'd like a second opinion, you could do worse than read Peter Bradshaw's article about the film in the Guardian, Friday August 1, 2008.
Philippe Petit's coup reminded me of words I'd once come across that engraved themselves on my mind, in a speech wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandela, because he had once quoted them:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light , not our darkness, that most frightens us..."
(Our Greatest Fear by Marianne Williamson from her book A Return To Love)
Is my thought for the day. Now, put that in your banned and socially unacceptable pipe and smoke it. Be inspired. And get on with your day.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Falling into place
Aaaooooo! [Howls at moon] Things are looking up! I now have a den to hole up in as soon as I get to BsAs. It's in posh Palermo, near all the milongas, with a tango-dancing psychologist, no less - yeah baby! I get to have all my needs satisfied at once.
As I'm going to be hanging round there for a while, I want to socialise with Porteños, not be restricted to fleeting encounters with passing tourists or lost in space. She will be my gateway, my runway, my take-off into BsAs society. She'll gen me up on her city and I'll do the same for her when she visits London. We'll also be leaking languages into each other as I need to brush up my Spanish and she, her English. Right now, we can just about understand each other's emails.
It came about through good, old-fashioned social networking - she is a real friend of a real friend of a real friend, as opposed to a Fakebook acquisition or some fictional correspondent invented by a bored thirteen year old. I had been prepared to arrive there with no plans, to take a taxi to San Telmo, stop at a wi fi café and browse the net for my new home over a breakfast of chocolate con churros - that might have been tedious, rather than adventurous, when lumbered with luggage and full of sleep. Speaking of which, I need to go out now and buy myself a lightweight laptop and tri-band phone, whatever that is.
Hasta mañana, or pretty soon...
As I'm going to be hanging round there for a while, I want to socialise with Porteños, not be restricted to fleeting encounters with passing tourists or lost in space. She will be my gateway, my runway, my take-off into BsAs society. She'll gen me up on her city and I'll do the same for her when she visits London. We'll also be leaking languages into each other as I need to brush up my Spanish and she, her English. Right now, we can just about understand each other's emails.
It came about through good, old-fashioned social networking - she is a real friend of a real friend of a real friend, as opposed to a Fakebook acquisition or some fictional correspondent invented by a bored thirteen year old. I had been prepared to arrive there with no plans, to take a taxi to San Telmo, stop at a wi fi café and browse the net for my new home over a breakfast of chocolate con churros - that might have been tedious, rather than adventurous, when lumbered with luggage and full of sleep. Speaking of which, I need to go out now and buy myself a lightweight laptop and tri-band phone, whatever that is.
Hasta mañana, or pretty soon...
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