the sourcerer: The End Of The World.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The End Of The World.

It came and it went.

Slept till late, all warm and fuzzy.

Watched six chapters of Breaking Bad.

Met some Italians for lunch at Cafe Paradiso.
(Now also part of the Madame Zingara empire, along with Cafe Mozart, The Bombay Bicycle Club, The Sidewalk Cafe, The White Rabbit Wash House, et cetera)

Accompanied my small companion to the kitchen for a spot of gingerbread baking. "Children's activities" - on the menu at ZAR45 a pop. Everything has a price, even if it is the last day of this mortal coil.
And as last days go, it was beautiful and it was balmy.

My favorite quote surrounding all of this hoo-ha is one by Sibongile Mafu: "The world is going to end and some of you will die wearing red skinny jeans and SpongeBob SquarePants t-shirts."

I spent most of the day in my pajamas.

3 comments:

Anna said...: Hey Lily
I notice you didn't say anything about the food at Cafe Paradiso??
just wondering...; May 22, 2011 at 5:12 PM
the sourcerer said...: Anna, you've caught me out.
the settings of these restaurants can't be faulted, the food sounds good on the menu, it even looks impressive. and then it's not that it's BAD, it's just never blown me away. kind of leaves me unimpressed.
great places to sit and have a few drinks, though.; May 22, 2011 at 8:53 PM
Helen said...: My Saturday night was so rubbish I almost wished the world had ended that afternoon - then I'd have been spared the experience.; May 23, 2011 at 9:06 AM

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You could tend a garden at night, only at night, pouring dark water onto leaves, and into the earth, like pouring midnight onto midnight. You could hold your soil-stained hands up to the moon. The stars would gleam on the bottom of the shovel. It would smell the same as a daytime garden - it would smell green, violet, red, white. But come back, in daylight. Come back, to see the colours without closing your eyes.
- Sean Michaels. Accompaniment to the song "Immune" by LOW. Said the Gramophone

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to."
Jim Jarmusch (1953- )

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to go was the Luxembourg gardens where you smelled and saw nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l'Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought that Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) - from A Moveable Feast.