I rated my site with ICRA. There’s no porn and violence, but sometimes i use the word “Fuck”.
Archive for January, 2004
According to linguists, Ukrainian is supposed to be more closely related to Russian than Bulgarian — both Russian and Ukrainian are Eastern-Slavonic, while Bulgarian is Southern-Slavonic. The closeness of languages is usually explained by grammar, and indeed, the Ukrainian grammar — cases (падежи), word formation, verb tenses etc. – is nearly identical to the Russian, while the Bulgarian is considedrably different – the verb tenses are more archaic, and there are no cases at all. Despite that, when i read the Bulgarian text i understand it more easily than the Ukrainian (i am not fluent in either of these languages and i have never learnt any of them). How can it be explained?
- In the Ukrainian alphabet there are letters which are not present in Russian, such as ї, і, є; in Bulgarian, however, there are no additional letters. I know how to pronounce the “strange” Ukrainian letters, but it seems to me that on some more subconscious level they interrupt my thought.
- There seem to be more words in Bulgarian which are identical to Russian. Not similar — 100% identical. Of course it can be proven only by a thorough philological-statistical analysis, but that’s the feeling i get. The possible reason? Bulgarian is a direct descendant of Old Church Slavonic, in fact “Old Church Slavonic” is just a fancy name for “Old Bulgarian” or “Old Souther Slavonic”. Linguistically, Russian is not a descendant of Old Church Slavonic, but it was heavily influenced by it through, well, the church. Literary Ukrainian, however, is, at least in part, a fruit of political intervention that favoured non-Russian but rather Polish or dialectal Ukrainian forms when literary Ukrainian was standartized. Bulgarians, who never had to prove their national identity and uniqueness to anyone, did not need such political adjustments to their language.
The observations above are not very scientific, i never studied the subject academically. These are just “hunches”. I want to study the subject thouroughly some time in the future.
Fooled ya — no blood here. The stitches were painlessly removed from my gums on Sunday and the flesh is growing back steadily.
If you still want blood, read this for some intellectual challenge.
Snap quietly and wreck all,
But first let them know,
You’re just too nice, you won’t just surprise,
Scream in the lift so they don’t hear,
Stand quietly as you reach your floor,
Walk out, business as usual,
Eat your lunch, pay and be happy,
Then go back, snap and wreck all,
You screamed, they must know now,
Though you hope they can’t hear,
Now it’s the time to wreck all:
The cupboards, the PC’s,
The flippers on the wall,
They they they know all,
They’ve nothing to do,
They are to blame when you
Snap and wreck all,
You’re in the middle,
Not righteous, not evil,
And they’ll have no use for the flippers on the wall
The moment you snap and then wreck, wreck, wreck them all.
Strong feelings for the wrong reason,
Wrong reactions to silly decisions,
Silly musings on obvious subjects,
Punish me, please, don’t let it get worse,
I could come Sundays, but i come everyday
I’m sad to admit i don’t know the better way,
Everyone does it, i’m not better of course,
Punish me, please, don’t let it get worse…
(to be finished)
M. Stipe and M. Mills of R.E.M. perform Nightswimming (48MB MPEG video). One of my favourite songs.
Just as i finished watching it for the first time, a guy named Eli called. He saw my ad at Musicians and offered me a job as a pianist in a cover band in the mega-fabulous Herod’s hotel in Eilat. 4000 NIS after taxes + free accomodation. Not too much, but then it’s fun. Makes you think…
Random thoughts about my lost camera:
- I don’t know where i lost it. I know i had it in the bus and i think that i picked it up when i headed towards the exit, but then what? Maybe i forgot it on the seat. Maybe i put it aside when i sat down to pick the big yellow bag from the luggage compartment. Aside — where? On the pavement or maybe inside the luggage compartment? If i put in the luggage, then it should have reached the airport or the C.B.S. in Jerusalem, but the airport security didn’t hear anything about it and neither did Egged. Maybe i forgot it on the pavement. Maybe i put it on the bench of the bus stop when i waited for Hadar, then when she arrived, i was so happy to see her, that i took the two bags and forgot the camera there on the bench.
- Whoever found it — what would he do? Does he understand anything about digital photography? Would he see that there are pictures inside it? That it belongs to an actual person, that may want the camera back and make a decent effort to find the owner? Or maybe he just saw something fancy and expensive, and sold it to cover his debts?
- It is even possible that no-one actually found it — if i left it on the pavement, a car could have ran over it and that’s it.
- The Israeli Police doesn’t mean to do anything to find it; the whole lost and found department in the Police is not intended for finding lost things, but giving people documents that prove that the article was actually lost — to give the insurance company. The policewoman to whom i spoke was surprised that when i told her that i want to leave them my phone number. What for??
- Now the more philosophical part: the same morning i lost it, i was very impolite to my mom, particularly when she asked me about the camera bag. She couldn’t tell the difference between it and the discman bag. I was very bad and i’m genuinely sorry about it. I called her the next day and told her that i’m sorry, and she told me that she thinks that i’m crazy and then i told her that i lost the camera, which obviously made her sadder and more dedpressed than myself. Very awkward, but did i have a choice?
- The general feeling is “What is wrong with me?” Is there something radical about myself that i should change? Or should i just be more careful and make a better effort not to lose expensive things? The modern world of 2004 — the world of electronic gadgets and cool stylish and expensive stuff — how we should cope with it? With care, insurance and protective bags — or something more deeply moral? Afterall, we definitely don’t need these things, and how happy they make us is a tough question; the possibility of loss is never treated in the advertising and the fancy websites. Hard, hard questions. It makes my poor head all squeamous.