Recently in Personal Category

Kit·blog, this bazar of a personal web site, entered yesterday its 6^th year of (virtual? virtual?—does anybody still use that word?) existence. I have no clue how come it didn't die since September 2003, although I'm lucid enough to question its purpose and value once in a while.

In time, I found there's no ultimate purpose nor absolute value. I feed things that I like in (be that notes, photos or links), and those things may prove valuable to some of you and rubbish to the others.

And I think I kinda figured my job here: just keep bringing those things in.

Five years. And now the sixth. That's a fucking long journey actually, isn't it? Thank you for coming along.

Date: last night. Muscle: Volvo S60. Distance: 500 meters. Time: 50 minutes. Whoa, it might've been a new record, I don't know.

The rain was poring, so this time nobody abandoned cars on the boulevard, like in the good old summer times. The resemblance with the static shots from The Road to Hell video was uncanny.

A funny picture of mine is in The Times today—Arts Online section—featured in Olav Bjortomt's Blog of the Week review of Faces in Places.

Thank you Jody/PickupStix from Faces in Places, thank you Jo Carlill from The Times.

Kit·blog enters fifth year today

Will the 5th be a good year? A bad one?

Past

For almost one year at the current address (kitblog.com), previously located on my .Mac account (homepage.mac.com/cpaul/iblog), this blog approaches 1000 posts—one freaking thousand?!?—and counts over 600 self-made photos. Four years of blogging, some pretty good, some not so great and a platform change that felt more like starting over.

Thanks

Thank you for stopping by and reading this blog.

While every visit makes me feel good, still, I'm doing my best to keep this blog a little pensive and away from being a middlebrow affair. Thank you for stopping by and reading it.

Thank you for subscribing to my feed. For me, this means that you care about what I'll concoct next. Thanks.

Years don't mean much when a blog is dead. And with no comments, nor e-mails, it would be—I do appreciate each and every comment and e-mail (yes, even when I'm too busy to reply). Thank you for sparing the time to share a thought.

Future

Que Sera, Sera / Whatever will be, will be / The future's not ours, to see / Que Sera, Sera / What will be, will be.

I never thought about horses, not more than 3 minutes, anyway — even if one of the recent posts is about sidewalk riding in Moscow. Until a dear friend of mine managed to convince me to get out of the city this weekend — not an easy job, people really knowing me are probably shocked already — and go see some horses.

I started by curiosity and I ended up loving every minute of it. Better late than never, they say.

On sidewalks in downtown Moscow

Three nights walking the commercial boulevards in Moscow, three nights the horseback riders made their appearance. Girls on horses. Clip clop, clip clop, right on the sidewalks, among the passers-by. On the first night one of them asked me for money — I didn't have any money changed into local currency yet so I gave her nothing. Tough luck.

First night I was totally surprised and managed to take a shot only after they passed by.

Second night I wasn't that stupefied anymore but the light was not so great.

The third night I managed to ambush them in front of a well-lit store window.

This all leaves me with a few unanswered questions.

What the hell was that all about, riding horses on downtown Moscow's sidewalks? Are those girls walking their extra-large house-pets at night? Are they elite of tramps, the cavalry of beggars? Nobles? Is this posh leisure, green locomotion, fucking coolness, extreme-sport, fashionable eccentricity?

Sure. Every car might be a cab!

Here's the story. For four days, I've never took a taxicab in Moscow. For four days my guides used the following routine instead: raised a hand towards the cars riding on the first lane of the highway/boulevard/street and a car (often two or even three) stopped. After a very short negotiation we jumped in and we're gone. Money changed hands, relaxed chatter happened between the fronts sits (in Russian) and eventually we were delivered at the destination.

They were not cabs. They were not previously hired rides. It was all kind of paid hitch-hiking!

You can use any car as a taxi

—Hey, this is Moscow, they say. It would take 30, maybe 45 minutes for a cab to show up with these traffic jams. And who cares about taxicabs, anyway? We have our own scheme. You can use any car as a taxi. 100% efficient: no phone calls on hold, no waiting. Arm raised, cars stop. Better.

—Well, I replied, every capital has taxis and I never — not ever — seen something like this.

—Yes, but this is Moscow, they replied. This is our way.

What do you say when there's nothing to be said? What do you write about when you hate writing about anything? Do you blog in those particularly unfriendly periods when you hate blogs?

"You throw balls at me? I throw balls at you!"

People throw tags at me and — I know! — I'm too slow to play game. There's a book I would like writing about (that's another, old, old tag), but for now I'll try and put together a list of five things.

3 glorious things you might have not known about me

1. At 18 I was a programmer, writing (among other things) communication protocols for Z80/8080 processors. My first application, Telepat, was an inter-platform (8080 CP/M machines to Z80 ZX Spectrum home computers) communication software. A man needed to program his I/O ports at the lowest level, using assembly, in those times. In spite of the fact that I was drawing on every flat surface in my ecosystem, I had absolutely no plans to pursue a career in design: I could only picture myself as a programmer. In America.

2. I am more and more of a vegetarian. I gave up red meat and I eat a lot of fish instead. I still eat chicken, but slowly-slowly I'll get rid of that, too. And — God! — I was a mean, mean carnivore only a couple of years ago. People change. This things happen as a couple of friends dear to me are de-vegetarianizing in order to pursue the decadent delights of mici and sarmale (heavy, meat-rich Romanian food specialties).

3. I never smoked. My parents were smoking so I regarded it as something terribly uncool as a kid. Funny dynamics these things have — how the intergenerational conflict can sometimes work for the better. Rather rarely, but still...

Plus 2 embarrassing things you might have not known about me

4. I do not play any instrument. Not one. That sucks big time, of course — I wish I could play something: a posh piano, a heroic guitar, a cool trumpet. Hey, even playing a [insert profanity] triangle is far better than nothing. I bet it feels more academic than howling in the shower. No? Maybe not.

5. I hate trains. A gazillion rides in overcrowded trains back when I was a student got me totally fed up. Having no money for better tickets (if any) I was usually traveling standing in the aisle. And yes, it has to do with a touch of agoraphobia that I may have. That and an absolute state of terror inflicted by train toilets — all traces of bowel torment and microbes the size of small chihuahua dogs.

Here, that's all. In fact — I just realized now — the post is completely unneeded. I could simply post a link to the About section.

Despite my initial intentions, illustrated by the sub-headline quote¹, I won't throw this tag further: it seems that everybody answered already, anyway. But if you share the same or similar "tragic flows" (train-haters? triangle players?) hit the comments: I'd love to know that I'm not alone.

¹ Is quoted Bob played by Roberto Benigni in "Down by Law":http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Down_by_Law%28film%29_, a 1986 film by Jim Jarmusch.

This blog is moving to a public location at kitblog.com.

This blog enters the fourth year

At first I was puzzled: why would a reader (from Germany, it seems) write “Happy anniversary Kit” in an email addressed to me a few days ago? What was that I celebrate these days? Damn, this is what happens for not marking dates in that calendar application. I was lost. I read it twice, and then some more, unable to see past the point that separated the words, twisting the message: my reader was saying “Happy anniversary Kit.blog!” How could I possibly forgot? Thank you! This blog was about to celebrate its birthday.

It does today.

After three years of blogging I have to confess in front of you all: I'm not an easy writer. I do not write easily, that is. Not in English, anyway. And then I'm chronically dissatisfied with my writing skills.

I tell you, sometimes this blog is like a dog that doesn't want to be walked.

But I am stubborn, too.