No breakfast in bed.

Tonight, I had my first taste of married life, the impersonal way I reach my wife as she roams the city with her friends, judging who isn’t abiding by the sacred code of suburbia. We have to wait for “the kids to go to bed”, in this case our guests have to leave before we even consider approaching each other. And they do leave, they do depart as we smile and bid our goodnights, we smile not as good hosts, our notable happy disposition is due absolutely to the fact that we are at last left in our own privacy. We sit together on the sofa expecting something to kick in, but it seems that an effort will have to be made on our part, we were foolish to rely entirely on our own animal magnetism and “chemistry”. So the story goes, absurdly insisting on something that shouldn’t be insisted upon, but after setbacks and progress and rest and resuming to what ran through our minds the entire night we had to endure listening about Ruperts safari and how his suahili always comes out offensive we embraced each other to the sound of my man toy, my elegant ipod. A Tibetan sherpa, after having healed my strained ankle once said that “a man with an ipod isn’t the same as a man without an ipod”, I keep this timeless piece of knowledge present in me at all times, I was enlightened. Carrying on, we listened to our music only to realize there was an absence of matter in our bellies, I sweetly and lovingly attended to that matter as my darling spouse took a bath, in the company of her absent mind, nothing but the sound of water pouring itself upon her. I capably managed to prepare a complex dish of scrambled eggs. We ate as we traded trivial looks contemplating the routine that had become our life. As she closed up our house for the night it was my turn to listen to that hypnotizing sound that drew my worn out body into nirvana. Bed time was getting closer and closer, I made my way into our silent haven, and took my place beside her, we laid, we resigned, we slept. The next morning, five hours later, I woke up to a lonely bed, I had forgotten her early day but still I had made the assumption a kiss would’ve been delivered. She hadn’t left, an empty bed with a cooler atmosphere seemed more appealing, understood. She got ready and the kiss was indeed delivered.

"We will always have Greece."

SMS (simple, manufactured, sublime.)

Always fair muse. You can say, kiss, flee or whisper.
You can doubt, trust, talk or be silent,
for everything you do is done with grace, and dear, to be graceful is to rule everything and all. Quick, cute and vaguely considered words, perhaps I need the very presence of the “you” to do better.

The sky's the fuckin limit baby!

Ascending to stardom.

Revealed in these impressive pictures is the upcoming star of german cinema, she has been seen in such films as “What ya doin?”, “You’re an asshole” and “Suck me beautiful”. Although she has had a clear tendency for working with underground, anarchist directors the mainstream movie industry has had an eye on her. Her look of fulfilment, discontent and joy all wrapped in one expression is simply genius, I dare say that Meryl Streep can turn out to be nothing but a memory of greatness, because Hanna Schaffer is not only a young beautiful girl, she also possesses a remarkable talent in the craft of acting and is the only woman in the world that can presently pull off the screen swaying, a skill accomplished by women such as Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn.
Critics are still in the predicament of finding something bad about this girl, they are turning around their heads attempting to discredit the graceful lady that has so capably and subtlety made her way into their admiration. Her next movie will be a project developed by Fred Curtis, the man who has managed to convince her to come round Hollywood, the vision and immense brilliance of this man combined with the aphasic, depressive nonetheless jovial presence of Hanna can quite probably write yet another page in the recently ordinary cinema history.

James Earl Ray for The Daily Sun.

Jasper can.

“You shot who in the what now?”

Probably in all of the 18 years of the show this is the best delivered line I’ve seen, I regret the fact I didn’t witness all the moments in the better known yellow family in the world, but this simple phrase said by Jasper Beardey in the opening of the seventh season is priceless, Waylon Smithers, assistant to Mr.Burns, after being falsely accused of shooting his boss comes to terms with the reality of having indeed shot a man the night of the crime. When the police escort him to Jaspers room in the retirement home, they find out that he shot a wooden prosthesis, doesn’t stop him from excusing himself for what can be considered a casual accident in certain super powers that attempt to dominate more than they are given. It is here that the old, debilitated and charismatic Jasper gives his line, in a manner known to any person who watches The Simpsons, it is also because of that detail that is so perfect in its comedy. The familiarity in what every single character is going to do next, and the way a whole show that has no objective or purpose, no continuity, just pure nonsense for twenty minutes can besides all this give a feeling of warmth and again family (something accomplished also by an English production of a family in Manchester: “Shameless” although it comes in different scales of politically incorrect scenes it is equally thrilling to watch, don’t however recommend to the weak of heart). I cant enhance sufficiently that geniality can be found in pure nonsense, I don’t mean to praise more than deserved a simple show but I give them, to whoever it may concern, the credit of being on air for 18 strapping, consistent, non stop authentic entertainement.

Grace.

I recommence our tale of erotika due to the fact that, at the moment I don’t have your compelling intro. Let us picture ourselves on a train moving towards the Greek islands. As we’re in the restaurant cart seated opposite each other sipping a magnificent 89 Cabernet Sauvignon trading sensual enticing looks as your feet gently caress my timid nonetheless receptive intimacy. A waiter with a moustache extending an inch both ways indicates that they will be closing in a short while. “Go to the room, I’ll sort this out.” The lady leaves in a provocative way whilst the gent elegantly removes his wallet from his coat. When he arrives at the opulent, graceful room fit for kings and concubines she lays across the bed with her never ending naked body, nothing but a pair of long black satin gloves she uses to cover her breasts, one leg pulled up with the other spread over the bed calling for lust. Desire, passion and synergy roam in the atmosphere as a scent, feelings transformed into matter. As he takes in this beautiful life he lives he makes his way to the placid face of his lover. She smiles and grabs his cheekbones embracing him in her frailty. The moments in the after are of an intensity too farfetched and immense to put to words. Only in actions can this be measured. An hour of leisure and enclosure awaits…