Dessert of the day (5)
Tulefell: Every evening I like to read a few pages or watch a film. Usually it’s readable / watchable stuff, but now and then you bump into a real “candy”. Cinematographically it was Fargo last time, the first two seasons. And now I’ve rediscovered Slava Se, literally. Read his pieces one at an evening, enjoying every line, savouring the flavoure, anticipating more.
A sample (the translations is, unfortunately, mine).
“A myopic person cannot see a running mouse in all the details. The normal reaction is a doubt: was there really a mouse at all or is it dust or an unfinished dream…
Even if the cabin owner clearly sees the mimic of the mouse, those tiny eyes and eyelashes, it might mean that this home-made wine is more a hallucinogen, than a well of vitamins.
Preparing a mouse trap, I feel that I’m born for a bigger purpose. That I could have written an elegant screenplay or cook bortsch, that everybody likes. But you cannot lose concentration. A mouse trap chops into ragout any prey, be it a dog’s nose or a hunter’s fingers.
Mice reproduce at speed of 1*10 in order of n-1, there n is number of months. Which means that in a year there will a hundred of milliards mice in our cabin. I’ve already killed four. You can figure out how many remain.
Same story with roe deer. In summer they walked in threes and we chased them. Yesterday, though, they came as a cohort á 60 troops strong. People locked themselves in and watched how the autumn garden was getting bare. The Bambies ate up roses with thorns, chewed up trees and now greedily looked at the barn and firewood.
… “
What do you have for dessert in the end of the day?
Mouse crumbleA sample (the translations is, unfortunately, mine).
“A myopic person cannot see a running mouse in all the details. The normal reaction is a doubt: was there really a mouse at all or is it dust or an unfinished dream…
Even if the cabin owner clearly sees the mimic of the mouse, those tiny eyes and eyelashes, it might mean that this home-made wine is more a hallucinogen, than a well of vitamins.
Preparing a mouse trap, I feel that I’m born for a bigger purpose. That I could have written an elegant screenplay or cook bortsch, that everybody likes. But you cannot lose concentration. A mouse trap chops into ragout any prey, be it a dog’s nose or a hunter’s fingers.
Mice reproduce at speed of 1*10 in order of n-1, there n is number of months. Which means that in a year there will a hundred of milliards mice in our cabin. I’ve already killed four. You can figure out how many remain.
Same story with roe deer. In summer they walked in threes and we chased them. Yesterday, though, they came as a cohort á 60 troops strong. People locked themselves in and watched how the autumn garden was getting bare. The Bambies ate up roses with thorns, chewed up trees and now greedily looked at the barn and firewood.
… “
What do you have for dessert in the end of the day?
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Bnaughty: Mouse crumble
No, no, Bambi pie
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Bambies are rather fat, tomcutty, think about your cholesterol level.
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The cupcake of the day (same source):
”
Vic is 8 years old. He’s been offered a role in a play. The role isn’t difficult: Medea’s son. In the second act, Medea is bringing out a child, that she’s killed. That will be Vic. He has to hang down decoratively, is all.
Recall the story: Jason fell in love with Glauca. In retort Medea killed the children. Couldn’t find another way to express melancholy. I think, that only a complete man and darn fool could write something like that. And it’s all that we have to know about ancient Greek Euripides.
The artist’s weight is of critical importance. Medea is not to wheeze, grunt and stumble. She is to easy bring out and show. Vic fitted ideally. He’s talented and – most significant – slim.
The director said that children’s expenditure in their theatre is just murderous. They steadily grow up. Jason, for comparison, is playing for forty years without any signs of decay. And everybody gossips about Medea that she’s real, preserved from those, yes, times. She keeps correcting the director: “It wasn’t like that.”
…”
I fell asleep laughing :D
”
Vic is 8 years old. He’s been offered a role in a play. The role isn’t difficult: Medea’s son. In the second act, Medea is bringing out a child, that she’s killed. That will be Vic. He has to hang down decoratively, is all.
Recall the story: Jason fell in love with Glauca. In retort Medea killed the children. Couldn’t find another way to express melancholy. I think, that only a complete man and darn fool could write something like that. And it’s all that we have to know about ancient Greek Euripides.
The artist’s weight is of critical importance. Medea is not to wheeze, grunt and stumble. She is to easy bring out and show. Vic fitted ideally. He’s talented and – most significant – slim.
The director said that children’s expenditure in their theatre is just murderous. They steadily grow up. Jason, for comparison, is playing for forty years without any signs of decay. And everybody gossips about Medea that she’s real, preserved from those, yes, times. She keeps correcting the director: “It wasn’t like that.”
…”
I fell asleep laughing :D
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A sample (the translations is, unfortunately, mine).
“A myopic person cannot see a running mouse in all the details. The normal reaction is a doubt: was there really a mouse at all or is it dust or an unfinished dream…
Even if the cabin owner clearly sees the mimic of the mouse, those tiny eyes and eyelashes, it might mean that this home-made wine is more a hallucinogen, than a well of vitamins.
Preparing a mouse trap, I feel that I’m born for a bigger purpose. That I could have written an elegant screenplay or cook bortsch, that everybody likes. But you cannot lose concentration. A mouse trap chops into ragout any prey, be it a dog’s nose or a hunter’s fingers.
Mice reproduce at speed of 1*10 in order of n-1, there n is number of months. Which means that in a year there will a hundred of milliards mice in our cabin. I’ve already killed four. You can figure out how many remain.
Same story with roe deer. In summer they walked in threes and we chased them. Yesterday, though, they came as a cohort á 60 troops strong. People locked themselves in and watched how the autumn garden was getting bare. The Bambies ate up roses with thorns, chewed up trees and now greedily looked at the barn and firewood.
… “
What do you have for dessert in the end of the day?