Bad Lieutenant (2010) / Bad Lieutenant (1992)

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (2004)

Hugely enjoyable.
Chain of 'interlinked narratives'.
Races through space and time,
Skillfully interweaving a breadth of styles
and themes
into an overarching vision both
humorous and profound.

Thanks Jessie!
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Super Street Fighter IV (PS3, Xbox 360)

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Shakespeare's Twelfth Night @ Tricycle Theate (Kilburn, London)

Presented by Filter
In Association with the Royal Shakespeare Company
Directed by Sean Holmes
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Sin City: The Hard Goodbye by Frank Miller (Graphic Novel)

Iron Man 2

King by UB40

King, where are your people now ?
Chained and pacified.
Tried in vain to show them how.
And for that you died.

You had a dream of a promised land.
People of all nations walking hand in hand
But they`re not ready to accept
That dream situation, yet.

King, where are your people now ?
Chained and pacified.
Tried in vain to show them how.
And for that you died.

[Dedicated to Gaz, Pinj, Warren, Iano]
:--) Shine on!

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Waiting For The Barbarians - J.M. Coetzee

Richard Feynman (1918 - 1988)

In loving memory of Mr Arthur 'Sharky' Galanos.

Bodies hurtling through time

The underground train doors open and then close behind her. She's in the heat and rumble now. Swinging and lurching through city tunnels. Then silence. A swoosh. The train doors slide open. She's flowing out now. Up and through. Propelled along. Then daylight. Sidewalks slip by. Bodies float aside. She falls into a room. The walls hug her. The city waits outside the door. Beyond the walls. She stands in an open space. Beneath and in front of her a long carpeted stairway. Her heartbeats in the silence. Her breath echoes. A shiver passes through her body now. She twitches. Regains her composure. Up the stairs. Along the wooden passageway. To a window. A silent city scene. Filtered through glass and net curtaining. She watches. Waits. Dimly at first but steadily louder an aeroplane's roar far overhead. She imagines herself sitting in a window seat looking down at the city below. Gone. Then the room returns. The city again around her. Surrounding her. Through the window. A taxi ferries by. The driver taps on the accelerator with minute movements of leg and foot muscle. He pulls on the wheel. Leans into the turn. Pushes down steadily on the accelerator. A tunnel of city shopdoors blurs by. Cars approach from the front and disappear out the back. A red light ahead. Pedestrians cross a road. Bodies weave into and around each other. Then separate out and away again. The taxi driver watches their movements from behind his windshield. Then a pause. A flashing green light. And he's pulled ahead. Further into the maze of concrete, glass and street. Losing himself around corners. Under bridges. Over speed bumps. More traffic lights. Past city trees. Clouds glide past above. Reflected below. Dogs bark in yards. Cats scuttle low. Birds fly high.

Bodies hurtling through time.

Live Concert: Gogol Bordello at Hammersmith Apollo, London

Pauli Anjos is the boss-man! :--)

The Ghost

Thanks Kit! :--)