Showing posts with label We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves. Show all posts

Sunday, 18 January 2015

Sunday Summary

Happy Sunday!

Hope you've all had fabulous weeks.

This week, I have mostly been...

Reading



Taking in some art | at the Courtauld Gallery

On Friday afternoon my cultured workmate Katerina and I paid a visit to the gallery as she wanted to see the Egon Schiele exhibit (The Radical Nude) that closes today (Sunday). I knew absolutely nothing of Schiele before I went along but I think it's safe to say I've now been schooled. :-)

Self-Portrait, via here
The prodigious Schiele attended the Vienna's School of Arts and Crafts when he was sixteen, studied under Klimt, and went on to produce a prolific, if controversial, body of work before his death, age 28, in 1918. His portraits are an interesting dichotomy: to a modern-day viewer, it's perhaps of interest that the men are portrayed, primarily, as emaciated, and almost coy, while the women are more often muscular and curvaceous, and with limbs splayed.

Schiele's attention isn't always on capturing the whole body but the pertinent parts, and there is a frank appreciation of the human form in his work. Some works are of an explicit nature so for the various sensibilities of my readers I won't reproduce any here but do feel free to take a look via the links above.

I went on for a little wander around the Impressionists and early-twentieth century avant-garde artists, and found me some Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir and Degas which pleased my naive little soul. I also tripped a little over this painting:

Natalia Goncharova | The Little Station
Something about the fragmented composition (according to Wiki that's Cubo-Futurism...), and the inclusion of the station typography, caught my eye.

Walking | and hunting down...

...the perfect pair of earphones.



When it comes to choosing the perfect earphones for piping through my power tunes, I'm Goldilugs.

The earphones can't be too small, too hard, or make the music sound like it's being played through a station tannoy speaker covered in tin foil.


I've bought about four (exceptionally cheap) pairs in the last few weeks, in the vain hope that I might happen upon the one that makes Spandau Ballet sound like liquid Gold pouring into my ear'oles.

And finally, finally, I found The Ones.


Step up, TIGER's running earphones. WINNERS. These ones are just right.

Incidentally, if you ever find your energy flagging while walking, Gold will boost you. Gold will make you feel indestructible. Gold will make you believe in your soul. Yeah.


It may also make you want to punch the air in triumph at your own achievements, but I wouldn't advise that on a crowded road in Battersea. Just sayin'.


Which compels me also to share my...

Top Five Power-Walking Tunes of the Moment

Gold | Spandau Ballet
Children | Robert Miles
Titanium | David Guetta feat. Sia
Try (Cosmic Dawn Remix) | P!nk
Million Dollar Bill (Frankie Knuckles Radio Mix) | Whitney Houston

All of which make me feel a little bit like this dude:


except with ever so slightly less chest hair.

Now, my friends, kindly ready yourself for a substantial number of...

Weekly Weblinks

Literary Linkage

The man in the background (left) is judging you
for your tweeting-bird text alert and your
copy of Fifty Shades Freed

Non-literary Linkage




But it's OK because here's how to stage a chocolate revolution! And apparently Kraft don't produce Cadbury products now. The kings of plastic cheese are absolved.


And in case this was all getting just a little too serious and profound...

"IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!"
Stay warm, stay cool, my friends.

qb xx

Sunday, 11 January 2015

Sunday Summary | The 100th episode!

Happy Sunday, friends!

Excitement: this is the 100th post on The Quirky Brunette! I think that calls for a celebration, no?


The first post can be read here, if you fancy.

Before I start this post proper-like, I'd like to extend a wry gesture of thanks to my never-ever pedantic friend R, who pointed out the irony of my declaration that this year, "it's not all about me"... on a blog that is, effectively, all about me. Apologies for this indulgence but, with the exception of my grievances against all rail companies ever, this week, I'm just keeping it here so it's not on Facebook. I'm doing peeps a favour. Honest.

And on the subject of Facebook, this little film is a very interesting commentary on the 'reality' of our Facebook selves:


How much of our lives do we edit for effect?

"Ultimately, Facebook is a narcissistic playground where the best, the funniest, the most charming aspects of our lives are publicized and the sh***y stuff, the boring stuff, the beige that is most of our daily grind almost never gets posted."

Almost never, but not actually 'never'... so says the vocal, aggrieved commuter. Ahem. Sorry.

This week, I have mostly been...

Walking


Now, I'm not going to document every training walk I do between now and May (you'll be delighted to hear) but I've clocked up over 17 miles this week in my first set-of-steps towards the London 2 Brighton Challenge which I'm walking for The MS Society. Hurrah!

What is it Confucius say: "A journey of a thousand sixty-two-point-one-three-seven miles begins with a single step"? (Or was it Lao Tzu? Either way, true story.)

I did of course get somewhat Befuddled in Battersea (and not for the first time) when I took a wrong turning and ended up retracing my steps like an eejit. But hey. It meant a few more steps on the pedometer so that's nice. Plus, before I took that wrong turning I got to see this view over the river. Made me hate London about 0.02% less.


I've also upgraded my membership of MapMyWalk so I can take advantage of the live tracking function that my wise cousin Jo has been employing for years.

And, thank you to those lovely people among you who have already sponsored me; it's very much appreciated.

Reading | We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves

Confession: I've only read the first few pages. But still. Yay.



Watching | Tangled

Laughed. Cried. Had moments of forgetting it was an animation.


Yep. Pascal thinks that's ridiculous too.

Oh and this song? Just a bit marvellous.


"Strumming Mahalia with my fingers..."

Yep, that sounded less filthy in my head.

This is Mahalia:


named after this lady:


I need to work on teaching her (the red, wooden Mahalia, that is) to hold a note but she's a beauty. Very excited about learning to play her properly -- the ambition is to be playing this song by this time next year (speaking of being able to hold a note...):


Weekly Weblinks

Literary Linkage
*because he doesn't have any actual friends with whom to form a book group in person, maybe? Oh snap (!) Already there's a self-publisher on the group page, pimping their own book. No thank you, I'll pass. Now, anyone else want to share their feelings on Wide Sargasso Sea?

Non-literary Linkage
And finally...
by Pierre-Adrien Sollier | See more here

Catch you on the flipside, amigos.

qb xx