I went through the tag and memories looking for other posts on the Romany language and none of them had replies. But none the less Im hoping someone could give me a hand. I would like to know if someone knows how to say "forever" or even "always".
I understand there are dozens of dialects. I am trying to keep from giving a huge story so to be breif; Im looking for something around the Hungarian/Romanian area. More or less Northern Vlax.
Any help is appreciated!! And thank you in advance!
Let's say -- just hypothetically -- that I'd been pondering for several months what a new novel should be about, because I want to keep writing these things, now I've started. And let's say -- entirely speculatively -- that I'd actually refined and defined a slew of "signature specifications" to the extent that I was able to start writing the new book, suddenly, last week. Let's call it The Book of Pim, but let's say absolutely nothing about it at this stage, because it's not my business to tell or yours to know, at this point, what this notional book will say or do. Let's just say one thing, though: that although the book is set in a far-off People's Republic whose real world cognate I've never been to, Manchester (a city I've only been to once) figures in it. Not the real Manchester, but the city I built in my imagination while listening to the records of Joy Division, Magazine, The Fall and The Passage. Let's watch an information film:
The man delivering this lecture about Manchester, The Fall and Mark E. Smith at an academic conference at the University of Salford is Dick Witts, an academic at the University of Edinburgh. He begins his lecture with a brilliant deconstruction of a BBC4 documentary about Manchester -- good in its way, but also typical of the reductive, revisionist and tediously "iconic" way such history gets reduced to successes, soundbites and the same old talking heads. Witts lists the 35 individual shots the documentary uses to establish its vision of Manchester in 1977, sourcing them in documentaries from 1946, 1955, 1967 and 1978, often as much about Salford and Ordsall as Manchester itself, and as much about urban regeneration as urban decay. Only 10% of the visual material, Witts shows, actually comes from the 1970s.
Witts then goes on to set the scene much better than the Factory documentary, showing a transition in 70s Manchester from Modernist glass-concrete-and-steel redevelopment to Postmodernist restoration, pedestrianisation and heritage-orientation. He also displaces the cliché about the Sex Pistols gigs at the Lesser Free Trade Hall sparking Manchester post-punk, pointing out that the experimentation of Van der Graaf Generator, the "basic" rock of The Worst, and the radical localism of the folk scene also played their part.
The lecture continues without a single mention of Witts' own group The Passage. And it's at this point that I can reveal that The Passage is the only Manchester group I still listen to, and that the vision of the city conjured in Passage songs, especially the early ones, is what's informing the book I'm now -- hypothetically -- writing. Sure, sure, The Fall is an endlessly fascinating group, and Mark E. Smith is perhaps Britain's greatest living poet. But for me, personally, Dick Witts -- the modest, acute music lecturer at the podium -- is much more important and much more fascinating. I could write a book about why my book will contain echoes (transmuted to a far eastern People's Republic) of the dark, transmuted, schematic Mancunian landscapes Witts' lyrics evoked across four Passage albums and several EPs and radio sessions. But for now I'll just write a couple of paragraphs.
The Manchester landscape of Passage songs is one of personal scenarios of love, hope and lust played out against a backdrop of politics noir, an environment poised between Blade Runner and The Threepenny Opera. This Manchester is presided over by "Mr Terror, Chief of Police", a Methodist police chief called Anderton whose motivations are religio-fascistic. Anderton is real, a policeman-puritan who claimed to take counsel directly from God and believed AIDS to be a punishment for the immorality of homosexuals. Anything that didn't contribute to Anderton's definition of "a good and useful life" was within his remit to quash. He may sound like the sacrificial Christian copper in The Wicker Man, but woe betide artists trying to pillory him in fiction: when David Britton portrayed Anderton as "Lord Horror" in a 1989 satirical graphic novel, the book was banned and Britton sent to prison for several months.
Anderton in Passage songs is described in Old Testament terms as a layer of "snares" and "traps". He plays a similar role -- authoritarian hate figure -- as The Dictator Hall plays in my own first album, The Happy Family's The Man on Your Street. Over music sinister, twinkling, thunderous, complex, modular and modern -- music which, like an operetta, keeps sweeping the same motifs into new combinations and contexts -- a series of schematic terms define life: FEAR POWER LOVE, the transition from midnight to a new dawn, fire and ice, bodies and minds, drugs illegal-forbidden and legal-compulsory, seconds, hours and days, the provinces and, beyond them, the chilly, distant capital LON DON, almost Chinese in its distant, imperial brutality.
The Passage website and above all the LTM re-releases might give you a glimpse of why this band, this man, wunderbar, ich glaube, n'est-ce pas? continue to mean so much to me. They took subversion and avant garde experimentation further than anyone else in the early 80s, and Dick Witts was simply more intelligent than any other British songwriter at the time, his wordplay more serious and more witty, his politics more radical and advanced. It's not particularly surprising that BBC documentaries (even BBC4 documentaries) gloss over The Passage, and not particularly surprising that Witts himself tends to as well. But important parts of my imagination got lit up by Witts' vision the way other people (including Witts himself) were illuminated by Morrissey or Mark E Smith, and I have a feeling that those parts are now flexing and stretching and, one day soon, will see the dawn.
"Formed over twenty years ago and having not played Austin in fifteen or so years, Danzig closed Fun Fun Fun Fest with a bang. The band that metalheads, punk rockers, and slightly ironic hipsters all love didn't disappoint anyone who stood in the rain and mud all day long. Glenn Danzig's voice - recognizable to everyone after years from The Misfits and "Mother" dive bar jukebox plays - sounded surprisingly strong as he belted out songs from Lucifuge, Danzig III, and other career defining moments. And he even, appropriately, gave a shout out to Biscuit and the Big Boys for this little monster of a fest they helped inspire." [Austin Sound]
Yes it was awesome, and it was the first time Danzig played Austin in 15 years. After the show a girl a scattered her dead friend's ashes on the stage because one of his last wishes was that his ashes be spread where Danzig had stood... supposedly a true story though I didn't see it happen. There's also supposedly a picture that will surface at some point this week.
Johnny Kelly of Type O Negative was on drums. I think the bassist was Steve Zing, who was also in Samhain. Glenn told the crowd that he and Steve used to be in a band that played an old Austin venue called Liberty Lunch. I think the guitarist was Tommy Victor of Prong. All of these guys have been in the band for a while. John Christ and Eerie Von haven't been in the band since 1995. Chuck Biscuits left one year before that.
It rained all day, but magically stopped right before Danzig. Instead of taking credit for making it stop, Glenn literally took credit for making it rain. Possibly the quote of the day: "I heard you were having a drought here, so i brought in the black clouds of Danzig." (or something like that).
More pictures from the Sunday night set in Austin, including a shot of the setlist (though he may have cut a few of the pre-Mother songs due to curfew) (which maybe could have been avoided if they didn't take so long to go on..), below...
I took 49 pics in all. Aren't you glad I didn't share most of them? I have thinky thoughts about things of importance to someone, but it's 2 am and I need to get some sleep. Maybe I'll manage to share them later. They're mostly about boundaries, hair touching (there was a near miss at the park with some woman who got the side eye from pretty much everyone else so she put her hand back down), and the reasons behind the fascination/fetishization issues some folks have with bodies of color.
A friend of mine wants to design a computerized course of English for beginners, and he needs the actual course (text, questions, exercises etc.) that he will put into the software. Do you know anyone who holds a copyright to such a course and would be willing to enter into a strategic partnership to produce and sell the learning software? Or maybe you would like to write such a course yourself. Any other advice and ideas are welcome.
Yes, its November and I'm posting a photo that I took in June. I had actually developed that roll of film in early July but I didn't scan it until about 2 hours ago.
I have a fantastic scanner. Nikon 8000. Its getting towards 10 years old but its still top of the line in terms of image quality (until you get into drum scanners which cost over $10,000). The newer version, the Nikon 9000 is quieter and faster but the quality of the images is the same. Love it.
Except its turning into a major bottleneck in my workflow.
As the Nikon is a dedicated film scanner I have to load film into a holder (either 1 or 2 strips at a time) and then load it into the scanner. It then has to examine the strip to find the breaks between the frames, before it can do a low res scan to give me previews of each frame. This can take between 5 and 15 minutes. Then I decide which frames I want to scan in at full quality. I have to repeat this process four times for each roll of film. At best it takes me 30 minutes just to look at what's on the roll of film.
Next to my desk is a stack of 50 sheets of negatives that I have yet to even look at. If I wanted to review all the film I shot for anti-war protests over the past 8 years I might have up to 100 sheets to review. You do the math.
Meanwhile all my digital shots are nearly organized by year, month, and day. With a few clicks I can open them in Adobe Bridge, get a list of thumbnails for the entire shoot, preview any specific shot at full resolution, metatag, and flag which ones I want to actually spend time editing in Photoshop. In the past I've been able to find a specific shoot from 5 years ago, select a range of photos, and email a digital contact sheet for a client within 15 minutes.
This boys and girls is why no one shoots film anymore unless they're really fucking stupid.
I know that we use the word "Timing" anyhow (and I'm fine with that), but is there a German word for it as well? I'm thinking of "comic timing" and generally of the timing in a performance, e.g. acrobatic feats, dancing, other sports or in a fight. (In dealing blows "Distanz und Timing" are crucial.)
i think this week there will be corn chowder, perhaps starting with sweet potato corn chowder.i would definitely try evaporated milk with ( this one. )
also? kirk franklin's"stomp" is really a fabu song.
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The lecture continues without a single mention of Witts' own group 
sleepy
anxious
anxious