arty party w/e (3rd)

after a morning spent on the telephone with the banks complaining about the shit service and claiming compensation, i met emily in central london and we visited two galleries: the photographic portrait prize 2006 @ the national portrait gallery, which featured amongst others a photo by a young artist, Ljudmilla socci, who is from jesi (AN), a city 20mins away from my hometown (nice surprise!) and an art space in the middle of soho which was funded in the sixties and temporarily reopened under its original name: indica (riflemakers becomes indica). archive art-works by francois morellet, baschet brothers, carlos cruz diez and yoko ono were nostalgically exhibited and this gallery, which is in fact a house, was assidously attended by john lennon and paul mccarthy. talking of yoko ono, i am really intrigued by her last cd, a collection of diverse sounds and rhytms commissioned to an eclectic mix of artists. its title is: yes, i am a witch.

(c) ljudmilla socci

a pub with live blues music entertained us for the following two hours, until hungry and a bit tipsy (we had a few drinks at empty stomach) we opted for a japanese restaurant next to the pub. i had row tuna with rice and emi had what i call *japanese ravioli* with pork. with a full tommy, beer in my head and no intention to go back to my empty flat (steve was sleeping at friends'), i accepted emi's invite to go to brixton to meet some of her friends before heading to a house party. we went back to her place at around 5am. the journey home was smooth and quite quick (we changed two nite buses), but at that point i was really tired. the morning after emi cooked me pancake filled with honey and banana. yummy. the chinese new-year celebrations were on that afternoon, but i was too knackered to attend them. so, i regretfully stayed at home without dragons, red lanterns and lucky cakes.

that nite we had chinese take-away (our contribution to the event) and watched the king - a disturbing film about a disturbed man (interpreted by gael garcia bernal - i can't get enough). two elements of this film made me feel uncomfoprtable: the american religious fanaticism which was emphasised in the film through the dialogues and the cinematic shots and the symphatetic feeling of the viewer (me) for the king's ambiguous behaviour - or maybe i fell again into gael's trap once again?!