First exhibition

of the year. It was an outside one, and one I have seen already (as it is one they resurrect every now and then). It  is also conveniently located in what is one of my favourite venues (outdoors, in a park), unfortunately as it is a pick-and-mix exhibition of various authors it has got quite a few that just make you hate the fact that somebody once wrote a piece of software called photoshop that is way too often used to create photographs that make you eyes bleed and millions of small pieces of shrapnel travel through your brain at the speed of light.

You really

can't say we all agree with the current political situation.

Hello there

After having a long break from blogging, I just had to come back. The idea kept creeping into my mind, but I somehow didn't quite manage to master the energy to do it and didn't quite know when or how to return (I know, I so totally over-think everything). You know the first few days I was thinking I should at least post a photo for each day even if I don't write any text, then I started thinking I should just start on that day when I wake up and ignore the missing bits weeks, then it all seemed so long ago, much too long... But now I got the feeling I need to come back. And this time it was not art that brought me back from hiding, but basic culture. The culture of living. Which has been quite shitty lately in this small part of the world.

Then we had  some big demonstrations. When I say big, I mean big for Slovenia, which is a small place. Good demonstrations. With people quietly stating what they think about it all. 

And the occasional joker with an idea what would make a photo opportunity in  demonstrations in which people are mainly just standing and chatting away, discussing the situation and explaining to a long lost acquaintance just how bad life has been treating them over the last few years, but then remembering also the good things in life, such as oh, yes, in the meantime I got kids and that is great, and then stumbling back to the bad things by remembering that he is  worried about their future and I and my engineering degree are currently digging trenches for cables because that was the only job I could find (and yes I so know that I have gone from the general to individual in the same sentence and that that is confusing for the reader, but that was just how my thoughts jumped and not being one to revise a blog entry, this is how you get it) ... You know the banter you have with people you haven't seen for ages, and then you bump into each other at a gathering where you are both standing up for the same cause.

 And then we moved. We all moved slowly towards the parliament (and this could have been a bit of a mistake in hindsight), where the police were waiting. And yes they were in their full protective gear, but the feeling was more that of a picnic with that ever annoying drunk relative occasionally throwing a fire cracker towards the parliament (just like any family picnic goes).

 And because the police are not allowed to bring alcohol to such gatherings they brought the herbs (which seemed a bit too hippyish for me, but hey, why not).

 And some got flowers in their buttonholes (the tailors have made a big mistake there as they didn't foresee a special little hole for flowers - you know like the new revised beetle). Of course this seemed a tad flower power to me, but hey, I will never argue when people are getting along - I mean whatever makes them tick.

And then a gang of some 50 (they say) covered up bastards rushed into the crowd and started throwing everything (and yes, they came well prepared) they had in their pockets at the police and the crowd. As someone I know very well (and who I totally believe would not be making up this) described: A guy was standing close to me, and he said into the phone. 'Ok, it is all ready. Come in now' And then a gang of what she described as highly organised covered up people rushed into the crowd, just a few meters away from me. And that was when all hell broke loose.
So, my honest opinion is: No it wasn't the protesters fault. No, it wasn't the police's fault (I know it sounds weird coming from under the fingers of somebody who does not believe in any repressive government bodies). It was the fault of a few dozen highly organised mercenaries (I have no idea what to call them, but from the description of their actions I do have a feeling that they were paid for this action, so I will use the word mercenary.) As far as I am concerned the main question is: Who paid them?

They say a picture is worth a thousand words

I dunno. I guess I could write about how good the first half hour of Estelle's concert was. Before everything that was special was just sucked out and swept underneath (I really have no idea where it went). Or I could even show you one of my photos from her concert. Ok, I guess I might as well show you one.

 
Or I could write about how I was walking around town and stumbled across this girl I had a sort of crush on almost 20 years ago (you know, a lifetime ago, so far back into the past I only remembered I used to have a crush on her when I started writing this blog) singing with her band. Or I could even post a photo of her singing - on second thought, I might save her the embarrassment.

But instead I will write, or rather post a photo of (from) something I usually don't really think about, and don't care too much about, but my, how things change, and it is not just me becoming a grumpy old man. And just so I don't go on and on explaining in how many ways I disagree with the current politicians and their policies, I will show you the photo and let you think about the rest (and for those reading this blog who are not from Slovenia: the building in the background is the Slovenian parliament, the book in the hand is a Slovenian satirical play from 1910 which deals with politics of the time and the girl holding the book is a Slovenian actress who was reading a role in this play in front of the parliament) So, here it is: