A day of Glej and Action for Culture

Started the photography part of the day with a lunchtime session with the Glej people... (or at least the ones that were not too busy working :) ) 

Then run to the Action for culture protests just to tell the world that we need to change this world before we all end up bodies outlined in chalk.

and then rushed to a tea-time opening of the Glej designers. 

Something needs to be done

with the arts in this small country with loads of dedicated artists, 

a minister of culture whose only focus seems to be his salary 

and a disproportionately large share of individuals whose sole

raison d'être seems to be writing on forums that artists

are all leches that don't deserve to live. 

(I must say that the latter make me depressed)

  (summer reading for the minister)

Bollocks to Brexit

it's a shambles

a farce

chaos

not to mention 

total and utter havoc. 

As any self respecting

inhabitant of this planet we turned at the Don't Bomb Syria protest outside Downing street.

Of course, some of the trouble makers who were desperate to bomb something, no matter where, were there and we told them what we think of them (but in the end they went and did it anyway).

 Once the protests were over some of us went to meet up with Robin Elliot

and Jack Harris (who just could't get his head round what is happening in the world today) for a bit of music to heal our souls and some inebriating substances to drown our sorrows. 

Save our NHS

 Stop the cuts

 and open your eyes, I bet you'll see the crisis 

 (why would there be so many people in the streets if there were no crisis?)

and yes, we do love our NHS.

The month of March is for marching

They want to save the NHS

 as do all of them

 and them

He would probably prefer it if NHS was not saved. 

But he wants it saved 

as does he

 and all of them. 

And they would probably also want it saved, but unfortunately they are Americans so they most likely know nothing about it (just wanted to let you know that just because I went to the demos this doesn't mean I would not also go to a concert). 

(Just in case it is not clear I also want it saved)

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?

1984

We all knew it would come. But we let the thought rattle somewhere deep down in the small hidden storage room just off centre of the labyrinth at the back of our mind. We hoped against hope that it would come some time later. That it will not affect us. Or our children (I know that was stretching it a bit). Slowly they poisoned our minds. Throwing us a bone (usually made in China) every now and then, just to keep us happy. Making us focus on what we thought was making us happy, and forget about the things that matter. The real things. Like having rights. Equal rights. Being able to express our thoughts. Or feelings (if we still had any left). Exchange ideas. And make them count. Inspire each other. Support each other.

We all knew the time would come. That we would be controlled and stripped of our rights. But how many of us realised we were living the nightmare already?
(Hats off to George Orwell)