My hobby

My hobby is dancing. Dance is very popular now and a lot of people do it – from 6-year-old children to 40-year-old adults.
When you dance you only need comfortable clothes and shoes. But not all clothes match the dance style: for example, you can’t dance ballet in loose clothes – it would look really strange.
I think that my parents were my inspiration. They danced so I do that too. However, I don’t dance only one style of dance like them, I like to mix everything up.
The most difficult thing is to feel the rhythm and the style of dance. Every dance style has got its own rhythm and the way of moving.
In my opinion, dance is the best way to keep fit and be healthy. When you dance, you can relax, and dance makes you feel really happy.

My fantastic red car

I have no idea why my car describes me more than other things. I always thought that a car was an extension of man’s penis. I took it for granted. I was very surprised when my friends, especially men, bought a lot of unnecessary gadgets to their expensive cars and I was shocked when they cared more about their cars than their wives. Even two years ago I thought that I wouldn’t like to have a car, simply because twenty-five years before I had had a horrible accident and I was afraid to drive.
I was forced to start driving two years ago, when the new court was built. It was so far from my office that I had to buy a car. There were two reasons to buy it – one was that I hated taking a bus, the other was the money I spent on taxis every day.
I didn’t remember how to drive so I had to take extra lessons with a professional instructor. An average student usually takes a few extra lessons, a stupid student takes 20 lessons. I took 50 extra lessons. Imagine how driving was strange for me. When I finally was able to drive, it appeared that my husband was jealous about his car and he didn’t want to share it with me. I had 15.000 zlotys (too little to buy a good car) and I decided to buy a car myself, without any help from any men. I did it.
Now I’m an owner of a fantastic red, sports car and I’ve changed my opinion about cars. My red Hyundai is like me: unusual, a bit old and very noticeable. Like me, it never breaks down. Like me, it can work hard every day without any moaning. It is 10 years old so I don’t have to worry when I damage it a little.
Generally such a sports car is associated with young men, so when I get out of my Hyundai everybody is surprised. It is also for fast drivers so everybody smiles when they see the green leaf at its back.
I can’t imagine surviving a day without my car.

Description of a monster

Margaret from ‘Wild cats’ wrote:

This monster was a big monster. He was called Clackier. He was ten thousand years old. He was 210 centimetres long and he weighed 890 kilos. He was as big as a lorry. He had a thick coat, soft, woolly hair underneath and two very long, curved teeth. Clackier lived in a desert. He ate rocks and spiky leaves and he drank coca cola. He never attacked people. His friend was a woolly mammoth called Flafi. They liked everybody and never ate animals.

words

Humans talk. Everyday sexagintillion of words are being said. With words humans refer to their surroundings, describe their feelings, name the abstract values.
Words are better than humans. They last forever. They don’t lie. They carry the truth, irony, humour, thoughts. Strongest weapon one could ever think of.
Okay then.
Define red.
#FF0000. 625-740 nanometer long wave. Colour of blood. Colour of fire. Colour of passion. Colour of ruby.
But I’ve never seen red before! You’re talking nonsense… What’s with that numbers? Show me red, not numbers, not letters, not fire, not blood! Show me red, describe it!
Define carrot’s taste.
Well… It’s watery and juicy. It tastes sweet, yet… It somehow tastes… orange. Err…
Carrot? How could carrot taste like an orange? I don’t want an orange, I would like to feel carrot on my tongue.
Define red. Define carrot’s taste. Define hunger. Define Frank Sinatra’s voice. Define the smell of freshly cut grass. Define fear. Define love.
You can’t, Words. You can’t.
Go burn in hell.

♫ Yoko Kanno – Be human

Dancing with Grace

This year for the first time I visited London in winter. I hoped that weather would be much better than in Poland during this year’s freezes. My real reason of the trip was to see two, long awaited gigs of Grace Jones and Chaka Khan. On the day of my arrival there was no sign of the forthcoming weather crisis. The next day me and my friends went down Oxford Street, looking for some good bargains, the other day I visited Tate Modern and Museum Of Design. At the National Portrait Gallery there was an interesting exhibitions of Annie Leibovitz, a renowned photographer.
One of the most exciting moments of my trip was Grace Jonse’s gig at The Roundhouse in Camden. This was her last show of her UK tour, to promote the new album and the last one of her three shows in London. All of the shows were sold out. I was there with my friends at 7pm, and we were happy enough to have our places in the first row. The show was supported by an unknown DJ’s set, and next by a French group called Trybez, formed by Grace Jonse’s son.
The real show started at 9.30. Grace mixed the old, well known tracks with the new ones. The whole audience danced and sang with her to the songs like Libertango, My Jamaican Guy or Slave To The Rhythm. To every song she had a special outfit and hat. As she said from the stage there were some VIPs too – Brian Eno, Tricky and Philip Tracey.
At the end of the show, during Pull Up To The Bumber track, Grace invited the first two rows to the stage, to dance along with her. It was really amazing.
Confetti fell from above and everyone danced, though a little drunk English girls thought it was a New Year’s Eve. And that was the end of the show.
During the rest of my stay in London I went to some less known parts of this town, like Hapmstead or Shoreditch. On the last night I went to see Chaka Khan At Sheperds Bush Empire, but that’s another story.
The next morning I arrived at the Luton airport and discovered that all flights had been cancelled because of bad weather conditions. It seemed that the snow had paralysed the Kingdom. I bought another ticket to Rzeszow on the next day and called my long-time friend living in Luton. She was very suprised by my phone call, but said that every ocassion was good to meet, as we hadn’t seen each other for years. Then we went for a dinner full of memories and gossip.
The next day I was on the board, flying to south-east Poland.

My snap of Grace Jones performing Slave To The Rhythm