Hubris

I was taking some pics for my fashion blog (1)because after quite a time, I was at home when there was still some daylight. After a long long time, I managed something worth the name of self-portrait because for two seconds, the sun shone and it just happened. I admit to quite some photoshopping, though. And if I had two more seconds of sun, I'd make another shot, with symmetrical hair. Which I'll do, some other day.

I admit to being slightly obsessed with my hair. All that peroxide, oil and expensive brushes get on one's brain sooner or later.

Since I'm dabbling into art, I was reminded of something else.

Enthroned goddess from Antikensammlung Berlin: Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

One day, I'll add some better styling to such hair for more cool.
--------------------------------------
(1a) should you want me to add some verbiage in English, ask for it in the comments there.
(1b) said blog is not very serious. Just sayin'.

Gah.

I'm writing a history textbook and I'm editing another one so I'm happily immersed in various epochs finding out random interesting things. Too bad that I'm getting oxhide ingots, Standard of Ur, Piero della Francesca and John of Luxembourg mixed together into some sort of history pizza.

I have my little obsessions and quirks so just now I'm planning to insert something on Manuel Chrysoloras into the book I'm editoring and embellishing but the editor-in-chief doesn't know who this guy was so it might be a bit of challenge. I can be pushy, though, and I have a weak spot Early Renaissance and consequently, all things Florentine. Manuel Chrysoloras was invited by Coluccio Salutati, chancellor of Florence , to reside at Santa Maria degli Angeli (where the Arts Faculty of said university is now) (gah, I should finish my thesis, or, well, start the bulk of the work, for that matter) and to teach Greek, to anyone interested, I hear, and if I remember well, he was paid by the city council (gah, I should've bought the catalog of the Salutati exhibition that happened at Biblioteca di San Lorenzo a few years ago, now I'd know).
And this should be translated into Humanist Latin, incised in stone and used to hit the world leaders on their precious little heads because education is the bestest thing in the world. Well, along with knitting, indoor plumbing and sliced bread.

...

A friend works in a bookstore. BIG bookstore. She has an employee discount and an ability to search databases and stock of the actual stone stores for things. It has already proven useful when I found a rather obscure book that has been out of print for five years and she has it on her table now, waiting for the right time when we meet for a coffee.
Today I was browsing through Hartt, that big book on Italian Renaissance art where Frederick Hartt was one of the authors when said friend messaged me that today she had folks from Thames & Hudson there and that they'll be ordering books from them from time to time and that she can get them for bulk price. I eyed my well-worn beloved copy of Hartt, published by said Thames and Hudson, for which I had paid arm and leg a few years ago and just now I'm perusing their online catalog.
A thing struck me recently. There seems to be a general lack of books on Japanese art but for those damn woodprints. I care a damn about woodprints, I mean, they're pretty but there's moar. I must be doing something wrong because I doubt I'm the only person who speaks English but not Japanese but is interested in said matter.

I'd probably better be knitting.

Upon digging in the internetz, I discovered that part of what Leonard Woolley dug up in Ur ended up in Penn Museum and that there are actual books with coloured pictures of Sumerian (?) thingies. Darn, how am I supposed to write something sane about Mesopotamia when I can't get sane literature in this country? In the National Library, they have an issue of something like Acta Sumerologica. Published in Tokyo. Some of the Mesopotamian stuff is inherited in our culture, not theirs, but they do have some research and publications going on. Alright, someone gets a point for bringing said journal to the library but...

Erm, I need a new bookshelf anyway and I might get a book on Sumer, too. Just because. And the stuff is pretty.

Now I'm going to knit. For real.

Makila

The other day, I was digging for something I don't know what exactly on Fleabay. I spotted a miniature of Jean Patou's Makila. I had never heard about that one so I used uncle Google to check, found only a link to Octavian's blog... and then the miniature sold for something like 130 euros.
I thought something about idiotic collectors and half forgot about it. Some time later, I just randomly checked for Makila... and got a big bottle, around one-third full, for something like 20 euros. I never made it a secret that I'm cheap.

Makila is green. Dry and green as it can get. It should be a jasmine fragrance but having sniffed living jasmine for too long, I'd say it's more like crushed leaves of one of the Rumex species plus some dry hay. (1)

------------------------------
(1) Do you think that I've been living with too much nature?

New year

Blah, blah, world peace, blah blah.

So, I'm done with the compulsory well-wishing stuff and I can go back to incoherent whines and ranting about self, self, self, only myself. Or, not really. I'm putting some nail polish on my nails, to be exact, it's Chanel's 207 Barcelona Red, which looks rather vermilliony when freshly applied and changes to the exact shade of drying blood. I have to find the Killer Rabbit Lips lipstick to make the perfectly styled picture. I started a lame attempt for a fashion blog, by the way, but I'm not sure whether it doesn't suck, by chance. (You see? I'm superficial.)

Which leads me to the important matters: I broke my camera. I dropped it on the floor and now it's injured and not cooperating fully. No flash, borked electronics, so I'm stuck to my heaviest, bestest and most expensive lens which can be dealt with entirely manually. Pics take longer to take, they're messed up easier but when they're done well, they're done perfectly well. Since I'm at the office from dawn till dusk, not much of a problem in this season, don't expect too much colourful a content. Since I'm broke, broke to that extent that I'm not sure how I'll pay the bills, it has to wait until someday.

I was dusting the books a few days ago. This place is indeed slightly messy so I wasn't too surprised that I found a package of sleeping meds behind the Finnish-English dictionary. Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered that it's not ambien but antidepressants, some generic from the same company as my generic zolpidem, same design, different name. Since I had forgotten my psych meds in Prague and had only a few days worth, I started changing to the constantly angry and emotionally unstable older self but now I have my drugs back so I can be normal again. Did I mention that I found a new psychiatrist? Well, I did. He seems to be reasonable and rather a nice person. The bad thing is that it's two hours commute but after past experiences, I don't want a local shrink. Half of them are on my blacklist anyway, I've had quite a bit of history regarding a mental mess. (1)

Also, Tähti, with her usual regal dignity, so typical for Siamese cats, wishes for more belly rubs in 2001.



---------------------------------
(1) Should someone not be properly informed, I've been suffering from depressions on and off since I was 15 and I'm a sociophobic chickenshit even longer. It does odd and irrational things to me, generally rational and ordinate (cum grano salis) person. I however don't run around killing people, nor do I wear my (or someone else's, for that matter) underpants on my head.