St. Paul's Bay

bastions in grand harbour

chilling in the park

freedom and flags

Graduation, pollution, and old stones

But first I have to mention this year’s graduation ceremony. Unlike ours last year, there was no rain to force us into the gym. The birds were singing, the sun giving the whole scene a warm radiance, coastal observation helicopters whirled overhead, and the memories of last year came rushing back. I got all choked up. I was admittedly a bit jealous of the conditions, but the class of ’05 deserved it. A bunch of other class of ’04 people were there. A warm fuzzy feeling indeed. I’ve seen the ceremony from pretty much all sides know; as an elementary, middle school, and high school student waiting to be part of it; as a graduating student exhibited in front of the spooky audience; and now, on the other side. The only roles left to play are as a teacher, the principal, and a guest speaker – not a worst case scenario, but getting uncomfortably close to it. Anyhow, I did get to see my first and third grade teachers there and come to terms with my own ancientness. The doleful strains from Fiddler on the Roof (Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the years…) waft through the breeze as I vanish to neutralize whatever’s eating my skin with pure malt vinegar…

The bastions

the streets of stone

Today I discovered, upon diving into the med for the first time this year, that the salt concentration has reached alarming levels. Last year the salt deposited on a typical swimmer was hardly enough to compliment a fillet of cod in a light garlic marinade with chives on the side, but now there’s enough to coat eight platters of french fries, a side of microwaved beef, nine aubergines, and a gallon of lemon juice. And not only that! There is something very sinister about this salt. As the mosquitos patrolling my hallway head towards my blood vessels, some component of the deposits make them shudder and speed away at right angles. In fact I think I better deal with it before the keratin is completely eaten away.

city gate

Summer has come! The day before the solstice the air became balmy, the temperature metamorphed from mere numbers inhabiting the object dock docklet in the lower right hand side of my screen into that special shade of the season that causes chromatin remodeling complexes to scream with horror.

Mdina, my favourite medieval city-haunt on the island, is finally being restored by handkerchief capped construction dudes which reach their annual population peak around June. Before or after that time they either enter a chrysalis stage or retreat underground where they hold ridiculously lavish parties with giant sea dwelling wood lice looking things (these suckers really exist and if anyone has a spare one, drop me a line). Anyway, the city feels like it can finally breathe again and winding through the narrow streets looking as tourist-like as possible is a great thing to do.

Grand harbour

stormy weather brewing

sittin on the dock of the bay

cliffs off marsascala

arts festival

Miscellanea

The effects of the sub-desktopian gum having dissipated, I am once more coherent enough to reenter the blogosphere. June 19^th sees the birthday of Aung San Suu Kyi. She turns 60 this Sunday. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/4096618.stm check that out for details of what she and many others face in Burma.

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Methylethyamine – a very useful liquid when it comes to reducing global warming, or so the Microsoft office assistant in the lower left-hand side of the screen tells me. The liquid absorbs carbon dioxide voraciously but heat it, and the gas is released once more. Transporting the gas to sub-ocean storage sites (where the natural muds and clays lock it in) then becomes a possibility. So the atmosphere might be spared a little. It doesn’t sound like a long term solution, but it’s out there.

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So what’s been going on, well I’ve been practicing on my didgeridoo, sleep being no barrier, paying homage to the ancient aboriginal tribes of the past and whatnot. Lurking around the island, lurking around Verdala, lurking in general. The arts festival being history and the Gaiafest joining it I have now acquired embryonic skills in the arts of extrasomatic mind control and tibetan relaxation techniques which I am developing to recruit masses of lamas to star in my future broadway musical “Dharma meets the Javanese Motorcycle Hairstylists” An ambitious project I know, but it’s worth a shot. Speaking of musicals, I’m happy to say that IUB’s next musical is in development. The producer (I think he’s the producer at least) and I are modifying the script and designing the sets. Let’s just hope that this year’s musical “Hair” didn’t deplete all the funding in the city state of Bremen. We’ll see, we’ll see.

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The gum under the desktop

Greetings readers and other forms of journal metabolizers! Once again I’m in my hallway of wonder and delight listening to the birdcalls from our neighbours aviary drift through the kitchen, knock stuff over via a cat or two, and do strange things to the disk defragmenter I have running. Today I dropped into my mother’s elementary ESL class as a visitor. Cruel woman that she is, she made her students introduce themselves in the same way I had to at that age. The psychological tremors that generated are only now being felt ~ I strive not to free my soft toys from storage, arm them with machetes and chain guns, train them in various fatal ninjitsu techniques, and let them loose upon the elementary school administrations of the world!!! Anyway, I gave them an abstract science lesson and I think I taught one how to integrate. Three of the little daemons were paying attention, two of those to my disjointed ramblings and the other to make sure he wouldn’t miss when he decided to bite my hand. Rabid little orangutan. Next time I’ll be armed with chloroform and a jetpack for a quick getaway. But it was fun. oooooooooooo! look at this! i didn't know you could do this! woohoo! ahem, sorry.

The picture doesn’t really have an explanation, since I can’t remember the circumstances surrounding it. I don’t think it had anything to do with the cheese we committed to moulder in its grave, but it could. Perhaps the duck that decided to build a nest and lay eggs outside Nikita’s window had something to do with it. It hissed at me when I tried to feed it, which it shouldn’t since I’m all nature friendly and whatnot. I think ducks now can somehow detect maltese genomes. Or maybe the collective dreams about Chupacabras and Yetis and Yerens et cetera took there toll all at once. Who knows, but it’s there anyway…damn, now I’m upset. I’ll post later maybe.