Trouvaille

The weather outside, whenever I am outside, only forced by necessity, naturally, makes me both want to give up on life and smash something really really hard. But my life is full of micro-events that happen in the confines of my gorgeous apartment and which, sometimes, are turned into events that are pretty macro, thanks to the internet.

Like the one when my mother found out that we have solid Polish roots and are eligible in time for, well, europeanization. 

I have lost my glasses and had managed to retrieve them a week later via sheer persistence, persistence, a something I'd never be famous for. 

I have spilled a glass of merlot over a 3000-pages anthology of cultural criticism, page 993, Heidegger's lecture on language, something that upset me first but now appears to be delightfully decadent.

I am slowly becoming some sort of an expert on Italian politics, which does not prevent me thinking that I might have voted for Grillo if I had a chance. The five star movement, by the way, reads very well together with Arendt's Elements and Origins of Totalitarianism.

Pecking at a thick crust of signifiers.