Stuck in the Pipeline

Here’s a condensation of the past days’ frantic running trying to get a reliable compatible internet connection which could somehow fit with the 6 hour lag.
Life is ironic, of course, and we must try to be gracious. In two hours we have the world premiere of Mirand’a… people seem fascinated by what it could be, but how many spectators will turn up? I dunno. The website isn’t up yet, partly because of the sheer complexity of it all, and the timelags inherent in meeting international deadlines (what is ‘tomorrow’ exactly?). But we will see. As ever, the main difference between Lumiere and Melies is the showman’s ability. Can I bluff and blag the fact that my ‘50% internet’ project is currently without internet?
Let us see. Anyway, it is auspicious that Sam Beckett is the star above the whole enterprise.

Wish me luck.

After numerous technical itches all seems to be well. Good job I brought those star-head screwdrivers to re-jig my Mac. Yesterday, all hope having been lost, I snuck into Helios to watch ‘Sunshine’… always did like whiteness. But it’s true, Danny Boyle realized that when making space sci-fi, you are stuck behind ‘2001’, ‘Solaris’ and ‘Alien’. That Cillan Murphy, though… good stuff.

Now for the previous day’s exertions:
What a to-do… apart from the usual strangeness caused by jetlag, I am also feeling an odd out-of-body sensation by being suddenly back in a town I know well, but without any of the usual contacts. Viz – I am always with my family here, and usually nominally ‘on vacation’ whereas now I am in a nice wee flat (courtesy of Rafal) and nominally ‘on business’. Anyway, having discovered that my iPod indeed does have an alarm function, and having risen at 9 a.m. (read three in the morning) I find the town deserted, very little evidence of the festival (am I in a Dennis Hopper film?) and generally nothing works (phone, computer, eyes). Still, I hope to surmount all these annoyances soon, and if you are reading this, it means I have done so. As to the pictures, cunningly imported last night, they are the usual scenes of grandeur and desolation found in airports, those places for wealthy vagrants, yes, oxymoronic as it sounds, there’s a cosmetic equality there, with huge Indian families and fresh faced backpackers mixing cheek by jowl with emigrants and business folk. Perforce stuck in the same holes, waiting, waiting. And the lovely efforts made to erect barriers, however temporary with First Class, Business Class and Coach (coach?? Is that a code for cockroach?) and even, now, in the airports themselves, little walled off areas known as ‘clubs’… downstairs, McDonalds next to Bulgari. Buy something expensive and useless for the people you don’t care about… seen as you’re stuck here anyway. Love airports. As you can see, I have been perfecting my shock-haired, wild-eyed look. Would you buy a used concept off this man? And a few signs, and the inevitable security breach (Stop photographing planes or they’ll confiscate your camera). All pretty clear, I guess. Thank you LOT.
The only question I have is, ‘What is Vladimir Putin doing in Warsaw airport?’.
Answers on a postcard, please.
Had a short, smart haircut at the Frysjer on Plac Nowy Targ – zl. 15 ($4), now I’m going to Bazylia and the student canteen zl 9 ($2.50). Profligate, moi?