SFO crunch
Time lapse photo of departing planes at San Fransisco International Airport.
Better large.
Make Good Art
I'm sure everyone listened to the commencement address by Steve Jobs at Stanford in 2005, at least after he passed away and it was going viral. This one is different, because this is for the University of Arts in Philadelphia, by Neil Gaiman. And I'm sending it to Zsófi.
Old Man's War
I've always found the huge white space on Goodreads reserved for a review after reading a book quite daunting. Here's an attempt to fill one:
I've found this book fascinating mainly because of two things. First, it deals with those eternal questions we humans probably had ever since climbing off of trees. It's as much a philosophy book as science fiction. Neil Gaiman wrote in an essay about ideas that a great way to come up with them is to ask questions: Old Man's War has sprung from really gripping ones.
Second, the way it's been put together. It has those sentences that, once you're familiar with the context, hit so right home it's stupefying. Maybe that's literature: words strung one after another in a way they imply a world beyond. It borders magic.
There're also spaceships and aliens, of course.
Requiem for the Indifferent Tour
Tonight's real show was started by Xandria. I think they were somewhat surprised of the warm reception, being a support act and all. I for one would have gone to see them solo.
Then, Epica. I think they are still holding on to the throne of best symphonic metal act by far. Their musical mastery is only second to their humility. And Simone is breathtaking. Oh, we also got to jump around to the disco-ified The Phantom Agony again.
Mobile payment
"Starting 10 May 2012 the online ticket system of the Hungarian Railways supports mobile payment of some types of tickets along with credit and debit cards" boasts the newsletter. On the attached image a woman is holding a phone with the tagline: "Train tickets at the push of a button - now on mobile as well."
Does this mean they finally added a mobile-friendly version of the e-ticket site? Did they release an app for smartphones? Well, actually, none of the above.
This only means one thing: instead of using a card, you can enter a phone number, to which a text is sent, to which you have to reply 'ok' - at your own expense! - and then the ticket price will be added to your mobile phone bill. So much more comfortable.
Because, I'm sure, what prevented people from buying train tickets at the notoriously user-unfriendly e-ticket site of the Hungarian Railways was the fact that they didn't have a debit card.
Dear MÁV, you're doing it wrong.
Kedvenc Mindenem a Biciklim
I was shown a new route to/from work yesterday evening that takes me through a river island instead of the embankment of the Danube. No traffic or lights, just trees and the occasional jogger for five to ten minutes, depending on how much I want to hurry. Soundtrack by the birds and the pair of Vittoria Rubinos. A much welcome change offering moments of true serenity at a time when it's most needed.
Run To You
So, would you run to me?
Storm the Sorrow
Simone's the Black Swan:
Somewhat Dreamlike
It's been a while I translated anything for fun, and it was usually the other way around, from English to Hungarian, being only native in the latter. This time though I read a blogpost of Brainoiz about how foreigners might have experienced the night bus ride from the Budapest Airport to the city and I felt it would be a good idea to make it more accessible to international readers.
I hope I did the text justice.
Somewhat Dreamlike
by Viktor Juhász
They step out into the dark. Somewhere far through the dawn there must be a city but in front of the airport terminal there is only a lit up coach, the night bus.
At night every foreign land is dreadful. This too, the smells are all wrong and they cannot make sense of the signs. The bus slowly fills then starts its journey through sleeping suburbs, houses, gardens and derelict buildings, then takes a steep turn to a no man's land resembling a disused railway station and there it stops for good. The mustached man stepping out from the driver's booth keeps repeating something articulately and loudly. They take off, because everyone else takes off, then the bus leaves and they just stand there in the nondescript street of the unknown slurb, on a concrete strip adjacent to a pair of rails. By the time they get confused though another bus appears, old and battered, but this must be it, so they get on. Bungalows are replaced by dark concrete towers. At one of the stops suddenly some like a dozen thickset men in yellow visibility vests board the bus, with IDs hanging on neck straps, and tickets must be repurchased even though they have no idea what was wrong with the ones they had. 'No! No! No!' reply the controllers to every inquiry, shaking their heads and pointing animatedly while talking loudly and hoarsely to each other, in general looking quite frightening. The problem with the tickets is never revealed but in the meantime the bus arrives between tall buildings bathing in the morning light where there are people and cars in the street, so downtown does exist after all - they have really arrived to Budapest. They take off in a hurry.
Marge Akusztik
The venue's roof's actually a fishpond - lacking fish - hence the new name, Aquarium. But not once did we look up while Marge sang.
I know you still remember and I still remember you know.
I don't wanna lie anymore, it wasn't you.
But I don't know you...
Drums - Kristóf Gulyás
Bass - Áron Farkas
Guitar - Dániel Kardos
Saxophone - Dávid Ülkei
Piano & Vocals - Marge
Guest - Mc Zeek