Julia > Recent Status Updates

I have a Theory about it. With age, many men come down with testosterone autism, the symptoms of which are a gradual decline in social intelligence and capacity for interpersonal communication, as well as reduced ability to formulate thoughts.

2/2 But on further reflection, I must admit the accountancy isn’t such a bad profession, and the fondness for order that’s typical for the accountant inspires my approval and total respect.

Apparently he worked at a circus, but I don’t know if he was an accountant there, or an acrobat. I prefer to think he was an acrobat, and whenever he limps, I imagine that long ago, in the beautiful 1970s, during a special act, something happened that caused his hand to miss the bar, and he fell from a height onto sawdust-sprinkled floor. 1/2

In a way, we provoke the winter too, but it ignores us, just like the rest of the world. Old eccentrics. Pathetic hippies.

2/2 I am sure this is the right way to use the language, rather than tossing about words stripped of all meaning

What a lack of imagination it is to have official 1st names and surnames. No one ever remembers them, they’re so divorced from the Person, and so banal that they don’t remind us of them at all. … That’s why I try my best never to use first names and surnames but prefer epithets that come to mind of their own accord the first time a see a Person.

Not sure quirky and noir are my thing but I’ll give it a chance

“I can’t get through to the police, it’s the Czech network again.” …

That’s what happens here. Signal wonders, with no regard for the national borders

Recommended by N.P., Polish, Nobel prize author, described in reviews as quirky. Let’s see

So much plague…

Charming (apart from the plague) but not yet catching

Brilliant reader (Amira Ghazalla)

[the Ottoman Empire] what the Russian Tsar Nikolas I had called “the sick man of Europe” - carving out its territories among themselves and facilitating the formation of countless separate states upon its lands, each speaking its own language

That was the problem with women falling out of love; the veil of romance fell away from their eyes, and they looked in and could read you.

That was part of the trouble: the fact that she would not listen, and wanted to do a good half of things her own way.

Finally, when the tart was in the oven, he’d looked at the empty glasses and replenish them with the Beaujolais and asked if they should marry. “Why don’t we marry?“ “Why don’t we?” She’d let out a sound, a type of choked laughter. “What sort of way is this of asking? It seems like you are almost making some type of argument against it.”

(A new gf at a local market) Once, he’s seen her pay 4 euros for an ordinary looking head of cabbage

(Both characters described in one phrase without anything direct)

Anything Irish, please. Thank you. And the author recommended by N.P., my new source of inspiration

(A table of meanings white vs black)

Best case: those children grow up, assimilate, get jobs and pour money into a government that forever tells them they are not British. This is not home.

2/2 viscous, random chance. And then, compounding.

It’s evident now, obvious in retrospect as the proof of root-two’s irrationality, that this world superpowers are neither infallible, nor superior. They’re nothing, not without a brutally enforced relativity. An organised, systematic brutality that their soft and sagging children can scarcely stomach - won’t even acknowledge. Yet cling to as truth. There was never any absolute, no decree from god. Just 1/2

(Bf) He leans back against the desk, hugs his arms over his chest. Says: he wishes he could be like me. Take up a soulless City job, make a metric shit ton of money. But all this – he waves an obligatory arm at the musty shelves around him – it demands more of him. There is a legacy to uphold.

(Meeting bf’s parents) But the father still has questions. With excited and unwavering eye contact he asks my opinions on everything. Love island? Cambridge? Knife crime; the BRICS; China’s investment in Africa?
The questions sound less like questions than elaborately worded treatises

Be the best. Work harder, work smarter. Exceed every expectation. But also, be invisible, imperceptible. Don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Don’t inconvenience. Exist in the negative only, the space around. Do not insert yourself into the main narrative. Go unnoticed. Become the air.

After the war, the crumbling empire sent again for the colonial subjects. Not soldiers, this time, but nurses to carry a wavering NHS on their backs. …
(Later) new laws were drawn up; our rights revoked.
Yet, some survived. … And an ethic, a mindset, a drive was established then, that persists now. A relentless, uncompromising pursuit.

This endless complying, attaining, exceeding – why?

A man’s Blackberry slipping out of his hands on to the tracks (subway station). “A toddler before the tantrum”. “A hot stream of profanity”. “He peed over the platform edge. Leaning, looking, out onto the tracks. Contemplating climbing down? Fuck, he said again. Then ran both hands back through his hair and left the platform”

But it’s there. Dread. Every day is an opportunity to fuck up. Every decision, every meeting, every report. There is no success, only the temporarily aversion of failure. Dread.

Unlike my boyfriend, I didn’t have the prerequisite connections or money to venture into politics.The financial industry was the only viable route upwards. I traded in my life for a sliver of middle-class comfort.For a future. My parents and grandparents had no such opportunities; I felt I could hardly waste mine.Yet, it didn’t sit right with me to propagate the same beliefs within the new generation of children