A few photos from high up in my city.

the briefest of updates

My oh my que frío hace! A cold wave has swept down from England and Germany to freeze the fingertips off all the Spaniards. Not that it wasn't cold before, just that now it's freezing. Okay, so just a degree or two above where I live, but considering the houses sit only about 5 degrees warmer than the wind chill outside, its cold!

Well I suppose this should be an about about me. Updates on my life for those who find themselves interested.

I'm currently making my own greatest hits album by Mana while I type this. It's going to be good, let me tell you! I've got to cut one song to fit it on the disk though, its like choosing between your own children.

I continue to stick my hair up in the morning with this sticky stuff and shave every other day. Though with the cold, the odds on a beard are going up if you are on your way to the local bookie.

Recently finished the best novel I have read in the last four years. Easily. It's called the shadow in the wind by a guy called Zafon. A fat book but it cut late into my nights and early into my mornings so it didn't take long to finish. My top three novels (in no particular order) are now: The Shadow of the Wind, The Brother's Karamazov and maybe the Lord of the Ring's Trilogy. Cept that's three books. As for what book just got booted out, ahh I dunno. Before I just had a top 2.

Go Bears.
Go Barça.

It's that that is all I can think of to say about myself without getting too deep into things. I'm short on time so it'll have to do for now. Maybe a more worthy post will come along in a few days, I'm off to Barcelona for a couple of days.

If I were the owner of an ancient, mysterious house...

If I were the owner of an ancient and mysterious house I would make sure it had lots of windows. But it would not be a house of glass, for these are times in which one must be careful not to be too fragile. The windows would let lots of light in, both sunlight and lightning, and not to mention the sound of the rain. And towards the center of all those eyes, there would be a large door. One that opened up very wide, to accomodate many people, coming and going.


But there would be small doors too, in various and secret places. Ones where one must stoop to walk through. Ones that would hold lots of secrets and even more stories.


There would be windows even in the corners where they were difficult to place. There would be windows, for it would cause young children to let their imaginations run wild with the shadows that were glimpsed beyond them.

Around the library I would consider having remembrances of some of the writers whose works were held inside that library. It would be to pique the children's interest in the world of books. I would have to carefully consider that however, as the heads may simply scare the children instead of inspiring wonder and fascination.


But perhaps high above the ground I would allow pets to roam, and they would guard roof terraces and keep an eye on what was happening below, in case someone would get lost in the maze that they oversaw.





A wall would surround the maze, with only a small hidden gate to let one in. The gate too, would have many stories and a few secrets.


Somewhere, a small street would run through the property, with a walkway over the top, where one could sit and read, occasionally lifting up ones eyes to watch the paserbys hurrying underneath to get out of the rain. The rain that was lashing against the many windows.



And somewhere, amidst old garden sheds, trees that are older than history, surrounded by stone walls would be a tall tower. It would stretch above everything else, overlooking what was to be overlooked. It would not have many windows. And every so often, the sound of a bell being rung would steal over the house, and it would cause all to stop what they were doing and listen. It would go on for a minute and then slowly die away in the evening light. Only every so often, with not much regularity. However the tower would only have one entrance, and that entrance would always be barred and locked. No one would know who had the key, and it would make stories rise up in the children's hearts. Stories of past deeds, past loves, past losses... Stories mixed with intrigue and wonder and perhaps a small amount of fear only if they happened to be looking at the tower as the last gleams of light dissapeared to the west.

hair

haircuts are funny things. i spent the last week planning on getting a haircut, only to wake up each morning and decide that either 1. i was having a good hairday so why get it cut, or 2. i was poor and should save the money, thus deciding each day that i would not get a haircut.

this morning i woke up and decided neither were true. so i went and got scalped.

a survey of sorts

I would like to put a few questions to those who will see this. Please respond in the comments box, even if you don't feel qualified. To any or to all of the questions. And remember, only honest responses are valid, I don't want citations from apologetic commentaries.

Do you believe in hell, and if so what is it and why/how does it exist?

What is the criterium for spending eternity with God?

What do the words grace and choice mean to you?

2005,2006,2007

Of note:

Café en España now stretches over three years. Numberwise anyways, starting in late 2005 and now having reached early 2007, there are three years to navigate! Thought it should be commemorated. Thanks for the faithfuls who have been here from the start. And for those who haven't because I suppose that is what grace is all about.

random shots of the motherland

some disrespected sign. the view from the toilet (impressive isn't it?). juli and i outside a quality door. a fence with heads on it. you can figure out which caption goes with which picture.

a pub once frequented...

Ahh the joys of Oxford. Here at the Eagle and Child I washed down a pint in honor of two fellows whose writing I much admire. One CS Lewis and another JRR Tolkien used to frequent this joint to have a pint and talk about whatever they happened to be writing about. Quite a few decades later I joined them. But sadly they had long since gone. So I enjoyed a pleasant steak and ale pie and toasted to their health which had long since given up... May they rest in peace and make lots of posthumuous royalties.