remote cards

In the main square there are a number of installations and temporary venues as part of the Ars Electronica. The Japanese Media Festival is touring Europe, part of its contribution to Linz is a game dome here, a constant draw for people to pop in and play games. Then there is the shiny surfaced block of the 80+1 building, which has a handful of interfaces, video displays, and an information desk. Between these two structures there is a fountain and a virtual taxi round Tel Aviv and a sound installation with recordings from a Swiss tunnel. Staff flit between the pieces, with their orange shirts, with the Ars logo on the breast pocket. We pass this at various times through the weekend, every time we do there is a blonde girl loitering around. Short hair, trimmed at the back and sides, floppy on top and at front. She is always wearing a t-shirt, something sleeveless, and baggy jeans. Sometimes she has her hands in her pocket, sometimes she is standing smoking. The last time during the festival she is sat on the tunnel simulator, one arm resting on the side, the other with a cigarette in hand. She has curled tribal spiral earrings through her ears. And at another point I see her and a guy with dreads cycling the street close to the 80+1. After the festival is winding down we are still wandering round the city as it gets quieter, as they already have that shiny surface stripped down to the wooden interior. We sit in the upstairs of the kebab shop, eating a duran for lunch; I glance outside at that wooden building, a security fence round it, components on the ground. And there she is again, that blonde girl, part of the crew taking the building apart – at last, after all that waiting, she gets to demolish.

Labels: 80+1, ars electronica, blonde, girl, japanese, linz, tel aviv

Two girls wander down the street together. T-shirts, brown hair, tied back. Sunglasses propped on their heads. Shorts and flat trainers. One has purple shirt and purple socks. The other bright orange shirt and socks. They walk slowly, looking back at the man feeding the birds. He sits on the stub end of the entrance to Buchanan St Underground. Me in middle, three kids to my right, him to my left. A plastic container of chips and cheese. He flicks contributions to the pigeons, a dozen vying for scraps. Till a seagull swoops down, throwing his weight around, twice the size of any of the other birds, it snaps down the biggest portion in one bite. Two friends stop to talk to the guy, so the seagull gets bored and wanders off. But the pigeons are persistent and wait for the friends to wander off. Once he is finished eating, he puts the tray down and the pigeons fire in at every scrap of cheese, a dozen pecking enthusiastically. The boys wander off, and are replaced by a passing blonde girl. Big curls and sunglasses. A white floaty skirt. Her shoes are thick soled, clumpy. She slips them off, puts on the first sticking plaster which is already in her hand, then pulls out a couple more from her bag. Plasters in place, she continues on her way. By then, all the cheese is gone, the last half of the pigeons wander in circles waiting to see if anything else happens. The guy lights a cigarette and strolls away.

Labels: blonde, cheese, chips, glasgow, kids, man, pigeons, plasters, shoes

The ads have started in the half empty cinema hall and the lights are still on. At the front there is an aisle which separates the main seats from a couple of rows that are too close to the screen. Floating above those - a bright yellow balloon. The over familiar logo of a fast food chain clearly visible as it just hangs there. Where did it come from? I don’t recall passing it on the way in. It hangs there, all nonchalant and balloon like, before it dips self-consciously. Drifting to the floor, and wafting towards to the side of the hall, hoping to be forgotten.

Wild blonde hair, tangles of snakes. A blue dress and leopard print tights. She stamps up the cinema steps with chunky army boots as she follows her boyfriend to the back of the hall. Complaining, she wanted something, wanted to do something. Once they are sat she shucks off her hoodie, and goes back out again. Stomping again, her dress strappy, thin lines leaving shoulders bare, and a rectangle of back, with a line of hieroglyphics up her spine. Five minutes later, she comes back, stomping up the stairs with those boots again.

Labels: balloon, blonde, boots, cinema, glasgow, tattoo

Two gay guys take a seat in Starbucks in Borders with a pile of fashion/gossip magazines. They have a dolled up art school look, so that for a second I think they are punk girls. Though it is clear quick enough that they are not, though the art school suggestion might hold true. The brunette with sculpted hair is the louder of the two, the blonde content to look at the pictures and listen to the steady stream of cattiness. Though, when he does talk, his voice is low enough to be inaudible at this distance.

“Don’t Dolce & Gabbana look more like brothers than lovers?”
“I couldn’t live in America - not with a 1st lady with eyebrows like that!” With that comment I wonder what country he thinks he is actually living in rather than the Scotland he actually is.
“I just don’t get Christian Bale!”
He points at some salad shown in advert, picking out the various ingredients and what he would eat, before shifting from bitchiness to diets.

Labels: bale, bitching, blonde, brunette, christian, dolce, gabbana, gay, gossip, guys, obama