Clifford Skridlow

Kava a cigarettski (ceskia republika-steez)

KJP, Prague-side.


Waiting for the tram to go to the mall for cool European jeans for my girl.

KJP waiting for the #5 in East Zizkov. (The Z's are supposed to have accents, but I've yet to set up keyboard shortcuts for the Czech letters. It's pronounced Zhizhkov)


Me on the Tram...

KJP rocking the #5 tram in the wee small hours.

My absolute favorite piece of graffiti here. I've taken to scribbling it everywhere.

This is a close second...

The mall, yo.

The last few nights have revealed some doozies... Yesterday, I was in a huge and blank white room (that's been a recurring dreamtheme since I was a pollywog). I walked into a conversation between a boy from high school whose name escapes me and a very pregnant woman. The boy and I would always talk about Godfather trivia. At that time in my life, my knowledge of those movies was staggering. I'm talking about knowing their runtimes down to the second. The pregnant woman turned to me as I approached, and revealed her prosthetic arm. It was one of those off-putting clawhook dealies. She put her flesh hand on my shoulder like an old friend, and I wasn't creeped out. "Were you discussing baby names?" She nodded. I thought to myself, "Sir Jumps-a-lot." She looked at me seriously, and said "Sir Jumps-a-lot?" It blew me away, and I woke up.
I think that has something to do with a woman I passed on the street up in Letna on the north side. She was very pregnant and very blind, cane and the whole deal. She had this huge content smile as she passed from left to right in front of me. An older Czech women was walking towards me, and we were simultaneously taken aback by this woman's sheer intrepidity. The Czech woman said something in Czech to the Blind lady as she crossed the street. I'm sure it was something like, can I help you cross the street? The blind woman paid her no mind. Maybe she was deaf, too...
Last night, it was Dan Aykroyd and I in a series of wacky mis-adventures involving an indestructible Leopard-spotted woodchuck, and something involving finding a parking spot...
Kellie's been here for days, and things are great. Her Czech is coming along famously, and I hope she moves here. We went to an art store the other day, and it made me feel good, as it was the first time she seemed comfortable here. It's very humanizing to feel familiar with things you know in a context that you don't understand.
You know, Elvis was under the impression that he could break apart clouds by staring at them and willing them to disperse. Why can't I think my waiter into bringing me another double espresso? I guess that's why I am the king to nobody... (ohmygod, here he comes. I do rock, after all!)
I just checked out John Hartford's site for the first time since shortly after he died. I guess his son released a tribute album that looks pretty cool. I always like the song, Run Rabbit Run, off of the album they made together, all those years ago. He sounds so much like his dad singing... It's rare that I get upset by the news of someone dying that I didn't know personally. Hartford was one of those that truly bummed me out. He was so outside and inside, and punk because he didn't give a fuck. On Steam Powered Aeroplane, he followed on of the catchiest songs with an annoying few minutes of gruff huffing, "Hey Babe, Ya wanna boogie?" all gutterthroat.


What other passings got to me? Marcello Mastroianni, fersherr.


Definitely Stephane Grappelli


Everyone's favorite son of Krypton, Kal-El, told me that Derek Bailey died. Say it ain't so! That guy did more for my musical taste than most. He is the reason I wanted to move to Portugal. So much to say about that guy. A post for another day when I have more info on his status... bummer.


Regardless of the bad news, it was heartening to hear Kal-El's voice. He's a mountain to me.

strč prst skrz krk

Kellie will be here in 2 short days!

Sorry for the roughshod hamfist posts of late. It’s like the old joke. Two old ladies are sitting in a nursing home cafeteria. The first complains, “The food here is the worst I have ever eaten.” Yeah,” replies the second,” and the portions are so small.”


Here’s the lowdown, of late. I’ve been in the PRG for almost two months. I’ve got my own place in scenic Žižkov; Fourth Floor, No lift.
Teaching is going well. It’s easy, and I think I’m pretty good at it. Half the time, my students just want to talk, to have me correct things that don’t sound right. Sometimes they want to know how to describe carrots that have been steamed.
Constantly speaking with ESL students has severely affected the meter of my voice for the better. I speak at a tempo that, while not necessarily robotic, is more easily digestible for ears of another mother tongue. I have less of a tendency to ramble, and I always try to avoid saying 5 things, when 1 will do, as was my wont. In all honesty, it can get a little Shatnerian.
M to the W, my mate, Mark and a completely unpimpt auto!

I need to spend a day taking really tourist-y pictures, just to get it out of my system. All of my shots here have been of graffiti and my old flat-mates, and not of, oh say, Castles and cathedrals or hip art nouveau architecture.
I used to go to the Art Institute in Chicago on weekends when I was in High School, and sit for hours, trying to get De Kooning. Sometimes I went with my friend Tom Barry. Sometimes I went alone. I’d take the train, and, most when I was alone, try to adopt a don’t-sit-next-to-me demeanor. Two of my favorite movies at the time were The Killing of a Chinese Bookie and Taxi Driver. You get the picture. Walking from the train to the museum, my condition always worsened. Making a fist around my jacket across the front of my chest, I’d hunch up like James Dean in Rebel without a Cause. I still have a hard time shrugging that off that pose. It’s why all my pictures are taken sneakily or among friends… Plus, it’s a digital camera. The sound of SLR snapping, as it becomes less and less common, just seems to mean business.
Kellie’s coming in a week. I’ve been holding off on going to the big sights until she gets here. On the short list, I want to got to Kutna Hora, Prague Castle, the TV Tower… Hell, I don’t know. The zoo?
As for learning Czech, it’s hard. My students are very friendly, and one class in particular likes to teach me new words. Check this out: strč prst skrz krk. It means “stick your finger through your neck.” It goes a little like shtir-dch purr-sdt skirdtz kirk. I made them say “Three Hundred and Thirty Three Thirsty Lithuanians want drinks.” They think the “th” sound is tough. I laughed and told them I thought it was hard to pronounce “Ř”. “Zis is an easy sound to make” they said. “Just say rdzh.” “This is an easy sound “I corrected, adding “and no, it’s not.”

New Comic in the works

I'm working on a new comic with my friend, Reed. I should have some scans up in the next week or so, yo. Here's some more pics for the kids...

Kellie's coming next week!

That's a big castle...

PrahaPhoto

My Mate, Mark Wills..

All of my classmates. From LtoR, Ben, Lindsey, Angel, Philippa, & Wills.

Grafitti everywhere...

Likewise, McDonald's...

Marks, Angeledes & Wills

Welcome Yanks!

Nice and light...

The #17 Tram...

That's the TV Tower, where I live... By it, not in it...

Freestyle tags are generally weak, but I've seen some great one level stencil work...

Sorry for the slapdash post, but this connection is soooooo slow

Vomited lotii, upon which monks are to meditate

Hi kids, Sorry no posts for the last few. I'm trying to finish up my certification and find a flat. I don't care much about my place, but I don't want to buy a bed. Hopefully, I can pay month-to-month, and utilities are included, but, hey, I've always been a choosey Beggar. Love to all, and Prague Spring is on its way.