A pun on Never say never again on Gracia’s only SWP bodega (one of the proprietors claims to have known Yigael Gluckstein) may be suggesting that may be no imminent solution to the problem of bearded nutters rocketing their neighbours and then moaning about the response.
In other graffiti today, the anarchist nutters in the lovely little workmen’s cottates in c/ Amor in la Clota in the Horta riera are about to be evicted to make way for more shitty flats built to alleviate unemployment and to make people live the way Barcelona council wants them to live, so they are holding a demonstration on the 15th at 8 (we can safely assume that’s PM) at an undisclosed location:
Their propaganda is mostly a stoned rehash of 1930s anachronisms, but “greed breeds need” is quite well-timed:
Cf Sancho Panza:
Yo salí de mi tierra y dejé hijos y mujer por venir a servir a vuestra merced, creyendo valer más y no menos; pero como la cudicia rompe el saco, a mí me ha rasgado mis esperanzas.
I left my House and Home, my Wife, Children, and all to follow you, hoping to be the better for’t, and not the worse; but as Covetousness breaks the Sack, so has it broke me and my Hopes.
The squatters are in their own sweet way part of the ideological baggage of the peculiarly fucked up local state in Barcelona, so it’s nice to find more personal comment. The diagram here excludes us from imagining that the author’s mother is a lusty young thing, as opposed to simply a dick:
A whore lived here:
It’s owned by a taxi driver, so that can’t be true.
Some other squatters decorated this large abandoned villa near the top of Carmelo before and after the floors and staircases and roofs were smashed to prevent further occupation:
There was a heroin junky living sporadically in the ruined gatehouse (photo bottom) until recently:
Villa and neighbourhood at peace, from the lower stretches of the Turó de la Rovira, looking towards Collserola (the lone building is Torre Baró) and with the snowy Turó de l’Home and Matagalls in the distance:
- En pelota
Stark naked, or wearing a curious garment?
- Mole models in Cervantes
From saviour to saved to savoury: the de-/remystification of bodily imperfection.
- Catalan hunter-king meets Hungarian stag-princess
In which I suggest that a Catalan folksong about a Hungarian princess also touches on the latter country’s foundation myth.
- Did the house that Jack built come from Spain?
Or, How to cook the old lady who swallowed a fly without stooping to cannibalism. Cumulative songs (and monstrous nested stuffing recipes) in Quixote and Estebanillo González, with the grossest video you’ll see today.