Consume more and more and more and more refrigeretors.
Or The genuine Chinese torture
After the funeral at the 1st cemetery of Athens, of Mr. Nitsos who had been a publisher of the magazine “THEATRO”. After the funeral we went to a Chinese restaurant next Royal Olympic hotel, for a soup. My friend went downstairs to wash his hands. In meanwhile I have ordered for a soup, 20 E and some spicy octopus 15 E, we talk for two persons. I ask the waitress if they have Chinese bear, her answer is “NO”. So, bring whatever. The cupboard of a man, Chinese cashier or a bouncer starts calling me “PUTANA” and “Ade gamisu” (hoer. fuck you). My friend got out of the toilet and was very surprised to see that a tattooed bouncer is swearing at me. We got out and I ve smashed the window. Photo included. The Βouncer all the time screaming at me “PUTANA RUMANA”, though I have told him I am from Israel. My friend was in between us while waiting for the police. The fucker wanted to beat me. In any case when the Bouncer heard at the police station what all that costs (one night at the police station and 100 E to sew me) . When the price of window is 20 E. He calmed down. I offended the fucker “Fucking Chinese” after “putana”. And what the fuck is wrong to be Romanian? We are all fine people whatever color.
That comes to my my, oh, my? mind. Seeing some peole really nothing to loose. Sleeping on the benches and under the trees. Believe it is hard to sleep on the ground, on a marble or stone bench. My gentle limbs seem to be not constructed for that use. And cold, and uncomfortoble. And when you have nothing absolutly. So desperate. “Strange” people leading this kind of life are the most happy ones.
The question is why the fuck my ex-boyfriend threw me out? Escaping to his papa and his mama telling me “NOT DISTURB THIS WONDERFUL FAMILY?” While he wasbegging me for three months through bloody skype to come to Greece. I stopped the whole traffic of my life to come here. And who do I get? A deppressed spoiled bitch. When no he was loaded with money no depression and no mama on horizont. Viva Greek MAMAS!
Is it not bitches brew?
Frustrated, lonely little planet made out of strange brew.
Сегодня в полдень пришли два мясника к нам в античный магазин, оба крупные, тяжолые, отъевшиеся, если не сказать заплывшие жиром, с пальцами как хорошие сардельки. Всё как положенно,- кепки, усы, ешё фартук надеть с лёгкими мазками крови и в мясную. У одного мясника такой расскатистый бас, можно уписаться от смеху, голос постаревшего виннипуха. У одного из мясников такой расскатистый бас, можно уписаться от смеху, голос постаревшего виннипуха (в исполнении Леонтьева), только пожирнее, Балканского выпуска. Их пару раз спросили, мол, вам помочь, Виннипух в твидовой клетчатой кепке буркнул что-то невнятное пару раз, и пару оставили в покое. Античный магазин, – место странное и люди иногда там зависают странные, и в принципе то что они зависают и то что странные, – привычное дело.
Непонятно было кого или чего они ждут. Около двух мясники начали по-медвежьи невнятно ворчать, чем-то недовольные. Ещё через час, кто-то додумался спросить кого же они всё ж таки ждут. Оказалось они принесли принесли картины для аукциона, что находятся в джипе, а джип на стоянке, а за стоянку они платят и платят недешёво, и вообще они очень торопятся (это посл трёх-то часов ожидания?!). Виннипух, наконец-то рыкнул что надо Афендико, босса по-гречески. Бедалаги с 11.30 уже 4 часа дожидаются, что бы кто-нибудь отобрал картины для аукциона. Список готов, картины в машине. Пришёл Афендикос и начался восточный базар. Балкан – экспресс.
Далее всё происходило в греческом стиле или мясники-любители прекрасного:
– Ну, что вы господа пачему берёте только 15 кг,- берите 25 кг картин!
– Да что вы, дарагой мой гаспадин! что мы будем с 25 кг искусства делать? причём вот енти 10 кг – подделка!
Таких терпеливо нетерпеливых мясников с уклоном на культуру я ещё не встречала и довольно-таки информированных в сфере искусства, особенно о ценах, в основном о ценах. И всё-таки как не крути вкус у них мясницкий. А цены на предметы исскуства, как на мясо, – накрученные, не всем доступно. И двойнной стандарт, также как и на мясо, которе может быть представленно, как экологическое, кошерное и фабричное, так и предметы исскуства, подлинник, второсортник и подделка. Выбирай дарагой! Не облажайся. Глаз да глазанёк за этими мясниками/торговцами исскуства.
Writer Leo Tolstoy called feeling of patriotism bad and harmful that causes many disasters and it is leading to war.
In the CCCP, on the contrary, patriotism was taught with special diligence, starting from school. The Russian state became a legal successor of the Soviet course in this direction. And Crimean crisis undoubtedly actualized agenda with full throttle. Song and Dance Ensemble of the Russian Army Alexandrov , former role model of once Bolshoi Soviet style , again assumes the role of a loudspeaker of the Russian patriotism. It is this ensemble performed the song on ” polite people.” Song promises that ” we’ll be okay ,” and polite people, that are wearing “polite” helmets and even their steel machines are “polite”, “will save the honor and glory of the Motherland.” (Russian Forbes writes, more or less).
Probably we can continue that Russian tanks are polite and they will politely occupy Ukraine, in order to save. I smell some kind of complex of the Russians, they hysterically are trying to find, crystallize and present the Russian Idea well packed and digestible to the masses. It is already 23 years in all post-Soviet republics goes on a hard job on redefining identity, it is not an easy task in our drastically changing world of globalization and neo liberilism, when a rich Socialist state is gone for good. Farewell to neo liberalism, it is what it is and it can not to reach the new heights. And now there is some kind of politics of Putin “for the masses”, some of the jerks are completely excited that Russian “rotten” intelligentsia is surprised and disappointed of this turn. Tsar is turning back on them, the poor intellectuals they are the minority and of no interest. Tsar is thinking of the “simple” people. So, for the “simple” people with a background of a strong military breeding it is important to have a strong “roof” to cover them up. Well, Russian do not differ much from the other Big nations. Americans buy pink riffles to their daughters. Pro-tsarists are excited and mock Russian intelligentsia. That is not too intelligent to drive to exile (it is called the Fifth wave, starting from 1917) all that bright humans, as well to suppress arts. Bolsheviks have done something smart back then, – they gave sometime to flourish to the artists and intellectuals after the October revolution. That how the concept the style of Soviets was defined and polished then they strangled them all. Now they just continue what once was started, almost 100 years ago. In any case Russian always liked the idea of a strong “fist” that keeps them in terror. They like a fist-job. Just a bloody history repeating.
It is best described in a novel “Generation P” of Pelevin. A gangster Vovchik Maloi (Small) in Moscow of the 90s (special breed of the gangsters) ordered to a creator Tatarsky concept of Russian national idea. All that because Vovchik Maloi was upset to go abroad and not be able to proud of being Russian (Courchevel?). Creating such a concept did not work Tatarsky even with a help of the spirit of Che Guevara. The next morning Tatarsky learned that Vova Small was killed during clashes with the Chechens.
All that spiced up with a fanatical faith. I grew up in Soviets and I wonder from where all these fanatics of the age 40+ are from?! Where they were hidden? My grandmother was religious, all her children baptized (illegally), I was baptized illegally. But it did not stop her to believe in Stalin until her deathbed. She told me she was crying when Stalin died. She was not fanatical, but it was some kind of strange mish mash. I can compare it to Haiti believers, with voodoo rituals and chickens paw.
As they say, you don’t choose for motherland and religion. Is it that way still? I doubt. Wizards of images making are re-inventing Russian idea. This year they have orginized a parade for 1st of May. That is after 23 years. Why? Because it is still appeals to Russians, and it is a “simple” folk’s red letter’s day to get out with the red (oeps, tricolor) flag on the Red square and to be proud of being Russian. Sick and tired of all that national pride.
Slaves+Orthodox+Kokoshnik+Patriotic Song+Tsar+ Polite Fist
I am confused. I am politely threatened by polite gun machine hold by polite robocops.
Well, I have stolen the title from Haruki Murakami’s sixth novel. Lovely book it suits me to use its title since it is a lot on loss and abandonment, Murakami is like that.
I am burning to write about dancing and love of dancing. Yes, it is an International Day of Dance, and yes I did not manage to get to some seminars/ballet/show. The cause of me not attending all that was trivial, I did not have a bicycle and I am broke. It was rather disappointing but I hope to catch up with the seminar on Friday (I guess). In any case I have suppressed my love to this form of art for many years and suddenly all came up couple of days ago when I took absent-mindlessly a flyer somewhere in stupid shopping center. It was about Dance Limerick events and there was it, -the date of 29 April, Dancing Day. And all of a sudden I got so excited , I have realized that just by watching I can also enjoy art. I am kinda more of a doer. I like to watch and then to do it myself, whatever art it is. Poor me.
And now I have a flash back and I remember me being a little tiny ballerina and how I had my first show. I was very disappointed due to Soviet kind of fest we had to wear brown uniforms with white aprons, so frustrating. We wanted to wear those pretty little pink voile ballerinas tutu. It was very important to wear it. It was more important than the choreography and how we executing the dance. We were a bunch of little furious dancers. That I remember well, the dance was a disaster. Through years I have learned that a dancer makes the shoes and not shoes make a dancer. And only in fairy tales the Red shoes make you dance. It is hard-hard work. First comes the sweat and then the beauty (Balanchine). You become a tough girl, it needs a lot of ego swallowing, ’cause you find out slowly that prima ballerina could be just one, and sometimes it is not necessary best one. Or it is not going to be you! Just she was in the right time at the right place and got the part. A lot of factors. You learn not to give up and just continue to love your art. And to know how to dance is always cool! Dance makes music visible, – so true! Sorry for quoting Balanchine just agree 100 % with the guy. And he knew some things.
Here I am having a celebration on my own. Still I am glad that my warm feelings for dancing came upon me. I’ll go to salsa festival next week! Another 5 min of Dansu Day. Love you all crazy dancers. Make dance not war!