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Hi,

I have nobody to impress here, and I am not writing a personal blog in English anymore. Depending on where my hobbies and/or studies take me, a more international approach might be established, until then - Latvian blog or no blog.

Not deleting anything, obv.

33.

I'm not exactly high; actually, I'm hello, as in, hella low from tripping. You can probably tell by the desperate pun construction.

No dramas, no stories. Can't decide between writing terrible stories with actual anonymity, shitposting in comment sections or just posting on 4chan, since blogs don't cut it anymore.

Fire

Note: This is a rough translation of what I originally wrote in Latvian. Writing from scratch would've been different in a better way.

I came to Tallinn on Saturday afternoon to evaluate the burnt flat, since I couldn't figure what the broker said on the phone; only that the guitars have been relocated to the living room to suffer less from the water. The owner's husband would be waiting for me.

The outside looks fine, as well as the stairwell, except for the burn marks present since January that were to be fixed in February. The doors to my hallway open up.

There's rubble, coal, ash, dust and burnt furniture everywhere. The apartment's broken doors don't serve their function, since the living room is visible through the holes in the walls. As I walk in the flat, I step over wet and dirty carpets, towels and female hygiene products (to-be flatmate had unfortunately left her stuff here already). Holes in the floor, walls and ceiling. As I read in the news, the cause of fire was a fuse box a floor below, but it seemed that all the wires in the apartment had burned - they seemed to have leaked something.

The guitars are gone. No instruments visible, except an ash covered tambourine. Everything stolen on Friday night or buried down. The beds are covered with rubble, all pictures, paintings and drawings have burned down. Both cameras are gone. I fill up a plastic bag with clothes, take my suit that stinks like soot, and leave. I leave most of the stuff at a friend's place and go sit at a cafe to drink the pain away and look for a new place to live. Luckily, before I check into a hostel, Pēteris offers me to stay at his place, since he's away for the summer.

On Sunday I come to pick up the remaining things. Most of the books are still alright, the electric teapot, dishes and flatmates' stuff as well.

On Monday I go to the police, where the owner, her husband and son are waiting for me. After a nervous hour in the waiting room, I go into the interrogation room with a list of stolen things. The total sum is 1434 euros, including: 3 guitars, Kaoss Pad 3, digital camera and Zenit. The melodica, Midi keyboard and pedal effects were left unincluded, since they were all bought used and/or cheap. Thankfully, the wooden cajon is still in Riga and unharmed.

Later on, it turns out there is a witness, who has seen (and named) three men, who drank in my flat on Friday night, as well as moving my guitars closer and closer to the door. There is a chance, that money at least could be compensated.

That concludes all I experienced and got to know.

The things that shouldn't matter

I wish I didn't like people this much, and I wish I could stay home without spending money on beer, instead of eating cheap and healthy, and wasting time on things that matter more. 2011-2012 was spent in a bar, instead of practicing instruments, instead of studying properly, instead of working, and now it all comes back - I'm ashamed to say that I play the guitar for 4,5 years now. Most of the experience has been gathered this year, because I didn't have anyone to meet on daily basis. When I started to hang out regularly, money melted even faster, and a job didn't help at all.

Pictures.

Choir camp. Drunk.

One of the many landscapes. Drunk as well, but it's less visible, since I used a tripod.

My Everything

This song made me stay up for another hour last night, because I had to dissect the band who could make something so incredible. Last time I was touched this emotionally was with Cigarette Duet.

Also, just found out how I spent way more money that I should have in the past few weeks, haha.

Numbers, letters

Time for metaphors!

So, imagine being a bus driver who has a route through a city with 20 stops, and there are people waiting to get on it in each one, and after the final stop, the bus goes on to a brighter future (another city or whatever). However, since you're a shitty driver and have some issues you can't even explain to others, instead of letting people in, you just hang out of the window and highfive the potential passengers as you pass the stops. And the trip is pretty much for nothing. That's the end of the metaphor.

**
A few hours later, I stepped outside to have a cigarette and discovered the plastic skeleton sitting in a chair on our front lawn. It was wearing my only suit, had one leg crossed over the other, and was holding a glass of red wine. (Source)

This is for the people

"i check your blog daily for new updates and would be very sad if there were no new ones over the summer,but i respect your decision either way"

***

Two out of three teachers didn't say a word during my specialization interview. It was painful to talk to the third one, because he was my favorite of all and my message was "hey, sorry, I'm leaving".

It all went downhill since then. I got home, got a headache, fell asleep, missed my bus to Riga, spend half of my remaining money to buy a new ticket for a night bus that arrives only at 3am, then I get to walk for 25 minutes with my valuables to home, then I get to wake up at 10 to meet up with potential clients, who all complain about the prices.

Gotta run.