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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.

C

PART 1

One would think my abstinence from writing means that a wonderfully marvelous 2k wordcount piece is being generated over the past two weeks, but, yeah.

Since any last entry, I've married two Ukrainian girls, drank liters of drinks and written three songs, or maybe four. Memories are fading away, so the described events are backwards or mixed up.

Today I made my first sale for the company, about 9k euros. They might forgive the past misfortunes now.

A friend asked me to accompany her with a song today, so I was listening to Imagine and thinking of why it is so popular. I've heard how The Beatles established the pop music sound*, but the first pop song doesn't mean more to me than the hundreds produced today. The lyrics are great, but otherwise, why would you care about who did it first, not who did it the best way for your needs?

Every time I mention how I don't really listen to The Beatles, someone always goes berserk on my ass, because apparently these guys are an exception to the whole "to each his own" thing. Besides, they have created a huge cult and a brand name, with bags, t-shirts, cups, re-releases etc., which is hardly different to what modern pop artists** do. It's cool and trendy to listen to Beatles, but the music is subject to individual opinions just like anything else.

VILNIUS

Saturday night we hopped on to a bus to travel for about seven hours to the heart of Lithuania. Three guys with huge bags, two tripods, stands, poles, cameras, microphones, recorders, lights, reflectors and a clapper.

I hadn't slept much before that, so the night bus seemed appealing, but that didn't work. As we arrived and settled in, the first shooting took place in the morning, in a church, that used to be a cinema. The best part of that was definitely the choir, in fact, I really want to apply for a church choir now, and I don't know if it's possible to do without any religious background.

An incomplete rundown of the other shooting places:
1. Some fancy club that used to be a cinema. Great atmosphere (at least when it was empty) with a piano on a dark stage, perfect acoustics. Daniel and I wanted to come back the next day to record some pieces on it, since we have superb sound equipment and superb piano skills. Vytautas didn't want to bother them anymore. Too bad.
2. A bar that used to be a cinema. Completely fucking empty, except for the two bartender girls, two security guys and a friend of security guys, and us, four people filming and recording sound. Music blasting on full volume, crazy lights illuminating colorful dots around the place and the only features actually in use were the smoking room and toilets.
3. A room in a church, run by an impolite priest, that used to be a cinema, now offers some private screenings, as far as I understood. There was a piano with some text written in chalk on the side, the priest forbid us to film that.

[Information lost]

*Please don't kill me for my abstractly approximate knowledge of music genres, never cared to learn the names and history of that.
**Because you are an artist if you preform songs written by others, just like you are the chef when you bring the food from kitchen to the table)

PART 2

The following is an approximate translation from an entry originally written for the other blog.

I found a new Where Is My Mind cover.

How to describe the loneliness without whining?

Right now I'm drinking coke from yesterdays party, smoking my shitty cigarettes and not working, because I'm tired as fuck. Can't sleep as well, because I forgot to do the laundry and now an hour has to be spent awake. There's a feeling that others are tired of me again. Started to write a song, almost decent lyrics, but melody can go fuck itself, and the chords can go fuck themselves and my fingers can go fuck themselves.

A reminder that this song exists.

Shit, gotta make a list with the songs that I try to advertise for others, because they're awesome, but nobody else likes them, and then I'm sitting home and my heart is pounding, and I don't know what to do, because I have to talk things over, but nobody else cares. And then everyone is surprised that I go to the christian cafe every day, where everyone is polite and talks to me, and secretly tries to save me. Maybe one day I'll be the guy running around with a maniacal smile while searching for my bible.

In the moments, when I escape the void, I pour myself into the wrong person purely out of desperation. And then it's shitty and awkward for everyone. Meanwhile I keep the fantasy of fleeing to Vilnius and marrying that girl.

Also, fuck you if you write a question and don't follow it with a question mark in emails. That's the second worst thing I've seen anyone with a university degree do to language. It looks fucking angry, if it's not - it's misleading, if it is, why can't you just write the whatever out properly, so I can understand why you're angry.

I see no future for this blog as a blog. I've tried but there's even less emotional feedback than in real life. I should write articles. Don't be surprised, if nothing is posted over the summer in English.

Stories with no culmination, stories with no morale, stories with no story

I'll start off with the most interesting part of this entry.

A year ago or so, I discovered a single hair growing right next to my nipple. While the ability to grow chest beard has escaped me, there is a tiny bit of fur noticeable, however this one hair somehow reached incredible lengths, surpassing its peers multiple times. The only-love-of-my-life of the time made me kill it, but now it's back, and it has a brother. It is as if my right nipple is radiating some unknown wavelength (hint).

Alright, I'm done with the interesting stuff now. While body hair is in at least some way amusing to society (hey, this is a nice song), my concerns include the monthly identity crisis, what to do with music, what to do with career, studies, work, etc. I can't even do the blogs properly, my comic project, a fucking easy one, I have enough material for 4 entries, require exactly one hour more than I want to spend on it a week. The entries here and the other one now consist of haikus and poems, because there is nothing happening, nothing to tell, nothing to worry about except for my mistakes and misdoings, which are non-debatable, since the only morale is "I should have studied more" or "I shouldn't have spent my nights re-watching films".

In the intense moments of sadness, the friendly neighborhood Christian cafe welcomes me with pretty girls, who all fucking know my name now, coffee and new burgers every day. There was this one girl, who recognized me from her friends picture on facebook, asked me something about that, and that was maybe the second time she served me ever. Today she knows my name, knows my food preferences, knows my habits, remembers what I told her briefly during small talk a week ago, makes a[n actually funny] joke, gives me a discount, besides the student discount, of course. And all I do is advertise that place on my blog every week, and I'm pretty sure that the target audience is not the same.

I wrote a shitty song in November, the only reason it's still alive is that it actually held some story, and the story is not exactly about a broken heart, but, you know, nothing is happening at all. Like depression, but in a very specific direction. Last week, I accidentally wrote it again, different key, different rhythm, progression, lyrics, structure, everything, just the underlying idea is the same. And while I have no difficulty publishing my half-assed poems here, I'm still ashamed to put the fucking lyrics publicly, meanwhile, I hope someone would finally get it.

My plan for Tuesday is to go to the open mic again, this time alone, and just do the fucking song to the drunk, rude and uninterested crowd of a hostel bar, where you'll be lucky not to get splinters up your ass.

Because, fuck it, there ain't many things beside music that actually make me happy today.

I want to meet people and talk to them, but my struggles include *nagging them to a point where they get tired of me, *walking around the old town like an asshole, *leaving the one place where I had a discussion because

i'm a terrible writer, i still don't know what i wanted to say, so i quit for today.

next stop, 100th entry since october, wow. one of the persons that i specifically wanted to read my blog opened it once, when it had exactly one entry. pretty sure she never opened it again. it's not that the blog is important, but i hoped she'd talk to me more. fuck, i don't know what i expect anymore.

hey, faggots, i write poetry

EDIT: I'M APPROACHING 100 POSTS HERE, SO THERE'S GONNA BE A SURPRISE WHICH WILL PROBABLY BE DISAPPOINTING BECAUSE I HAVE NO TIME FOR THINGS AND STUFF.

i tend to put song lyrics up in the title, just like all the other teen girls, but tonight i wish i could put the synth from this song's chorus, because nothing could describe my mood better than that. let me open up paint and draw it for you.

i think that's correct.

in either case, a poem for all the lost souls. not a haiku.

as i walked through the city

there was a bottle of rum

and it wasn't exactly empty

no, still waiting for some bum.

of all the bright moments today

that was the finest one.

the sky was a light shade of grey

so not much help from the sun.

my rhyming skills suck, alright

i use an app for that

so the last two lines i write

don't make much sense. cat.

poetry is hard.

let me just do a haiku

in this moonless night.

oh, i wish i was

half as creative as now

at work, school or bars.

should i take up drugs?

would cocaine make me cooler?

what about a car?

i'll cut my hair soon.

if that doesn't get me laid,

nothing will, damn it.

god, to be honest,

i wouldn't complain much, but

life is tough, i'm not.

yes, i ended up on a superdepressive note, but i lost my acceleration in the poems.

and with this nightly comic i will catch some sleep before work.

island songs, window sills, drunks and was that what i think it was

1. I honestly thought Tallinn would be more friendly than Riga for several reasons, but today I've encountered more drunk assholes than in the cheap (and cancelled) summer festival I went to in 2009, where the only people not drunk were the people smoking weed.

2. Today I had one of the moments that nobody else can know about - and these moments are piling up and I don't like to forget and I don't to update the paper diary. If all those moments happened to me on the same day, I'd be sent to jail just in case, because the sum would be so discrediting, though technically not illegal.

3. My weekend is reserved for schoolwork. However, since I know it's the last day to relax before impending concerts and writing and working and exams and travels and so on, I accidentally stretched Friday 3 hours into Saturday.

4. It might not look obvious, but I like the Lithuanian family that I can't communicate with in my apartment. They like how I play the guitar behind the wall, I like how they feed me, holy shit, I hadn't had proper Baltic food in a long time. Lido has price issues, overdone quality and the table cleaning girl wears a parody of a national dress with ugly socks and a "Chinese" tattoo above them (and I really hope that's a menu for the restaurant she worked at before Lido). Living Room at least provides some friendliness, but the specials are always pasta with fancy cheeses and rucola. Tastes great, but today's potatoes, cutlets and borscht just kicked up memories of a better life, when meat was a daily treat, clouds of fat rained large drops of sour cream and potatoes appeared on the plate without the ritual of watching South Park while peeling them.

Too bad for my stubbornness, should have gone to Latvia earlier, can't go tomorrow night.

And then, as another parade of Finnish/Estonian/Russian drunks goes by my window, at 3:08 on a Saturday, I realize how important food is.

Here's me being all high.

Firsts and "good luck next time"s

The first public performance with L has been spent wonderfully. The mics were too quiet, the speakers were bad, guitar plugged to the mixer is not what I want to do often, but, fuck it, I love playing live. L seemed satisfied as well. She said some people came from the other room to see us, and, later, when I complimented a girls looks, L cried out that "she was the one!" Oh yes, I don't need no groupies or numbers, it's enough that pretty girls come listen to me.

The Canadian host was great as well! Miraculously, I picked Feist's song to play a few days earlier, so he liked that too. My blues song sounded the best for me, though, while Medicine Man was hard to comprehend due to my microphone falling away.

While trying to delete a letter, I pressed a key combination that just completely broke the layout for Chrome, and I can't seem to fix it, whoops.

And, finally, all results for news.err.ee flash fiction contest are in, and I'm not in the top 5. While my hopes were sky-high, the fact they published it is putting a stop to my worries. Winning the 200 euros was the most important part, and that's just money. As for the story, it's stupid. I wrote to fill the guidelines and that never works. There are always next times.

I don't have pictures, so this will do.

Security

Apparently, my apartment door was left open, so the guy maintaining the house wanted to be helpful and notify me of that.

The only thing I remember is how I half-chased him out, while he repeated "open" in broken English.

Jesus fucking christ, strangers in my home have always been the worst part of my nightmares. How the fuck do I go to sleep now?

My laptop is not super-expensive, but contains everything study and work related, besides all my pictures (only "backup" on the blogs). Lying on the table.

Ashtray used 4h ago on the window. Provably the smell of tobacco.

Keys to my everything.

Wallet.

If I wasn't scared shitless, paranoid about someone hiding somewhere here, I should really go check everything.

I wrote a song and not a day passed until I realized that it's actually the 4 chord song in disguise

F#m E D A E Fm

The masterful rhythms can't hide that now. Also, after years of talking about this, how can I still come back.

Other news: guests, who got me real bread and rumors from Latvia; headaches; drinking with almost no physical consequences; too many guitars for a flat my size; a surprise performance in 44h from now on, holy shit; work not done; plans on running away from home just to be rediscovered 30 years later as a bum, so when I pick up a guitar to play, my talents don't matter but people like me because they don't expect bums to play guitar. YES, JELLY.

No pictures, because you got like a million last post.

Oh shit, deadline for random mammals. fuck me, not tonight

Music should be nice

I believe it was the Latvian magazine "Rīgas Laiks" that had an interview which mentioned that "Calling a musical piece "background music" is the worst insult of them all." Which is agreeable in a way, of course.

What worries me more is that some people completely ignore the possibilities that music can give us. Next week I'm playing with such people, who don't understand how the organization of a song should be done, but all my suggestions are waved away, "it's more about the feeling, it should come from the heart" no, fuck you, it can be done better, it could be done beautifully, and the public is partially to blame if they only require a bunch of kids on stage.

Hear hear

"Don't write about today's rehearsal."

Alright, so the past few days I was studying, working, writing songs and then there were joints in the living room. Nothing write-worthy, but, speaking of living rooms:

Once upon a time, I was this 12-year-old kid who would discover atheism and immediately dive into it, without any context or "arguments" for the "cause", and start slurring believers on social portals, because I figured there's a war or something. And being on the opposing side is always more cool.

A few years later, my attitude changed to "I don't know" and "let's not talk about this", which still works, because I'm not going to convince anyone. And the first question, inevitably, is "do you believe in god?" which, in some units that I can't describe, equals "do you still love her?" question. Always this philosophical and emotional implication, that is not unlike the girls who drink, talk to drunk people in parties and go study psychology.

I'd like to go to a psychiatrist, though. It would be just talking and someone listening, and maybe giving some good advice or, even better, prescription medicine to spice up the day, no?

Back to the point, the details of which I have forgotten, since an hour has past since the third paragraph.

No, I've changed my mind.

Here's a song.

Here are some pictures I took over the past 2 months.

Number one. The young artist expresses his winter depression through this dark piece. Notice the bright lights cast by park lamps that are opposed by the tall leaning street lamp. The latter is built for practical purposes and is not more or less than just "convenient to have". Metaphore of the working class crisis. The warm colors and a Christmas feeling is used ironically to reflect author's contempt of capitalism. Situated almost in the center, a sign "no parking" symbolizes the countless limitations we have today.

Number two. I accidentally took this today, as I was trying to figure out settings for an ID card portrait, before giving up and asking my flatmate to take a proper picture of me.

Number three. Couldn't get the colors right while taking the picture, couldn't get them right while editing, so just clicked "auto-enhance color" and saved. Teachers would be in awe.

Number four. I still love my fucking view, and I love the moon. Fuck Mars.

Did I mention the moon?

The Moon

For the past weeks, I want to go to the Moon. When I said this to a coursemate, he asked, if that's a bar. But, no, the actual white moon in the sky. Zero interest in Mars, that's just a red desert. I don't think there's much interesting to see for now, all the "there was water here" statements are (as far as I know) based on results from testing, and laser zapping and mining and so on, it's not very visible for a visitor, who has no knowledge in geology.

And Mars is a red desert. You can get very similar things on Earth. I see pictures from Mars, and it looks nice, but I can't really comprehend that it's a different planet. And it's further away, but even that knowledge doesn't make it better.

The Moon, though, is white. Black sky with bright dots, a large earth from the distance (just a dot from Mars), yellow sun on black canvas and a gray scale desert, no movement, no air, no sound, except the vibrations in your suit. Only colors of the surface are from the star-spangled flag. Fuck yes. That gives you the satisfaction, because it can be nothing else than a rock in space.

Mars, no. You go there and look around and see Earth, and as you wander around, you expect someone or something to come out from behind a mountain. But that never happens. And there's even atmosphere, which  create something of an Earth-like sky.

The only things I'd love to see on Mars are the huge mountains. Mountains are cool.

Whoops

NOTE: I was high and posted this in the wrong blog yesterday.

I love celebrating 4/20 and planning to write my blog post about it and then just sitting there stoned for hours and realizing it's 1:29 in the next day.

But, in all seriousness, after countless headaches, after panic attacks about liver cancer and dying, I'm trying to quit alcohol. I started quitting several times - some days I just forgot I'm not drinking anymore, some days I forgot why. And some days I was just socially required to drink to make others more happy. Still, mixing wine with water and pretending that my diet is somewhat serous.

I have people coming over next week. Most likely. Probably. Hopefully.

Unless I work really fucking hard until the end of April, I'll be completely broke next month.

Each is concerned with their immediate need

April 15 is now important because of bombings. This will reflect in various policies of US and allies. Almost 200 injured, three confirmed dead (current data).

I crie evry time.

The same day 55 are killed in bombings throughout Iraq. And, I'm not blaming anyone in particular, but, according to every fucking news company that I check, Boston bombing is more important. Every murder is equally bad, assholes. "But America is a civilized western country and should be safe hurr durr" US has started questionable wars, resulting in deaths of thousands of civilians. It has raised generations of self-obsessed assholes, and the capitalism, as much as it works economically, creates a tense and over-competitive environment*. It is bound to have enemies, it is bound to have crazy people.

I can't wait for the announcement of the suspects to induce a new waves of racism, revenge, labeling and madness.

Meanwhile, after countless documentaries, books, escaped citizens as guest speakers and nuclear warfare threats, internet still produces memes and recycled jokes about North Korea, while millions suffer, eat rats and are sent to concentration camps (along with all relatives and unborn children and grandchildren) for folding a newspaper wrong.**

But, yeah, Boston bombing is totally the most significant thing going on.

*Exaggerated capitalism in South Korea has lead to incredibly high suicide rates, according to Blaine Harden. The only country to exceed their rates is Greenland, where 20% of population have tried to kill themselves at some point of their lives.

**This rant is inspired by this book and documentaries including Land of Whispers and Inside North Korea, to name a few.

Graphs

Most of my 3 readers will know that occasionally I draw incredible paintings, sometimes they're presented in a comic blog.

As of last week, I've began a series, featuring random mammals and their questionable ways of life.

Here's the link, and here's a graph, because everyone fucking loves graphs.

And then suddenly disappointment

In my up-until-now favorite university course, we were explained a task in the future - a live show, at least for 45 minutes, and, what the fuck, I have no idea how to do it. Most of the lesson I was just sitting and trying to figure out which role I could do without failing. Even the ever so easy cameraman task is super complicated now, since there are three cameras to be moved around the studio between sets during short interludes, they have to follow a hands and, ah, fuck. There goes my confidence.

The street is currently being cleaned by a pair of very loud, very slow trucks for the third time tonight. If the road is not shining and spotless tomorrow, and if the trucks ever come back during the night, I'll run up to them with nails, screws, broken glass, lego's and knives to throw underneath the tires.

Scratch that, it would probably take even louder trucks to tow these away.

Since I got an e-book reader and I was reading for most of the day, I tried googling "must-read books". The first list had Hunger Games at the top, so I just lost my faith in this list, and any other lists on the internet.

Apparently

Yet again I've been concentrating on the primary blog. 

During the past week, numerous concerts were held in Tallinn, and I saw two Latvian bands, a Latvian artist, and, today, Sun Araw. And, oh, not only it has been inspiring, I have to rethink my own musical activities, because it is not going as well as I expected, especially since we've lost the bass for now.

On the other hand, at least I work with someone that is actually giving an input.

I was ready to write more today, but hungry as fuck, so here's a picture with terrible quality.

And the drums the drums the drums

Concerns include missed work, school, money spent and the fact that some things are so good that nothing else can even approach it.

one two three four
life is not fun anymore

excuses and shit

I don't want to do blogs anymore, I want to write music and some stories once in a while. My blogging peaked with the tragedy which was loneliness in summer, but I don't feel lonely anymore. There's shit in Tallinn to do, there's people I enjoy meeting in Riga. Fuck it, could be worse.

And with that last sentence, there's not much to write about anymore.

Relationships: none, and I could live without.
Music: all is good.
Studies: could be better, as fucking always.
Work: could be worse, as always.

Now it's three in the morning and you're eating alone

Quoting lyrics in blog titles is just for a pale hope that other people will feel the same as you do while listening to the song.

In either case, here's the song. i VI III is the progression, and it works.

Tomorrow will be the day I go to English once again. Can't wait to murmur the excuse why this is the second time in the semester.

The end.

I like this picture, so I'll post it.

Real life

It shouldn't be a surprise, but when I had to juggle work, school projects, sleep and money saving, it was too hard and I didn't have a nice weekend and I still have not finished at least 3 things that I was planning to do.

On the other hand, yesterday was much worse, because directing was the same as trying to explain ideas to band members, and it fucking doesn't work, I don't know how to do it. And as I was walking home from the lost battle, I realized that my studies, hobbies, work and interests are so varied that I might turn out a decently interesting person after all. Of course, if I don't suddenly fail the university for some reason, or get sacked in a month of shitty job, or fail to do anything useful with the band, or find out that news are not a legitimate source for politics knowledge, or

Reality hits you hard, bro

Creative pause

Opening a blank page did not inspire me to write a beautiful article.

I had a test at school, I came home and made lunch, I went to choir, I came home.

Judging by the pace my life is currently going, I think I'm taking a pause to accumulate adventures to write about.

Smoker's habits

As I sit down to an empty article and think of what to write about, I always reach for hand cream, and then awkwardly sit with cream on palms, because now I can't write. Much better than sitting completely motionlessly. Maybe the same reason I reach for the smokes?

And, speaking of smoking, the worst five seconds happened five hours ago. I'm walking towards the shop on a rather narrow sidewalk. It's cold, so I have my gloves in pockets and a cigarette in my mouth by itself. A woman walks towards me and, not wanting to accidentally blow smoke in her face, take the cigarette out of my mouth with the mittens, but those are mittens and you can't handle the cigarette with mittens, so I play the Hot Potato with actually juggling a burning object in my hands, and while I do that, I miss the sidewalk and stumble. And, obviously, lose the smoke, as well as respect from the random stranger observing me.

HOW AM I THE ONLY ONE

I am not scared of the interview. The worries will begin when they take me. There are so many aspects that I have no clue about. Am I expected to look for clients on my own? Am I expected to understand how Latvian tax system works? Negotiating with local governments? Do I wear a suit to work every day? What if they don't think my hairstyle and shitty facial skin are appropriate for this type of job - whatever it is? 

Sidetrack. Why the fuck would evolution give humans cramps? I just googled and "The actual cause of night cramps is unknown". 

Six hours ago I read how scientists have connected brains of two lab rats that are thousand miles away. (BBC) The futuristic prognosis was that this might be a step towards millions of animals working together on a problem, a fucking Utopian joint intellect. And they can't explain the cramps?

I really hope my search skills suck, because this is not the world I like to live in. 

I forgot to do the electronics for tomorrow, shit

Goals

Five years ago I started to write a blog in Latvian. Today it surpassed 9000 views in total.

Five months ago I started to write a blog in English. Today it surpassed 2000 views in total.

Seven months ago I casually fell for a girl as soon as I met her. Then she mentioned that she lives in the city where I was moving to. Then she mentioned her marriage and two kids and how she's near 30 and is a professor at the Academy of Arts of Tallinn or something.

Seven minutes ago I sent a motivation letter to apply for a position that I have zero knowledge or experience in, and I really hope that my amassed writing skills will work this time, because I need a job and I need money and I need new experience and I need to get off my ass and do shit.

Here's me being super slim in a forest two years ago.

Who needs who

I don't know how to keep up with all the music that's worth listening to, since I just get so obsessed with some bands that there's nothing else on the daily playlist. It's been Dark Dark Dark for the past weeks, with a slight detour with Matt & Kim when I wanted something simple and catchy. And Nick Cave's new album is much better than expected and that's probably the next addiction, but I'm still not over DDD for now.

I love how the editing class is actually my pace and I might actually have the balls to edit an assignment. Despite the fact that everyone, including the lecturer, had problems with crashing, saving and importing media on the timeline, the Mac environment starts to feel somewhat comfortable as well.

In other news, I'm currently writing a motivation letter to apply to a position called "export sales manager to Latvian market". This is how desperate I am, trying to get the first job that looks for a student who speaks Latvian, despite the zero education in business or marketing. I will not provide a link to the site as they might trace the pageviews back to this and just might assume that I'm not motivated enough.

No, but seriously, I'd love to work for a change.

Terrible statistics

Early January I made the mistake of listing all the cigarettes I've bought. Today I calculated that since 2013 has started, I smoke a cigarette every 4 hours on average. That does not sound right and hopefully it's due to an error, but I'm too scared to do it all again.

In 2009, I had a brief adventure with a girl who drew the eagle of Winston cigarettes' logo on my arm with a pen, and I thought it was cool.

Tonight, I drew my own eagle, and let me just point out that it took way more time than it should have, and it's 5 in the morning again, what the fuck.

On politics, journalists and students

Journalism is in a crisis.

Jesus, that would be a terrible introduction, if I actually published this outside of a personal blog.

I'll be honest and point out, that I have no idea how was it 10 years ago, last century or whatever. Right now, however, it saddens to see what is published. The content, form and hidden dishonesty of the author make the news reading/watching unbearable at times. Somehow, radio news have never done that, and maybe it's because I only listen to two different news programs on the radio.

There was a case in the Latvian magazine "Sestdiena" where they published results to a poll, whether Latvian citizens trust euro as a currency or not.

Possible answers:
*Yes (as in, I trust in euro)
*Rather yes
*No
*Rather no
*No opinion

The problem was not with the results (most people with opinion did not trust euro at the time of poll), it was with the presentation. The journalist did not publish all the results, which could have been done with a pie chart easily. He/She (the name could not be found, so I couldn't sue the asshole) counted "No" and "Rather no" answers together, to get the majority, and then finished off with "Only 13% trust euro". In fact, it was never mentioned in the short article, what the possible answers were. So, if I had not seen the original poll in the origin website, I would have assumed, that 13% said yes, 60% said no, and a whooping 27% didn't care, which would not be surprising, but it is also untrue. That was a clear manipulation of data, and I assume, that at least 90% of people, who read the article, had not seen the actual results. So, fuck you, whoever did this, that was the same level as Some people say technique.

The publisher, who's responsible for the magazine also publishes the most popular newspaper in Latvia, "Diena". In November, as I came home, I glanced at the "above the fold" sections of some "Diena" issues, and almost got a stroke from the dishonesty of a statement. "Obama wins by a small margin."

How about fuck you, 332 to 206 is not a small margin, that is way over 60% of electoral votes, which, obviously, is not stated anywhere near the front page. Nobody, except the losers, care for the popular vote, because that is not how USA elections work.

Alright, there were the cases of dishonesty.

The source. Today, as part of TV Journalism class, we had screenings of some student-made news stories. Some of them had interviews with politicians. One specific piece had an interview with a prime minister and some deputies and some experts as well, as far as I remember. It was on the proposal to decrease salaries for the government, I think. Sounds great for student journalism?

I don't think the group that produced that had ever seen the news. They included opinions from people on the street, that didn't have an opinion. Yes, that's great, show me more nothing. It appeared as if some interviewees were included just because they sounded clever. A Russian lady, whose response was also included, said this: "They need to pay average people better, I don't care for the government." Alright, so no opinion about the original question, but included just to mess with us.

But the worst was saved for last. One of the "journalists" that concluded the story said this: "But what really concerns me is that only 23 out of 101 seats in the parliament are held by women."

I don't give a shit about what you're concerned about, especially not in this manner of presentation. Women have half the votes of the country, women have rights to compete for the seats, and, yes, while there is some sexual discrimination, you are not helping by doing a mediocre story and then blurting out "I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO COMMENT ON WHAT OTHERS SAY SO HERE'S ANOTHER ISSUE"

And I also don't give a shit that it's a story done by students. They had gained access to parliament and government, and they ruined it. If they wanted to do it on politics, I suppose they think they're interested and capable of doing it.

I can't promise perfect results, there were worse jobs, but this set me off.

And then there's this guy, who also plans to become a journalist, and if he doesn't fail his exams, I'll lose my trust in Latvian University for good.

Yesterday

The constant reevaluation of my choices and other people I'm connected with makes the whole Tallinn experience feel like some eye-opening journey and a transition into a worse person rather than the expected careless student life.

I have people that can only be categorized as "ex-friends", just because the friendship ceased to function with September. Not the expected ones.

By the way, I've had two visitors, except for family. That's great, for a foreign country, but not that great if considering the fucking actual distance and price (you probably spend more even for a shitty party). At least 10 people promised to come, at least 5 started to make plans, getting my hopes up, just to cancel just because of a lack of initiative. And this is the part which I really hate. Was that small talk and was I not seriously supposed to care, or am I losing some value?

I realize the problems with long distance relationships, on whatever levels, but this is getting ridiculous. Also, I can't seem to figure out a way to fit in the small circle of people I know here, so the problems are pressing.

On the pleasant side, we had a great rehearsal, and we'll have more. And I'm playing with another coverband in Saaremaa in early March. And probably getting a cajon. And probably going to Scotland.

[Part 2] This is what I wanted to study

Here's the Part 1!

Back to revenue: more clicks mean more views means more money that can be charged from the advertisers. News companies will try to draw you to their content - I suppose this is common knowledge. The difference is with state funded television or radio broadcasts (I have not seen a state funded newspaper in my short experience), but these are minorities in the media world.

So, since the competition is fierce, not all companies can have the best journalists to investigate all current events timely and present the facts in a non-biased manner that's actually understandable for the common viewer/reader/listener. Audience tends to want the best and the fastest. Therefore, companies can decide to move towards yellow press methods:

Flashy Names CHEATING On Each other!!! 

RANDOM FUCKED UP SHIT IN A DIFFERENT COUNTRY!

A completely misguiding title to make the issue more interesting, yet misinterpreted by most readers!

And a person, who lives in a country where the popular mass media consists of portals having an "Ask an astrologist" section, will, apparently, go to these sites! If it wasn't for the society who is stupid enough to read the articles, this and this would not exist.

Therefore, someone who bitched about shitty articles (both from the same portal) twice in a couple of weeks, is a hypocrite and does not deserve anything better.

And then you get a situation where a whole class of journalism students in a university have not heard of an international headline story. I was in high school when I read this story and, honestly, was shocked. A rough translation:

...We get everything from the internet, the modern consumers of information explain to me. But in that case, how did they all miss the situation in France, where a Muslim killed three soldiers, then a rabbi, two children and another person in a Jewish school, then barricaded in his house and was shot himself after 30 hours as he opened fire against the police and tried to flee?

My vast knowledge of current news at that point consisted of diena.lv mobile version, BBC World Service broadcast and occasional visits to ir.lv. Three sources, and I knew disturbingly much about said case.

I've been repeating myself for a while now, so let me conclude with this metaphor.

If you only keep listening to European Hit Radio, you have no right to conclude that music is awful or all the same.
If you keep eating in fast food chains, you have no right to conclude food tastes horrible and makes you fat.
If you keep going to shitty mass media sites, you deserve nothing better.

[Part 1] This is what I wanted to study

Situation 1

Lecturer: "Many journalists fail to achieve these goals in their stories."
Student from back: "Yeah, that's why I'm not interested in news!"

Situation 2

A guy shares bullshit news stories from yellow press and concludes: "Not reading the news is still a good choice."

***

With all my respect towards your personal choices, completely dissing the news is foolish. Radio and TV are available to everyone basically for free, and when you're using the internet, you have enormous amounts of free information. Most media outlets sustain themselves through advertising and you do not have to open your wallet to receive information. Therefore, the only limit of information intake is how much time do you want to dedicate.

If you are unable to do a basic filtering of what to read, watch or listen to, it is your fault and you will not be able to get the free AND quality content. Without news, you wouldn't know, who are the people that run your lives (politics on all levels), you wouldn't know about cultural development, you wouldn't know what happens outside your comfort circle, which is, at maximum, 50 people. Open up bbc.co.uk or ir.lv, or any other decent news webpage, and imagine that you would not know anything about the topics covered there. Fucking anyone could act on their wildest imaginations, nobody would be aware of that and society could not develop, since there would be zero connections. "But I get news when people share them on Facebook or 9gag," fuck you, those are either reposted news articles or wild and shallow interpretations of them. Is this so hard to understand?

"For my friends, who distribute 9gag links: I can't forbid you to eat shit, that is your right, but for this reason it is so much harder to love you." (Source)

And with this mediocre self-shot from my previous residence I will stop raging.

Click here for Part 2!

one two fuck four

I don't want to go to sleep because there are all the things to do, for example, self-portraits. However, I shouldn't probably approach the 36 hour mark.

So here are two nightly pictures.

So here's what I struggle with

One thing that frustrates me is that non-specialists often discount my opinion because it does not agree with their preconceived notions, popular beliefs, or their individual observations.  To be clear, I don't expect anyone to believe what I tell them based solely on my authority - if I don't have evidence to back it up, you shouldn't agree with me.  And its perfectly possible for someone to have a good understanding of a subject and still disagree with me. But, often people don't acknowledge that authoritative evidence which contradicts their understanding of a subject could exist.  (Basically, I'm just jealous of physicists, because people are less likely to argue with them about physics than they are to argue with me about what I study. Although, I'm sure they get enough from people who believe quantum theory means homeopathy is true that I don't feel that bad.)

From Peter Leykam on quora.com

Achievements, for sure

Today I had a serious go at Premiere, since for the last week my collection of stop motion material has grown a lot. 3rd minute in, I overload the program and angrily close it. Zero progress.

Today I had a serious go at FL Studio, since I have to work out proper synths for the band. They all sound like shit, so I close everything without saving. Zero progress.

Today I tried to watch some films, but all are boring and Doctor Who is still incredible. Zero progress for the films, love towards Doctor increased.

Here's my July or August or whatever. Working with a tripod alone is so much better than whatever the assignments for school - no pressure from others, enough time to do the long setup and experiment around, equipment flaws are less visible. Homeworks with hi-key and composition might have been useful or whatever, but made me dislike photography for a while.

I don't believe in hangovers

"This wine will make your head hurt a lot."
A lot is an understatement. When I woke up at 8AM, I wanted to close the curtains and to open the window, because the light accelerated the headache and there was no air. But I was in way too much pain to actually get up, so I dreamed of opening the window and closing the fucking curtains about five or six times and then realized that, nope, just a dream.

My priorities have to be overlooked, and I don't think my body is able to cope with all the drinking and smoking and irregular sleeping.

Here's me being shocked at my own actions.

writers block

One of the major changes in my behavior was when I started to put my cigarettes in the coat's outer pocket rather than the inside one. 

As I was thinking about that statement, it sounded very cool, but there's no further comment, there's no explanation and there isn't a proper blog post. Will come back to this later.

Language crisis

The combination of not having internet and doubts of any non-Latvian readers of the blogs have lead to a pause in the updates of this blog. Definitely not permanent and you can always check here. 

A picture as an apology. I was playing with dinosaurs because dinosaurs are awesome and my little brother has millions.

Dreams

Wednesday morning began with me waking up incredibly early, five or so, due to my pizza eating habits. If I had had any more, the food would forcefully reappear, but I just woke up and felt sort of shitty.

A lazy notification lights up on my phone and I see that someone has made a comment an hour ago. "I saw you in my dream."

In the reasonable morning, the appearance was described. "You were waiting outside the school cafe with a guitar on your back and a kitty." And there's the kind of dreams that I like being told about.

I had a different one on Tuesday morning. it was an alternative ending to the Mondays meeting. And then there was yet another conclusion. Both unnecessary, since it was just a visualization of the things I knew before falling asleep.

For me, writing in English is fucking ridiculous and there's no motivation to try reaching the Latvian level, since blogging alone was 5 years longer, disregarding the actual language and grammar knowledge.

do you think your theoretical masturbation will change anything?

20.01.2013
12:14

Alright, so it's Friday, the last exam and one of the screenings have ended, and we have completely moved in the new apartment with V. The first thing to do is, obviously, buy cheap whiskey and make a housewarming party. However, the few guests that responded to the invitation were all late. In fact  I got drunk an hour before the first ones. And I continued to get drunk, and I thank the divines for sparing me next morning, but, haha, I am messing with the timeline, am I?

The first guests, L and S, are a strange couple when it comes to interacting with me. Despite my thoughts of them as the typical naive lovebirds, not only they seem to like hanging out with me sometimes, but they are actually fun to get drunk with. I can hardly explain any better, but, yes, being wrong can be nice.

While I had noticed this before, but I actually don't fucking remember what happened before we went to the bar. I know I bought more wine, conducted dubstep, played music with those guys, holy shit, there's a video even, will upload upon getting home.

Then we went to the bar, and while others bought beer and cocktails  I did the first sensible thing in a long time and only ordered food. My pride about this is not justified, yet exists. And then, trying to convince myself that E was not flirting, I go home, find that L and S are super kind and have left me a place to sleep. There was a warmth in my heart, when I saw that they, even drunk, found their own pillow and made their own bed, not just used mine. They did take my blanket though, so I had to look for another one, but it was dark and silent, so I took the first thing to cover my body, and that turned out to be the coldest thing in the universe. And I woke up from cold 30 minutes before the planned time, made advanced-as-fuck breakfast and headed out.

About eight hours later I find myself in a tram packed with junkies and bums, heading north-west. We buy a couple of bottles for us and head to L's place. The first awkward conversations fade away after the first hour, since everyone is trying to get drunk and sociable. Then I manage to create a drama between L and her boyfriend (whose name I don't remember), alcohol is gone completely so me, V, J and, oh shit, forgot her name, go to Hell Hunt. At some point I, again, realize that I can't get over my obsession with self. That ends with waves of shame and attempts of self-control.

The Romanian was 26 years old, with awesome hair and beautiful face, but there was something else. A necklace, that was a fucking eye magnet, and the lowest piece was right at the cleavage. It was not slutty, but it was so beautiful that the beauty had become sexual as fuck. A poor description, but I was struggling hard to keep the eyes off and ended up not looking at her at all, even while talking to her, and that might have made me look even more like an asshole.

Half an hour later, I'm in some bar's smoking room and a girl, whose cigarette I lighted a minute ago, notices that I'm looking at her awesomely dirty yellow hair. "It looks as if you want to start a conversation with me." That has to be the nicest thing to say to me, because, yes, of course, but I'm too awkward to do that.

We talked for a while and there are a few things I remember.

1) She renovates old wooden doors.
2) Her eyes were red, and I mean traffic light red, as on a weed marathon after a sleepless week.
3) She was drinking water.

As you may have noticed, the numbers in the beginning of the article suggest that I started to write the piece at 12:14, so, on the bus from Tallinn. It is now 12 hours after that. It was a great day. In the Tallinn flat, I've been way more productive than any other place, because there's no internet around. Today I was not even trying to find time to actually finish this thing and to upload it.

***

Things are not always good. For example, there's reason to believe that I was being avoided recently because I get drunk too often. And that's just bad, since I might have to switch back to "get high alone and don't cause problems" system for a while. There's always the "you are smart and play music, so get some self-esteem without drugs" but that's hard.

People around you are only afraid cause you can blast them far far away.

The pictures related with the events will be added as illustrations during the next posts.

School internet!

I have no internet in the new apartment, so I can't publish things on time.

16.01.2013
1:33

The new flat is actually incredible. Almost every single detail is better, it's much larger, the ceiling is almost 4 meters high, there's decent heating, oven and a huge HITACHI stereo for all our tapes we want to play. Oh, and tomorrow I'm waking up 45 minutes later than I would in fucking Nõmme.

I was trying to cover the walls with all the paintings, drawings and posters that I had, and that were enough for the previous apartment. My room now looks like the asshole modern art galleries: huge white walls, fluorescent light and small spots of objects scattered around. The floors are a different subject alltogether. The amount of stuff I have is immense. As I was moving things from previous flat to the car, it took me 4 journeys back and forth just to realize that I've forgotten to pack about a dozen books, a huge blanket and some other smaller things.

***

I have no internet, so I can't check, but something popped up, so hear me out. Why do some girls look cuter when they are sick? Alright, maybe it's just me, but if not, my theory is based on evolution. If two girls are sick with the same illness, the one that looks better has a higher chance of being cared for, right? That is the idea I've heard about babies, both animal and human ones, but I'm about 60% sure that this applies to sick individuals as well.

Don't. Stop.

3:06

I've had time to process things, yet nothing is clear. The new flat seems as my cave, but I have no power penguin to convince me to man up and do the things I have to.

After the first wave of wonderful memories of the party, ripples of regret start to spread more and more. And unfortunately this shameless partying will go on, since I am honestly more concerned about The Doctor's adventures than real life consequences.

For example, I should have written that email three fucking days ago, and I again postponed it to the morning. Even though the morning is in 4 hours, and I have to pack until then as well.

3:44

Something terrifying came up and I can't really describe it. Again, not surprised, but, shit, did I fuck up or what. I want my "can't find a girl" problems back.

birthdays

I am physically unable to write a coherent post, because it is 5:50 and I am still drunk. This has to be my best birthday party I've had, the previous one was an awkward everyday thing in a bar and the 18th birthday was just cleaning up barf and not getting drunk at all.

We danced and sang and drank and ate and went to bars and sang and danced and drank and I think there's gonna be videos of me and Ann dancing to Thom Yorke again.

This was fucked up and awesome at the same time and I can't express my joy of the night.

fuck you, no songs

I am writing this to remember, since most of it will be lost in a few hours. The language in further entry is shit, but so is my ability to write, because of the

Adventures.

I wake up after a sleepless night, push myself into the shower, come out, oh, no breakfast.

I roll up a smoke, get my suit on, leave the house, miss a bus.

I get in the next bus just to get a familiar feeling. Lightheaded, legs trembling, sweating more than I ever would while exercising (because I never really do that), no oxygen despite the deep breathing.

So I know I'm gonna faint. The bus is crowded, there's only one seat close to me, occupied by an old lady, and I know for sure she's not gonna understand my English or Latvian. So I just fucking squint down like an asshole, with my suit and everything. First time I tried to cover it up with tying my shoes (that work with a zipper). As I was down there, I sort of regain my strength and slowly stand up nooooooooo going back down. A great "thank you" goes to whichever higher power that ensured I'm actually in an Express Bus, so my humiliation was shortened by about 10 minutes. During the long, long squinting minutes, I went through all my Russian knowledge to think of a phrase that might be a reason for an elderly woman to let me in her seat. The closest was "I have a bad heart."

A million miles later, I get out, buy breakfast, wake up a coursemate that was supposed to be awake for at least 45 minutes already, have a tea at her place to sort of revive myself, bring shit to school and run to check a flat out. The flat is fucking perfect, but the asshole broker is now insisting on knowing all 3 people before making the contract. Never mind there's just 2 for now, since we're still looking for a 3rd one.

Filming probably burned some parts of my retina out. Then I receive a message that most of our recorded sound for the documentary is lost.



This hurt a lot, so I left like 3 blank lines there, and another one after this sentence for an extended dramatic effect.

But seriously, that sucks. I run to the bank while emailing with the broker, run back to school, only to be called by someone I think is related with the broker, but, of course, no idea, since it is Russian. I get lights, go to the filming location, another one, third in two days, no?, then I find out the woman calling me constantly is the mother of the owner of the flat that I checked out. I don't think highlighting separate words in bold will help you understand that sentence. Another coursemate takes over my phone, since she is able to speak Russian, tells the lady that I'm a pianist and an awesome tenant. ok.

Filming, running back to the house, haha, and I thought there's time to eat properly, grabbing guitar, ukulele, tambourine, running to neighbor and a coursemate, recording music, watching videos from the December concert.

And, home. It is so hard to believe that it all happened in the same day, especially, a day that started by nearly blacking out on a public bus.

There's one more thing, though. My birthday party is, oh, so very on, and that is a thought that keeps me alive.

Tomorrow:

• get up early as fuck
• pick up stuff from L's apartment, move to school
• record narrating voice in school
• stopmotion for the rest of the day
• calculate finances

The funny thing is that I should have also written an exam today, but, like most of them, I just left them for next week. Anal.

Here's a picture I drew as a "thank you" to a person letting me in her home to get drunk. I miss drawing pictures.

Birthday playlist

Holy shit, I am not a teen in three days. The strange part is that I am not happy about it because I've yet to find a flat to move into, therefore, yet to have a place to celebrate it. Birthday in my mind is just a fine reason to actually meet other people, so not excited about turning 20, but excited to make a playlist (that includes great songs just like this one).

Writing in English has been nowhere near as rewarding as I thought. Horrible typos or lack of ideas are, of course, a part of the problem, but I don't like reading this blog myself most of the time. Also, the tendency of using "I", "me" and "myself" in every sentence is fucking impossible to eradicate, unlike Latvian. 

Furthermore, most of my views are from Latvia, the few Estonian ones are probably generated by a couple of people. Therefore, I will now switch to the combination of the two blogs. Unfortunately, it's tiring to translate the posts (especially the good ones), so content overlapping is unlikely.

Now here's a scene of some artsy people in my backyard in Riga. This is hardly anything special, but amusing at the moment.

Seven

And in article number seven, which is late already, I will not only fail to reach the word count of two hundred, no, I doubt I'll get past 100. Several reasons:

1. I have 2 exams tomorrow, I have no clue what's in either of them.

2. I'm 20 minutes late to a homework.

3. I just borrowed a ukulele and will be playing that.

4. I still have dinner to make.

So, fuck you, 2013 resolutions, I will return to you at some point, but right now I have the real life to deal with.

Word count: 88

Number six

Not surprisingly, but I am not happy with the resolution results. I was inspired by an article to do the small challenges over short periods of time, but for the past five days I've been acting just like in the awkward situations, when there's nothing relevant to say and I'm talking nonsense to fill up the silence.  Just a few months ago I wrote on facebook that universities and schools are responsible for the verbosity due to the strict word count requirements. Now I've done it to myself and most of the text in the previous entries can be crossed out with zero loss.

The shooting was actually a fucking mess. I never saw the story board so I was only dependent on the instructions yelled into my ear while this song was being blasted so loud my bottle vibrated. Also, drink prices were way over the quality. I completely understand why they chose to call a drink "RumCoke" instead of "Cuba Libre", because that was just shit and cost 4.5 euros. Another distracting aspect was that the wolf mask, way too small for my face, obscured about 90% of my view and I bumped into every douche in my way. Oh, the douchebags, tons of them. 

I had forgotten why I don't go to clubs.

Word count: 220

Number five is surprisingly early

The shooting will take place from 11pm to 4am, so I have to do this now.

This page was open for a full hour and I was just playing the guitar and talking to myself. Never mind, not myself, but imaginary other people, explaining various aspects of my life, testing, whether I sound sane or charming or whatever. 

However, I have zero material to write on, will try after the smoking break. 

Alright, I just found a 6 minute video of me, N, P and a random guy V at V's place, with terrible drunk quotes like "Martin, where is my coat, oh my god, where could it be, the problem is that I'm a bit dizzy", "What happens on Christmas, stays on fucking Christmas" and oh my god, I really hope I'm talking in this way only when wasted. 

I've said for a few years now that I'd like to clone myself a few times so I can have the awesome band and every member would understand what I want from them, but now it seems I'd never drink with them. Videos like this really undermine my illusion of a charming drunk.

It has been almost two hours since I started to write this. No miraculous epiphanies, no sudden realizations, and too lazy to try writing something serious. Still, tomorrow should be better, after all, I'm going to party tonight. I don't know anyone there, but, fuck it, I'm an actor and I will be playing a "wolf man" who gets drunk, hallucinates, hits on a girl and then wakes up on his own with no friends in the same bar. Wait, should I be happy that I'm that guy?

I found a shortcut to a folder inside one of its sub-folders. Trippy.

Word count: 304

Four and halfway done

This morning, I woke up cold and sick in middle of nowhere Nõmme, with nobody to make me pancakes. All the people I didn't see enough come to my mind, the shower is too hot, I'm late for the meeting, so overall mood is more depressing than usual. And then I come home and just remember, that I brought some whiskey in the bottom of my suitcase. I actually never drank it, but the thought alone, that I could, warms my heart.

For the third time already, I'm offered a surprise role in one of the assignment films. Not some passing guy character, not some sitting in a white room, like the first ones, no, a main character. A cool one, even, getting drunk and hunting for a girl, how cool is that.

Also, for one of the films, I am both a narrating voice, talking to characters, and a character. So I'm talking to myself. That's fucking weird. But, yes, my face will be all over the screens in a couple of weeks. Which is weird, because I have probably the worst facial skin in the school, but alright.

The only reason I am over the deadline is that my classmate and I are talking about dead people on facebook.

Word count: 212