Tuesday, 29 January 2013

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.


Thursday, 24 January 2013

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.

Monday, 21 January 2013

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.

Wednesday, 16 January 2013

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.

Tuesday, 15 January 2013

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.

Sunday, 13 January 2013

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.

Friday, 11 January 2013

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.


Wednesday, 9 January 2013

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.


Tuesday, 8 January 2013

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

Sunday, 6 January 2013

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

Saturday, 5 January 2013

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

Thursday, 3 January 2013

Number three

This week there was someone, most likely Italian, who did a google search of "headache sociology" and found this blog. I love the provided statistics of blogger.com. 

As I stepped out of the public bus with a suitcase and a bag, both heavier than when I left, I remembered how there's no food in the house. The tiredness of carrying the bags (suitcase wheels are useless in soft snow) made me choose fast noodles over vegetables and, you know, healthy food, but I'm too tired to even do that now. Yogurt and snickers don't need that much hassle. 

The bus from Riga to Tallinn was fuller than the one I usually take. This was the first time I actually sat next to someone. It was a girl that wasn't really fat, but wasn't slim either. She was a bit too wide for her seat alone so my left and her right leg just sort of pressed together for about 4 hours, creating a weird and comforting feeling. 

The previous paragraph, while truthful, is fucking stupid, I'm sorry for that. But the busride was the only big thing that happened to me today, so not much material to fill the 200 word minimum of today.

Word count: 203

NUMBER TWO IS LATE

No, but actually, I've got the material, just not sure what exactly to reveal at this point. The once private space has grown to be very public, and, while audience is nice, some basic filtering is really needed. I'm just left with this to tell: I have new boots, that my ex helped me to pick out. Then we had coffee and nice talks about the celebration of a new year. Then I had a date with Irish coffee, Irish cream liqueur and Irish whiskey. Then walks and then a drink and then walks.

Tomorrow I leave to Tallinn in search of a new apartment, in search of education and in search of eternal happiness. I have homework that skipped the mind in holidays, exams I haven't prepared for and a few shoots that I'm not sure I can handle properly.

Actually can't wait to go back, just for the reason of working on the creation of a band. The material for beginning should be enough, I'm eager to do shit, and I've talked about it so much that I would be ashamed not to pull this off for at least a single concert.

The word count was not sufficient, but with this sentence it is.

Word count: 206

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Article number one

This was the final night, when I have to be ashamed for not getting awesome presents for others.

And I miss people from Tallinn while not being able to meet everyone I want here. Also, fuck my financial disorientation.

Nowhere near enough time or energy to do a good blog post, I apologize, but 200+ words a day is my first weeks resolution, so, yeah. 

TUESDAY 25TH

I'm drinking with N, because I'm in Riga and he is too. P joins in with a heartbreaking story of his new disability - a burnt finger; we try to drown the pain in alcohol, but for some reason bars are closed (because of Tuesday or because of Christmas) and we're forced to migrate around, while salvaging a few drinks from the open places. Somehow we end up in one of the bars with, uh, shots? or not, no clue, and a single beer. Also, our table has one chair, so we stand around like assholes. A couple of girls are superfriendly, as we go out for a smoke. Even though there are two other guys, both with exotic accents and so on, they choose me to give me their numbers and that felt nice. Even though they were 17 or something, I don't know. Then we spent a fucking million in another place, found some more people, mostly drunk people, and went to this random guy's house only to realize how fucking drunk we are. Others do more drinks and weed, while I try to play the guitar, but I failed to put two chords together, and that's how I remember how drunk I was. Afterwards, P casually leaves his wallet in the unknown's apartment and we stumble towards his place. P is the most dry (drigh) and falls over a lot. After the third fall, he requests that I take a picture of the place he fell down. I'm sorry, it looks like shit (and there probably is some hidden in the snow), but it was very important to the guy.



Word count: 338