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