Part One

To celebrate the first fifty entries in this blog, I'll write the 50th in two parts, but not because of the incredible amount to write on. I've been lazy and tired and just unable to sit down and write a proper post, and, even now, when the pressure has been increasing for about a week, it is five minutes to 4am and I just had a date for about 9 hours, during which I got drunk and sobered up and walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door, actually, to fall down in my sisters old bed (as my room is a fucking refrigerator).

But, seriously now, my stereomood favorites sometimes surprise me pleasantly indeed.

You know what, fuck it, the entry will be in more parts, because now I want to explore Dark Dark Dark. My future topics will not only include the regular descriptions of the semi-adventurous life, but also the long-planned essay on The Kills, my extended opinion on the "journalists" of the Latvian newspaper Diena and an article that I might just send to Diena just to show them how much more work should be put into their ridiculously flawed pages.

A picture would be nice, I guess.

Well, nothing special, but a picture it is, and I was in Stockholm and we had nightly walks through the city, while I was smoking my life away, while our legs were killing us, while my girlfriend was angry at me for going across the sea even though I sort of told her I wouldn't, when life still made sense, when a "date" would not mean meeting a girl and walking through parks, cafes and icy streets, but rather another day in the living room chair eating noodles and watching cat videos. Yes, I'm nostalgic as fuck tonight, that's what happens in nights like this.

EDITED 01.01.2013.
Fuck the other parts, seriously.

Resolutions

The goals set for longer periods are usually left until the last moment or just cancelled at all. So I'll try to do a sequence of smaller challenges over January:

First week: one article written each day on whatever subject, >200 words;

Second week: >20 pages read each day from a book not read before;

Third week: >1h each day spent on doing either melodica, bass, electronic or percussion.

Fourth week: if all previous resolutions are fulfilled, celebrate it with a date or make a party.

I'm sick but ready to continue the weird adventures that I'll describe at some point.

Wait

Yesterday I wanted to write my thoughts on how unreliable people are, by only making precise appointments a day or two in advance, and always double-check on facebook or by phone, whether it's still on. Or maybe this is my problem specifically, because I tend to do that a lot, and I don't use calendars. 

Today I woke up two minutes before I had to be in the center. Just enough time to call and cancel.

As a first year student, I am obliged to remind you, that Christmas season holidays are commercialized and capitalists leech the money out of everyone, but, honestly, I couldn't really care less, since I've heard enough from the fellows in the course, where half of the people use the not-so-humble Apple computers. These are the hypocritical modern hippies that hardly solve anything. 

I apologize for the raging on a Christmas day. That's probably because the time spent here is so awesome and I can't be angry with anything else.

Here's me singing Christmas songs:

Bring it

So I'm listening to electronic music and getting pumped up just from being comfortable. The bus is incredibly warm with wireless (electricity sockets aren't working though), I have warm clothes, just ate breakfast, lunch and dinner compressed into an apple, chocolate, snickers and water, and it's hard to hold the excitement for going to Riga.

More pictures, because I'm in a good mood.

Can't get this out for weeks.

Did you forget

This time I can't wait. Since living here, in Riga I seem to be exclusive and rare, and people tend to try and meet me, and it's not that weird, since what else I would do in Riga if not meet people - unlike Tallinn.
"Hey, did you do the assignment? You know, the one where you had to work, not invite me to get shitfaced?"
But, yes, with school sort of finished with a passing grade, tomorrow I get back to hometown with a couple of bags and go straight to a concert. On Saturday, I accidentally just booked the whole night for drinking. Another date is waiting to be set, lovely people are waiting to be met, and now I'm doing accidental rhymes, which I couldn't do three hours ago when trying to write a song.

Seriously though, this place starts to bring me down and my plans for January better work the fuck out. Why would I ever assume that friends come easily and automatically to me.

Another worrisome thing would be my DIY solution to the fuse overload problem that might burn the house down.

Let's get personal. In July or August, I had a fantasy of me dancing with a specific girl to a specific song, right before engaging physically. This would have stayed as just another fantasy, just like the ones where I play on stage with The Kissaway Trail, if not for that time a few weeks back, when it happened. Same girl, almost the same setup, and the remix of the fucking song I imagined, purely incidentally. However, the priorities had changed and nothing happened. Fuck you, destiny, fuck you, dreams, I chose what to do and it worked.

Also, fuck everyone who ever mentioned the end of the world, this one is so hyped up, that some people are probably going to hurt others because everyone is batshit crazy.

I wish I could just choose one genre over others and like everything from it.

These are my legs. I'm on a stage.

Late

So, as the title suggests, I am quite late, but there's always time to post pretty pictures, right?

I've ran out of money, and if somebody doesn't like the MS Paint-ing that I do for Christmas for them, they are capitalistic assholes (that's the only defense I have, since I just consumed alcohol 5 days in row last week). Let the most awkward, cold and pretty celebration begin. 

Christmas song.

Picture.

right it

1 2 3 (To the wonderful person, who claimed to listen to all of the songs, the 3rd one was probably posted earlier, don't worry about that one)

And, as James Murphy said: "Oh, I don't know, oh, where to begin".

While checking Wikipedia for the correct name of the guy, I found out that he recorded most of the instruments for albums. And I thought Greenwood and Tiersen were special, haha:

James Murphy – vocals, drums, bass, percussion, claps, organ, programming, drum machine, synths, guitar, effects, keyboards, piano, clavinet, wurlitzer piano, snaps, omnichord, vocoder

Jesus, and he also writes the fucking music.

So, I might begin with the the concert. Or the soundcheck, yes. I go on the stage and realize my amp is a piece of shit, my mic is electrocuting me when I touch it with my lip and there's no power cable to the keyboard that I haven't seen in my life and have no idea how to work with. The soundcheck goes just how good you'd think it can go with these conditions.

So I started to drink the wine early.

And I was not the only one by a long shot, some douchey drunk teen was thrown out half an hour after the guests started to come.

The back stage is filled with a giggling girl-band talking in Estonian about drinking, dope and whatnot, while me and Margus (bass) stand in the fucking darkest corner and eat our Rimi-bought food.

***

First two bands finish playing and some asshole is hyping up Sander (vocals/guitar/organizer of the whole event etc.), even though we are not quite ready. I go on the stage and realize that the shitty amp is silent. what. switch on. no light. what. "SANDER" "What?" "IT'S NOT WORKING" "WHAT". Everything is delayed, while we set up another amp - yet another piece of equipment I've never tried, oh jolly.

Minor errors, but every song flies by, I hardly see the audience and thank god that the songs are so easy. Except for drums, I've no idea what others are doing, since my monitors are sky-high.

"Which is the next one?"
"Jet."
But that's the last one, what the hell? So I take a gulp of wine roughly the size of a small pond and pick up the tambourine.

And while there was nothing new in the performance that I had not experienced in rehearsals, I am now convinced I'll never sing that song again in such setting. Disappointing, honestly. Two years ago, my vocal range was so much narrower, thus the song was actually forced out - not unlike the original. But today I think that my first go at it was so much more valuable than this one, even though this band is on a whole different level.

Only positive feedback, people considered us to be headliners, encore.
Wine, vodkacoke, conversations, smokes, taxi not coming, cold as fuck, hitchhike to center.

I might have missed some parts, but I think we ended up in Hell Hunt drinking Latvian beer, just my likable hispter Lithuanian and me, then went to this weird place, and I have no clue what was the name or location, because at that point the starts were spinning and, you know how that goes.

So we end up somewhere upstairs, where a 30-something woman approaches me with some great pick-up lines, like: "Your hair is so soft and beautiful and brown," and "What the fuck is with those pimples, your face is so ugly," while her other Estonian friends tell me she's "a fucking nutcase" and tell her to "shut the fuck up". In the midst of all that, I find a 29-year old first grade teacher (maths, Estonian, hand-works, all the bunch), who also plays the flute, so I invite him to a band that is currently in the idea stage. Could be worse.

A dinner at 3 am next to the train station, and I fall down in the bed of a girl who seems rather interesting, even though she is thousands of kilometers away while I make this judgement - the typical student table completely covered with alcohol bottles as if an installation, weird quotes on the wall, a broken bottle as an ashtray, generally strange shit.

And a super fast wrap of this blog entry, since it's only like 7 hours till my lesson and I need to sleep, wash, eat, write an email begging for money, pack and, ah.

I wake up, write a blog post on the only available computer without Latvian characters, edit it through phone, go to a fancy restaurant, have the best lunch since Latvia, buy whisk(e)y, lime, coke, get more drunk with Vytautas, go to pick up my lost glove, have tea with a Finn whose sole wish is to have an insecure eagle, run to the filming location, help people, get a car directly to my house, and I just realized that I still have one uncovered topic - the BFM party. But, seriously, no, let me sleep for once.

Pictures, though:

I know I posted this today in the linked blog entry already, but I love it, so deal with it.

This cat was found in the weird apartment. Oh, and if I figure out what to do about the nonexistent shower, I'll live there as well.

From the set today. We might have played too much with the fog machine. "Why would a women like that just walk calmly in a burning house?"