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» DIY fashion
18th century
In the early nineties Moscow was completely cleared of any preconceptions on anything, including clothing, due to major political/economical collapse/change. And me, in my late teenaging, was in a mood for 18th century for some reason. I think I watched Amadeus or something on the telly. So one day I bought a white powdered wig with a tail and pigeonwings, added black silk shirt, tight black trowsers and golfs, some flea-market shoes and went out. I was most dismayed to see complete lack of interest from the bus passangers on my way to work. Except one lady in her 50s saying: "You look handsome, young man". Still not sure was it irony or not.
(Sat 26th Aug 2006, 18:04, More)
18th century
In the early nineties Moscow was completely cleared of any preconceptions on anything, including clothing, due to major political/economical collapse/change. And me, in my late teenaging, was in a mood for 18th century for some reason. I think I watched Amadeus or something on the telly. So one day I bought a white powdered wig with a tail and pigeonwings, added black silk shirt, tight black trowsers and golfs, some flea-market shoes and went out. I was most dismayed to see complete lack of interest from the bus passangers on my way to work. Except one lady in her 50s saying: "You look handsome, young man". Still not sure was it irony or not.
(Sat 26th Aug 2006, 18:04, More)
» Vomit Pt2
Jean Paul Sartre
I think I was 13 or so when I found myself in a rented beach-house with my then-younger mother and almost total lack of reading on a hot summer vacation. The village library offered nothing more than the complete works of Lenin, Marx and some Dimitrov, as it was in still communist Bulgaria.
In a desperate need to fill my nerdish brains with any written information, instead of rolling in the dust under the blazing sun, I found that my intellectual mother has brought with her a recently published, for the first time in Russian, Nausea. Needless to say, Sartre is not the best reading for the underaged. But as he was a newcomer to our shores, nobody was aware of it. So I plunged into the existential hell accompanied by the chicken cackle and cicadas heard through the window.
Upon reading the 50th page I felt quite bad. By the page 70 I was definately ill. Nauseate, to be precise. When it was obvious, that I'll vomit in a minute, I ran to the shack pretending to be a closet (definately not a water-closet), and threw up. While doing so I understood that the enemy (Sartre, possibly) attacked from behind as well, as the specific feeling of a diarrhea was growing. Cursing the French I had to turn around, and continue emptying my intestines. And turning again. And again.
I spent three days in bed, taking rounds in the shaky toilet. Haven't read Sartre since. Don't think ever will. No need. I know him by my err.. stomach.
(Fri 8th Jan 2010, 21:15, More)
Jean Paul Sartre
I think I was 13 or so when I found myself in a rented beach-house with my then-younger mother and almost total lack of reading on a hot summer vacation. The village library offered nothing more than the complete works of Lenin, Marx and some Dimitrov, as it was in still communist Bulgaria.
In a desperate need to fill my nerdish brains with any written information, instead of rolling in the dust under the blazing sun, I found that my intellectual mother has brought with her a recently published, for the first time in Russian, Nausea. Needless to say, Sartre is not the best reading for the underaged. But as he was a newcomer to our shores, nobody was aware of it. So I plunged into the existential hell accompanied by the chicken cackle and cicadas heard through the window.
Upon reading the 50th page I felt quite bad. By the page 70 I was definately ill. Nauseate, to be precise. When it was obvious, that I'll vomit in a minute, I ran to the shack pretending to be a closet (definately not a water-closet), and threw up. While doing so I understood that the enemy (Sartre, possibly) attacked from behind as well, as the specific feeling of a diarrhea was growing. Cursing the French I had to turn around, and continue emptying my intestines. And turning again. And again.
I spent three days in bed, taking rounds in the shaky toilet. Haven't read Sartre since. Don't think ever will. No need. I know him by my err.. stomach.
(Fri 8th Jan 2010, 21:15, More)
» Petty Sabotage
well, we called that sabotage
while it was not. With a gang of guys in mid-90s we made our way on top of a 4 storey tower with a flagpost, dominating a busy crossroad in Moscow (i mean 6+6 lanes in one street and 3+3 the other, just for the scale) and hung there the anarchy flag (black with a red star in the middle). it survived a day, i think. If we did it today we'd probably go in jail, but then it was harmless.
(Sat 7th May 2005, 12:34, More)
well, we called that sabotage
while it was not. With a gang of guys in mid-90s we made our way on top of a 4 storey tower with a flagpost, dominating a busy crossroad in Moscow (i mean 6+6 lanes in one street and 3+3 the other, just for the scale) and hung there the anarchy flag (black with a red star in the middle). it survived a day, i think. If we did it today we'd probably go in jail, but then it was harmless.
(Sat 7th May 2005, 12:34, More)
» How I Skive Off Work
in the good ol' days
when the office i worked for was on a modem conn to the net, we were going out to the nearby azeri cafe for our lunch, indulging in a big bowl of lamb broth and warm bread with greens.
needless to say that later after an hour of tiresome drafting the brain was deciding that it's enough.
so i was getting use of that super comfortable and expensive Steelcase office chair i was sitting on - making it as low as possible, releasing the back, driving close to the table, to let the hands reside on the keyboard and da mouse, et voila - i was deep sleeping, while looking utterly concentrated on my monitor. 40 minutes was my record, before the boss realised i was not answering her questions.
(Mon 2nd May 2005, 21:32, More)
in the good ol' days
when the office i worked for was on a modem conn to the net, we were going out to the nearby azeri cafe for our lunch, indulging in a big bowl of lamb broth and warm bread with greens.
needless to say that later after an hour of tiresome drafting the brain was deciding that it's enough.
so i was getting use of that super comfortable and expensive Steelcase office chair i was sitting on - making it as low as possible, releasing the back, driving close to the table, to let the hands reside on the keyboard and da mouse, et voila - i was deep sleeping, while looking utterly concentrated on my monitor. 40 minutes was my record, before the boss realised i was not answering her questions.
(Mon 2nd May 2005, 21:32, More)
» Near Death Experiences
When I was almost permanently high
ten years ago we were hangin' out at this guy's place which was on top of a high ribver bank. So we finished another joint and went for a ..erm.. walk. There was a nice winding footpath to the bottom of the slope (it was, say 25 meters/75 feet high) but we decided it'd be better to have furious run straight downwards. So we ran. That was a speed! The slope was really steep..
so i stumbled over some root - and oops - I'm flying! Yeah! I flew for may be 8 meters, but then the gravity won and I fell down. Shite! my head stroke ground some 30 cm from a piece of concrete. I rolled couple of times, and soon stood up just to find out that i haven't broke anything. That was close..
(Wed 1st Dec 2004, 14:56, More)
When I was almost permanently high
ten years ago we were hangin' out at this guy's place which was on top of a high ribver bank. So we finished another joint and went for a ..erm.. walk. There was a nice winding footpath to the bottom of the slope (it was, say 25 meters/75 feet high) but we decided it'd be better to have furious run straight downwards. So we ran. That was a speed! The slope was really steep..
so i stumbled over some root - and oops - I'm flying! Yeah! I flew for may be 8 meters, but then the gravity won and I fell down. Shite! my head stroke ground some 30 cm from a piece of concrete. I rolled couple of times, and soon stood up just to find out that i haven't broke anything. That was close..
(Wed 1st Dec 2004, 14:56, More)