tired in evening

Voglio trovare un senso a questa sera
Anche se questa sera un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a questa vita
Anche se questa vita un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a questa storia
Anche se questa storia un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a questa voglia
Anche se questa voglia un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a questa situazione
Anche se questa situazione un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a questa condizione
Anche se questa condizione un senso non ce l’ha

Voglio trovare un senso a tante cose
Anche se tante cose un senso non ce l’ha

Sai che cosa penso
Che se non ha un senso
Domani arriverà...
Domani arriverà lo stesso
Senti che bel vento
Non basta mai il tempo
Domani un altro giorno arriverà...

this foto made in Rome. next to ANSA - the biggest journalistic agensy in Italy. i was crying out loud that one can observe my future here. like it's possible. i never believe words. i dont believe even my words. "but u know that it's easy for me to find u a job as a journalist in Italy". may be. i'm not so sure. but just words create our worlds. may be, they create future, my mom used to tell. but i'm too afraid of words and too afraid of tomorrow.

today, returning home, i thought how can i just face the next day? i dont want a single word. please.

don't tell me

U tell me life is rather plant thing? It's like a weird diagram. U're repulsive at the moment and the most dear ever next minute.

does the fact that u love me mean that u hate me? yes.

Hot was on ur skin. What do u think about it? Hurtful. I'll do myself too. We both know the feeling. Wine to face. What now?! Scream! Wine and water, wine and candles, face up, burns on ur tender belly, ur clothes is absolutely wet, u're under the water, under wine, under ur life itself.

This meeting the heart of universe will keep forever, I told before.

... и я пришла домой, и легла спать, задыхаясь от боли...

after ... nights

It turned out to be that again and again I try to explain one difference exiting - lover and friend.
I try to explain it to lover and to friend.

2 ways - 2 ways just possible. This person is ur life and this person goes along with his own life. But why, why ur friend is so dear to u - just because of his identity, his personality, his own way he does, his experience, his thoughts, his dreams, his past and his future. It's simple. His life.
Life of ur lover almost doesn't exist. U want his life be urs. And ur life be his one. If u friend just disappeared for 4 years and turned out to be on Barbados with his new bride - u will wait for him. U will have ur 4 years. May be incredibly boring. Terrible. Just bad. But it was ur years. U just always know he exists. And then ur friend would come back - may be suddenly. Darken ur doors one morning. U're happy, aren't u.
Would u ever let ur lover disappear on 4 years. Would u ever let him back?

One more thing, understanding of what I keep inside but that obviously i can't epxlain. Love can demand strong, love can means just demanding. But sometimes love means - wishing deeply - from the bottom of u heart - just wishing the person u love - be happy.
Maem, I so want u to be happy.

I exuse for my dissapearings, my aloofness, detachment, my rudeness. Try to allow me this way too. I can disappear when I fall in love. I can disappear when I rebuild my Universe. I can disappear if I think it's the only way. If I'm happy. If I'm unhappy. Wait for me. Otherwise - what the whole sense in our lives along each other?

in capital

when brazilian dancer sit with girls and sing loudly and beautifully russian songs from the old time, when details of history of USSR i'm told by italian student, when the cell phone of that irish?! - guy is sounded with national russian ditty, french girl is studing russian 9 years just for itself and in internet i hear american reading me Mandelstam from another part of the world - i realise that this world got mad - and i'm in the core of this madness -

keep on talking/ about moka

- I burned my moka. i just burned it. all the parts you can burn in moka i did. i just wonder what the hell to do now?
- Once my moka exploded in the kitchen. buum! all the upper part flied up and stuck on the ceiling. it stayed there couple of weeks may be.actually moka is so famous about that you can make a bomb of it. you never will allowed to bring it to prison.

... и всё, чем я увлекалась, и все, кем я увлекалась, вдруг показалось мне так пошло, так низко...

Now history hasn't got such socio-political beau-ideals as it used to have. Which were subjugated thoughts, senses, hearts. From this point of view the history just ended.
I was telling it, passing Red Square.
No, - this historic guy said. -history goes like in wave way. Now it's just wave down. People doing nothing, thinking about nothing, just waiting for a next peak.

shop entertaiment/ Helsinki

have u hemlet. indiferent nation? who cares. have ur hemlet and scream. u know better.

impossible to translate

Пока еще нет музыки,
и клавиши не трогают рассеяные руки,
но только боль настроишь и расстравишь -
польются звуки.

Пока еще ты в хаосе открытий
блуждающих, разрозненных вслепую,
но ты уже участник, а не зритель
игры в "рискую".

Пока еще октябрь - в строке начала
но для него - две-три твои страницы...
Пока еще вся жизнь не прозвучала
есть повод - сбыться...

different ways

so mom told me there are several orgasm u can feel. to think there is just physical one - weird. what u feel now can be named as intellectual orgasm. another one - psyhological orgasm is also familiar for u. to expierence just physical one - weird.

with Mark story - to be told...

good to know...

and we asked him:
- And what u, in America, think about Russa, about russian people. i mean all these stereotipes, and what do u know generlly about us, about our history..
-Well... - he seemed to be confused. - well acually..to tell honestly... we in America just do not think about Russia

let us be back, let us be free

The most beautiful and the most right description Lubitsch’s comedies – its comparison with sparkling wine, expensive fizz in high graceful glass. Let us not forget that in cinema they often use open bottle of fizz as a symbol of sex and, yes, Lubitsch’s comedies are uncommonly sexy, but in its unique, keen, refined way: Lubitsch shows everything, showing nothing.

But for me Design for Living, 1933, in the crack of down, wasn’t just a film of genius director. The first touch of Dreamers, not just a topic, but feeling were there. I followed these 2 guys and girl in costumes of 30th and realized they just put it of for naked Bertolucci scenes where he just could be more sincere, more vulgar, less slave of time and morals and the same sensitive in creating tension between people.

So may be Schopenhauer was right telling that there is no history – just the same (mostly sanguinary) play where actors just change costumes. Just one eternal dream.

when u can't look a day forward

- I think we do right thing. -Good for our nerves.
- Good for our eternal souls.
-Bad for our stomachs.
- Not a fact.

When I think about each of us I think of maze. Maze with heavy sky over our heads where we try to paint crazy pictures on the walls. Imaging backgrounds and logic. Is there a way out of maze? Could be. But we’re to busy with thinking out rules of the world and way not to lead it. We don’t wanna be good. And afraid of being bad. Or contrary. Sometimes I think that we try too hard, connection is too deep and every touch can hurt. I’ve got my own painted walls in theirs mazes. The brightest, the most complicated, which I want to destroy or keep forever, hate or love the most. Like myself, like maze of mine.

there is a long time already when i just answer: i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i don't know why. that's just what i feel. and i wanna be sincere to u.

that the only thing we can do for another person. be sincere.

- Yes, we’ve made a gentleman agreement. But unfortunately – I’m not among gentlemen…

(and dialogs are from Lubitsch film of course...)

trouble in paradise

"Trouble in Paradise," directed by Ernst Lubitsch and written by Samson Raphaelson (based on a play by Aladar Laszlo), is not the funniest or deepest American romantic comedy. Both those honors go to Preston Sturges' "The Lady Eve." Nor is it the wildest -- that would be Sturges again, with "The Palm Beach Story." And for the sweetest and most graceful, you'd have to look to another Lubitsch-Raphaelson collaboration, "The Shop Around the Corner." But in both attitude and execution it remains the perfect distillation of bemused, offhand elegance. It would be 43 years before American movies produced another comedy as sophisticated, with "Shampoo." (The other leading candidates -- Ingmar Bergman's "Smiles of a Summer Night" and Clare Peploe's "Triumph of Love" -- are European.)

t's a movie that feels both of its time and ahead of all the times that have followed. You can imagine '30s audiences experiencing it as another of the delights that Hollywood routinely delivered in that decade -- a decade, as far as movies are concerned, far more sophisticated than our own. But today, this film's blithe attitude toward love and sex and infidelity is strikingly, gloriously out of tune with the moralism of contemporary American movies.

..Much of the pleasure of Gaston's dedication to Madame Colet comes from seeing the elegant Marshall allow himself to be turned into that most seducible of creatures -- the man in thrall to a woman's erotic presence…

The way he look, he behave, he touch, he speak. U feel this light wonderful tension between these 2 heroes even sitting ur room here through the time. They are witty and self-considered, elegant and flirty, they re so much different from ur life u can watch this film again and again, wishing every second lost in this time…cut ur hairs, put on long thin dress, small bag in hands, shawl over shoulders and meet there Marshall himself to start ur perfect graceful love intrigue.

- It could've been marvellous.
– Wonderful.
– Divine.

have a good year, have a good Moscow, Fei...

before Snow came

So that was 1 pm, I was sitting in that small restaurant and thinking – is it too early for my glass of wine?
Strange week that was. I felt tired. Blue. And I wanted to write. Like I used to do. I opened laptop and without hesitating ordered my wine.
Like whole week I did.
Missing may be something. – like capoeira lessons…
They came to me there. Were sitting in front. I was crying and laughing. When ur life is just correcting – u may do whatever u want.
We will go and get drunk in House of Composers, I said.
Early that was – 5 pm?
I finished my story there. Couple of years I didn’t finish any of that novels. And today I did.
Get drunk with fizz in House of Composers.
Old black-and-white films and destiny are the best conversation topics.
Then u will drink coffee in office which used to be ur den, as he told. And then sing sing and sing in the Red Square in the night under last rain.
Last rain before Snow came.
Dark wooden table, hands holding and glihtwein. Let us go home. In the morning u’ve got ur plane. U had to leave day ago. Why it was cancelled? have a good flight, I ll give u a hug when u leave and we will keep on sleeping with that confusing dreams till the middle of the day. Snow covers u like a blanket. U will sleep anyway. I came home and in the night had my last for these 2 days glass of wine.

listening to the rain

Moscow has its own time. Which South never know. Niпре in South comes fast. Just fall down on Earth. In Russia it’s coming so slowly. So tender. Owl-light. Twilight. We even have special verb – “sit in the gloaming”. But that’s not I wanted to write about. Just that light evening – is so beautiful time in Moscow streets. Sky is down and deep. It’s seems to fall down to streets and to flood everything in Blue.

Once in this early summer evening we were running along Tverskaya street. It was raining. It was pouring rain! heavy shower, downpour, cloud-burst! We were sunning up to street till somewhere I just hided in telephone box. We hided together. 3 of us. We were staying there – absolutely wet and absolutely happy. And at some moment Fei just took out a … cigar. From Spain it was. Some foreign old man (who was passing running) gave us a light. He stood there, though, in the next box, having his cigarette also. We were staying in silence, smoking slowly, watching rain near our faces.

Now rain is the same strong. But it just makes you sad a bit. Like somebody is always crying out next to u. and u’re so sorry about it. You’re so sorry but what can you do?

means let you go

I feel maem. I feel maem so much and so deep under my skin that when he is driving I му got a feeling that I drive myself.

You can't forbid me to love u. - he said. - and to miss u. and to jealous u. and to wait u.
I will.
You know.
I will.

and i feel so logical now. i came back to my state whech i used to. i'm person on my own. and i like it.

никогда до конца не пройти мне тебя

Arbat – not a street which changing people notice. Wanna notice. It’s still a street of beginning and middle of centure, it’s still a street of artists, of writers, it’s still a street we walked up so much, we read so much. It’s a street with old yellow lights and unique atmosphere. People love Arbat so much they write it down in poems and on it’s walls.
I write so much about Arbat too.

When day was ending I was slowly passing Arbat. I overheard. Kitchen, tarins, fairplaces and Arbat are still places where Russian can have their metaphysic philosophy conversations:

- he doesn’t believe in God, he is atheist. But Marx and Engels are Gods for him. Ok, I got it with Engels, but Marx?!...

- U’re here but there is no u here. We disappear so much from the very moment, leaving body without consciousness, that I think unwittingly – where ur consciousness hanged about during all ur life…

- I tell u, that Ethiopia is African alter-ego of Russia! even time there is Moscow one. And Vitte dreamed to join it to Russia. And... what to say, they ve got the same problems with roads!

- Who told u that everything gonna be fine?

- To believe everything that going on - u have to be absolutely fool…

May be u will have ur answers here? Hugo told time he spent just sitting on piazzas and watching people, the most wonferful and useful in his life. That were the most wonderful and useful of my day, though…

to Fontain - from Fontain

I walked up Fontain de Trivoli along with taciturn Chinese guy. May be we had loads of common. But he didn’t speak English. We walked together ‘cause we walked in the same way already couple of hours. He accompanied with his map. Me… with my open-toed shoes. And absent head. I was smelling, tasting, feeling this the hub of the universe. And we both were da solo. With nobody. So we met at some point. Admired in silence about another Rome miracle. And kept on walking together.

I get used about taciturn Chinese men. In Bangkok he introduced me Chinese Block – and left me in silence on the floor of the temple. So now I felt calm and free. I was turning to side streets, I was straying, touching walls and glancing in windows. I confused Chinese guy with his straight road lined in his map, but patiently he followed me, sometimes touching the walls where I touched them. I couldn’t help but laughing, remembering the group of Chinese tourists one by one making photo of me – waiting Claudio in the rock church in Helsinki - and one by one they mumbled – very beautiful – and showed me thumb-up.
By the way – I even can count Chinese.

In silence we were staying among more then crowd of tourists just watching The Fontain. 5, may be 50 minutes. Then I explain that I will stay here. And he can go.

The miraculous thing there – the water. Absolutely transparent and tender green. U wanna touch it. U wanna feel it. U wanna watch it. Mary told her dream was to swim there in the night. be leaded to police then. And call her family. I’m in Rome, mom. In police. Yes. ‘cause I was swimming in De Trivoli.

With Jorj we started to talk absolutely imperceptibly. I don’t remember the first phrase. Pilot he was. One day in Rome. Where do u go in Rome if u have just a day? To drink coffee, to eat ice cream and pasta. I knew places. Julity, tazza d’oro and piazza Navona. Jorj was stunning smart. And stunning romantic. At 18 he tried plane for the first time – without any case. And then he could do nothing else. He talked about plane and sky. And I was looking at perfect Roman sky – deep high and blue. U never see such a sky. It’s just here.

- so u have wifes in every country – I asked seriously.
- No – he laughed – just one.
- And how long?
- 19 years.
- But… how old are u?!
- 47. my dauther is 18.

I have now her contacts. He talked much about her. She must me wonderful girl. Jorj was the smartest and the youngest person I ever met. After perfect dinner on piazza I went to some meeting with some Emiliano. And that evening changed my Rome.

u didnt notice.

...may be i just stayed as confused about life.2 years ago i was a bit different. as they say - u re changing every day - every second. u veer notice that. and if u stay with somebody - u never notice. may be some person from 2 years ago will come now and will fucking surprise what i hvae done with myself and with my life. someone who was with me all this time couldn t realise that. may be i just stayed as confused about life.
what the hell u want from ur life?! every day u ask this question urself and people around u. i the hell dont know. i dont really care what this big Media Boss is thinking about me. amy be i will call him on Tuesday. if i m ready to call undeer him and if that - what i the hell want now.

reading Mann

Oн был одним из самых больших, самых смелых, самых выдающихся писателей немецкого языка, драматургом, не имеющим себе равных, вообще не имеющих себе равных. совершенно единичным, выпадабщим из всякого лада и ряда, радикальным в увлеченности своими эксцентричными сюжетами до безумия, до истерии, - глубоко, однако, несчастным; изнуренный требованиями, которые он к самому себе предъявлял, он боролся за невозможное, то и дело сваливался он душевных недугов и был обречен на раннюю смерть...
... он покончил с собой, устав от своего несовершенства, в метафизическом стремлении бросить свою фрагментальную индивидуальность в мировое пространство, чтобы оно, может быть, сотворило из нее что-то более совершенное.

прочитав эти слова Томаса Манна о Клейсте, я чуть не разрыдалась. но может ли пространство сотворить что-нибудь хоть в малейшей степени соврешенное? что-нибудь, что не кричало бы и не вопило бы от боли осознания себя - несоврешенным?


...he closed his own days, being so tired of his own imperfection, in metaphisic effort to throw his fragmentary individuality into world space for it to create - may be - something more perfect.

reading these words by Tomas Mann about Kleist i hardly helped myself not to break into sobs. but whether space can create something not in the list perfect. something that wouldn't cry out, scream out being hurted with a perception of it's own imperfection?

20 years old.

Fey made a present for her own birthday. Leaving for Barselona. Just suddenly. Just now.

wonderful maze

copies instead

in the middle of Moscow, in the middle of the day (that day in the middle of september) - i was trying to come back to Italy.

i had Roman Holiday. these perfect black-and-white images which unite already 4th time for me in a perfect movie. i was drinking wine. a glass of red home wine.

in university i couldn't help but ordered esspresso. keeping in mind the esspresso mashine (0.30 euro) in Bologna University i pationtly was waiting for my coffe in the break. cofee was bitter and strong.

can u be happy with such a fakes?

i was. and i felt absolutely perfect Blue.

late back. one simple conversation.

- guarda... ho gia trovato i biglietti per Roma da 60 euro. penso per aprile...
- ma e' bellissimo. prenotagli.
- no, non prenotare. solo comprare o non comprare...
- comprare.

So easy. some things are so easy. i realised it when i met Mark in front of the flat of my first host in Helsinki.i saw Henrik just in the evening - after absolutely crazy perfect whirleful day in this tiny town with Mark. i kept on realising it in Sweden - under cold sun and among cold blood. but i didnt meet any swedish person there. so my days were full of south. and then it was Bologna. and then - Rome. i know that this simplisity i can feel just through my young heart. and i almost know that so soon my life will have walls and i will burn in the hellish fire of dificulties (may be mostly made on my own). i will be the perfect Danto hero in my own forest of doubds.
it's always a bit more easily or a bit more dificult.
but now i can believe in beauty and wonders, in eyes and tenderness, in smile and whisper, in first meeting and last kiss, in night screams and night tears...

i didn't buy that tickets. but i will.