revelation

One should not forget about certain things. And thus, one should write.

NYC, I love you (NYC trilogy)

NYC I

One of the starry night came
and left
enough to be remembered

NYC II

Rain in that dingy NYC
perplexes all the muscles
of my pondering
and it does not stop
it plays
it strolls
it reigns
over our neighborhood  

NYC III

Once in your life
thank and say
"Oh, I am in NYC,
the city of freedom.
(and I am not even
a writer.")

Encounter I

I believe in non-random encounters. Not fully understanding what causes the unbelievable circumstance to happen, but certainly it involves at least two elements. You and me.

Every day, I walk to supermarket to get fresh strawberry lemonade, fruit and salad to extinguish my thirst and hunger. Well, this is supposedly the conscious, voluntary movement of my thoughts, but walking and wondering is a secondary satisfaction to it. For years, working in NYC at the Upper West Side, I see and walk around outside book vendors, stopping by, rummaging through books, enjoying the use-ness of the books, pondering about the story how did the books ended up at the street. I come to the book collection, making quick eye contact with the vendors, not ready at all to converse. But last Wednesday one of the vendors, which I have seen as a vendor for a long long time, has approached me. A man, probably 50 years old (although he might have just seem that way judging from his baldness and spare tooth-ness), shorter, grey hair, thick glasses, sharp, almost wolf-like teeth. I knew from the start that the conversation will not be short. And it wasnt.

I bought Siddharta, and wanted to buy second book, revealing : " A small book obsession, OCD". And here we started. He commenced by talking about his passion for books and his job allowing him reading time, giving him the opportunity to intereact with the people, with the world, but at the same time easily being detached, by separating the glance of the street, being sucked into the world of books. This man writes, I learned. He has published two books, some stories, some poetry. Well, interesting. He takes out his old, rusty, yellow paged notebook and with immense, he puts me right into his world, not little one. He reads passages of his observations, of human condition, he shares stories of everyday life. After reading several stories, I, realizing of how much has been going on in my head, and how much I have absorbed, have detached myself from the conversation thinking : " This man is writing one story right now, about our encouter."

Sleep takes me sometimes

Sleep takes me sometimes

To the lands where you

Make me diamonds

Those diamonds do not glitter

On the fingers or shelves

And give me fatigue

Sleep takes me sometimes

To the wastes where one

Can dream of sins

The sins make us all wander

If we should call ourselves

Almighty humans

I ask you often Take me

there! Where you dream

where your sleep takes you

I promise, I ll be good

Not to tread onto

Your little masquerade

(to be READ) carefully

as I was standing there
in the lines of all the unspoken words
and ideas worth-of-spreading
(maybe I was just full of those ideas)
and maybe just full of (wine)
I stood there, imprisoned in the sky
in skin-caressing midnight glory
I knew as it all dawned onto me
that we all function in process (un)willingly
we all ignite from ash and cease to ash

so dark you are
and I without condemnation
but with highly raised admiration
submerge myself into you claws,
allowing only your claws,
midnight sky (full of stars)

tuesday passed...

evening we spent dancing
i bore my face in your hair
i cannot recollect the smell
though i wish it so well

THERE.

Charlotte, the queen, the windmill of France

welcome. this is Charlotte. you must know her. I just spent an evening with her. Virtually.
A little pinky Frenchie with a lot of style of her own. Admiration. Listening. Tea drops on my palm. CHarlotte often fills my mornings with increasing amount of distance from everyday life. I just flow, float, follow her melodies.

Charlotte does not waste your time. Morning, evening, just a mere being becomes real. (beck comes along, their video- recommended).

A bit of energy. Morning arrives. Night waves goodbye. Try it. Now.

Goodnight. Voyage au bout de la nuit.

may it be

may it be
the pity of my eternal
colony of thoughts
you are there and here
but not HERE
stop colonizing
like the stranger

may you be
with cafe and thee
I dont care about bad poetry
It is my therapy (like a garden)

Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania: Indie Rock scene

This blog is devoted to exploring current indie rock/ rock scene in countries Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania. It was a rather arduous search, but also interesting, to virtually become a part of this world, that close to Slovak one, yet different. You might be able to feel the vibe floating in the tones, and beautiful usage of acordeon and native language used in many. I love when in today´s world English-governing musical lyrics, listening to language native to the groupmembers. Enjoy,

BAnds from LATVIA:

Sattelites LV

Robotplant

Guajarts the whole is available on http://www.gaujarts.lv/ I highly recommend listening to this album. It is refreshing, different, acordeon-based, sort of native sounding.

Karlis Kazaks the whole album : http://www.kazaks.lv/

Bands from ESTONIA:

Ewert and the Two Dragons

 

Erki Pärnoja

Popidiot (Estonian- Finnish)

Junk Riot

Bands from LITHUANIA:

The fly see  http://www.myspace.com/flymania

Gravel

Flamingo see also http://www.myspace.com/flamingoband

Colors of  bubbles see also http://www.myspace.com/coloursofbubbles

Mimi explores more of Scandinavia...via keynotes II

this is a music of great diversity, mostly Scandinavian indie rock, some soft rock, some with touch of electronica. some just mystical and transcendental. I just have a love and emotional bondage to Scandinavian music. enjoy.

kings of convenience

royksopp

lykke li

whitest boy alive 

koop

fever ray 

erlend oye

múm 

jónsi 

ane brun