Wednesday, 28 September 2011

Where did it go wrong?

I listened to Chomsky today. He was talking about the wage slavery. It's amazing how much of our world view is actually mere conditioning, not the objective truth. Now everyone is convinced that working for wages is something normal and obvious, but it wasn't so obvious one, two, three hundred years ago.
I'm fully convinced that we (humanity) had a good chance of creating something sensible. Enlightment gave us such wanderful ideas of personal freedom and its meaning. Then in the beginning of XX century something got seriously fucked up, and we never recovered, never got back on the right track.

That little Indian shop...

The scientists determined:
1. Your eyes get infected first.
2. Then your tongue starts to secrete excessive saliva.
3. You try to control your mind, but you can’t help – you have to enter the shop. And four pieces are bare minimum (sometimes it's 5, 6, may be even 10, if you are suicidal).
4. When devouring, you have to be fast. If your are too slow, you might get nauseous too early and hence not be able to finish your treat.
5. The rapture lasts about 30 – 60 seconds.
6. Then you start to feel queasy. If you are not an idiot, you knew it was going to happen, so you are prepared – bottle of cold water will be of a great help.
7. If you are an idiot (here I am), you don’t have any water (and any change left to buy one), which means you are doomed to suffer sore throat and wooziness for about a half an hour (up to an hour).
8. At this point you know you will never have sugar again. Never.
9. Then you get better. Give yourself a couple of days before walking Vesterbrogade again.

Sunday, 25 September 2011

A XIX century person

I'm a XIX century person. Seriously. This XXI century nonsense gives me a headache, nothing more.
Just imagine:
- You could calligraph beautiful letters on the paper and send it with a servant on the horse.
- You could believe in ghosts and no one would laugh.
- You could smoke tobacco and not to worry about the lung cancer.
- You could spend a night in an ancient Inn and exchange old tales with fellow travellers.
- You could meet a lady, fall in love, order a painting of her, and then look at it in the evenings by the candle light, drinking amontillado.
- You could speak French.
- You could find out that there is a curse put on you family.
- You could find in an old book the way to counteract that curse.
- In the course of that you could discover that your old servant is actually a spy of a secret society.
Ah, the beautiful, old days!

Indian Summer in Copenhagen

The sunniest day this fall (and probably this summer as well). Since my camera is the crappiest thing in the world, I decided to over-use photoshop a little. I hope it hasn't come too tacky.

* * *

This is funny - first I saw it on youtube this morning when I looked up the Danish history docummentaries, and then few hours later I stumbled upon this poster. I like those pointless synchronicities.

Der mini-Steppenwolf enjoying a Sunday walk (dammit - from behind my ears are sticking out even more then en face!)

Assistents Kierkegård, view from Nørrebrogade - my favorite graveyard. Not gloomy at all, nice place for a picnic or general chill out.

Ancient Aztec city discovered on Nørrebrogade.

So much light today! The city was suffused with sunshine. At last!

The view from Dronning Louises Bro. Algae look like little islands on the Pacific. Don't they?

Wow! Gods, Sphinx, Cupids, angels, everything...

Copenhagen postcard 1

Copenhagen postcard 2

If you dig deep enough where will it get you? Better stop peeling!

Copenhagen doors (to perception)

The first two on the left are from my town! I'm so proud:)

Neil Gaiman style

* * *

And that's it. It was a nice walk. I wish I could take pictures of people, but I'm too shy to do that. I tried, but then I felt like a stalker. For example this girl was so lovely, but when I was trying to get a shot I could almost hear people thinking - "what a pervert, he takes a photo of her neat bottom!". Too much stress;)

Saturday, 24 September 2011

Peculiar but lovely idea

One of my friends posted a link on facebook which inspired me with an idea. The link was about subscribing to surprise gifts sent to you by post every month. Interesting and cute initiative (even if it costs 12 quid per month).
But then it came to me – all the time I’m waiting for something good happening to me, people offering me something – good vibes, love, friendship. And it is always about me getting something – never about giving. So why not to try changing this tendency? Turn the mind around and instead of waiting, make something happening?
The idea is this – Copenhagen is a mine of old, lovely, cheap crap. There are flea markets at every corner. I know lot of lovely people (everyone is lovely deep inside in one or another way:). I’m earning money at last - I'll see my first pay-cheque in a week! I can start sending people small gifts. I know it’s out of blue and it may seem weird to many, but why not? Wouldn’t I be happy to see a postman with a small package for me, with a silly comic book from ‘50s, old fashioned doll with mysterious face expression, circus poster, weird coin, vintage nude postcard, worn out tarot deck, a feather from angel’s wing (even if it’s a goose’s one)? Would I care if it’s odd? Not really. I can attach a small letter to it, written in an old style, sharing few thoughts, events. It can be my rebelion against internetized, impersonal social interactions.
Fuck it, I’m going to do that.

The street is quiet

I’m here. It’s a dark night, few pale stars are looking down at the glowing city, one of the windows down there is mine. The morning is close. Listening to songs in a foreign language, but I don’t really care, I just like the energy and sound of it. I know it’s about the truth, freedom and anger. I like it. Maybe I can start to think about reactivating my anarchist e-zin. I’m trying to find some new identities, but actually I’ve already got some I’m ok with. A truth-seeker, activist. I just have to go deeper.

Tss, tss, tss,
The street is quiet,
as quiet as my head,
as quiet as my heart
at least tonight,
my gorgeous.

When I try to wear
postmodernist suit
I look funny,
I look like a fool.
Better to taste real ideas,
get strength from pure values,
look inside,
where real peace lays.
At least this night,
my adorable girl.

The world out there
goes into pieces,
politicians, serious issues,
wars, false idols,
silly jokers in uniforms,
bad poetry, good intentions,
but I’m ok
at least for now,
my sweet darling.

Monday, 19 September 2011

Disaster strikes

My better half is not dumb so eventually she figured out it was just the chain. Still for a moment there I thought she hit the deer or fell from the bridge.

Thursday, 15 September 2011

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Tough job

I'm still reading "The Road Less Travelled". It's terrifying to realize how much of ourselves - our vision of the world, God, people, etc. is conditioned by the first contact with this material plane - I mean childhood. For many years it is our microcosmos and it would be reckless to think that it doesn't make us who we are now.
The positive thing is, that once we get it, we may actually start to rebuild the world we perceive and begin to see it as it is (or can be), not as we think it is. Still, it's a tough job.
Just a thought for today.

Sunday, 11 September 2011

To believe or not to believe?

In spite of appearances I'm not encouraging here to couldn't-give-a-damn attitude. I believe (oh, that faith again!) in the experiential spiritual life. And I distaste fanaticism and bigotry, no matter if it is the religious or atheistic one. I've encountered both and they are equally annoying;)

Saturday, 10 September 2011

Those nostalgic idiots

Today I've watched Midnight in Paris by Woody Allen. It really cheered me up, a lovely movie, I felt like all the problems got lifted for a moment. The cartoon came out of it (I'm not sure, but it may be a kind of a spoiler, but I hope it's not revealing too much;)

* * *


I always promise myself I wont write when I'm down, but then I do it anyway. And I come out as a stupid whiner.

What’s up? Nothing new, the same old story for the last few months - I am fed up with myself, so fucking fed up. I used to be happy inside. Not complacent but just happy. I knew who I was, valued myself, accepted my situation and tried making the best use of it.
I was proud of my open-mindedness, spiritual background, budding talents, loving beautiful women by my side, freedom.

What’s left? Not much. I don’t like myself anymore, feel locked in the place way too small for me, I just want to be someone else – someone who is more grounded, serene, peaceful, satisfied with the things that come by itself, accepting life as it is, enjoying little pleasures, feeling the presence of guardian spirits (God, if you will), playing cards with my love, having a beer with my brothers, reading some old SF novel without feeling that I’m wasting my time, hiking in the mountains near my hometown and feel refreshed and easy instead of lonely and alienated in the company of nature.
What else? It’s not that bad if I still can recall…

I remember sleigh party, crackling cold, bright moon, thousands of stars, laughing friends, singing, icy wind throwing snow at my face, existing just in the present. Wonderful feeling. Or sitting by the fireplace in my room, just before Christmas, with lights off, flames reflecting on the walls, listening to Cranberries and smoking cigarettes, not worrying even for a second about the cancer. Or writing a poem just for myself, not feeling the need to show it to anyone, to get recognition (or stupid “like” on facebook. Wow, life before internet!;). Or walking with my sweetheart in the evening to find an open shop, so we could get a can of cola and chewing gum for our last money. Or playing chess with my father while peeking at some old detective series in our small television set in the kitchen. Or trying to pray silently before dawn, watching darkness of the night turning into grey and then golden day, feeling small and looked after.

Yes, I do remember all those states of mind. It means that I’m not fucked up by default. So what's happened?

Death's counsel

I'm reading "The Road Less Travelled" by M. Scott Peck. This is really good stuff, makes you to rethink your life a lot. I like this passage:

"With death's counsel, the constant awarness of the limit of our time to live and love, we can always be guided to make the best use of our time and live life to the fullest. But if we are unwilling to fully face the fearsome presence of death on our left shoulder, we deprive ourselves of its counsel and cannot possibly live or love with clarity."

Monday, 5 September 2011

Jaya Radhe!

Today is the birthday of the very important Goddess in the spiritual tradition I chose long time ago. So happy birthday and please, bestow your blessings on all. Jaya Radhe!

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Internationale Dage - Taste the World

I went to have a look at the food festival in Rantzausgade. Bit too crowdy and too noisy for me (what a stiff I am!), or I just wasn't in the right mood. I walked couple of times back and forth, stopped for a moment to see the playback performance of dancing (butt shaking) girls, smelled fried fish (dribbling immensly) and eventually I decided that I must be a creature of the night, enjoying silence, subtle emotions and thoughtful conversations, not this tawdry entertainment.
God, I really sound like a stiff, don't I?

* * *

It’s a nice day. The summer decided to stay couple of days longer. I was in work today, but something was not right in the restaurant, so they sent us home. I took some food (chick pea stew and tofu cutlets), bottle of Chardonnay, my sketchbook, notebook, music, and so I went to explore my favourite city.
As always I’m open for the new people. Sitting in the park (graveyard actually) I read a book – spiritual emergency is my main thread lately – drink wine, eat toffee in chocolate and smile to passer-by’s like an idiot.


What’s so extraordinary about this city that makes me to resonate with it so much? Nothing spectacular happened here for me so far, no real friends, love, adventures, anything. And yet everyday when I go to the streets of Copenhagen I feel something magical is about to happen. It never does and yet I feel it strongly. At times it reaches the pick. Few times when I was cycling around listening to music, the experience of something inexpressible was so strong, that I almost cried. Like flying.
There is still this lack of satisfaction, like some very important element is missing, but I have the impression there is nothing to be worried about – it will come.


Ok, let’s get back to the planet Earth.

1. The first week of work behind me. Not easy but it enhances the taste of the free time. I value it much more now.
2. Still drawing and still having fun with it.
3. Funny enough, after few days of hard work in the restaurant my knee stopped to hurt. Maybe the hardcore work is the solution for all my problems? (Just kidding).

Saturday, 3 September 2011


There was a British chap, his name was Martyn.
he said the life with his wife made him a martyr.
To punish himself even more
he became a chef – what a bore.
He should know better. And be smarter.

There was Anna, this very classy girl.
She loved the vintage art, and her hair was curled.
She ended up in the kitchen,
(you do not go there to freshen),
oh merciful God, now she must twirl and whirl.

Anton, the man who knew lot of stuff -
though you were never sure what’s true and what’s bluff.
He was a chef most of his life
(poor, poor, poor his lovely wife).
Fortunately he was still sweet – not rough.

There was a lady, Bettina was her name.
She wanted a restaurant – no one is to blame.
On the very first day the disaster struck,
and on the second too, on the third as well.
But that brave women was still in the game.

There was this guy… I mean myself,
I wasn’t really sure if I’m a dwarf or elf.
One day I was unemployed,
felt like living in the void,
then I became a chef, should I kill myself?