Posted June 12, 2010 at 8:06 am

Un moment perdu

and so it grabs me
this unspoken longing;
although i have studiously avoided
naming it lately, and
it has been dormant and acquiescent
suddenly it is right here
in my chest
fighting every breath I take.

I know it's only for tonight;
the blue evening beckons
and I need no anesthetic
because I have learned to welcome
this pain of being alive
and wanting, somehow
to forever be a part of you.

It is the trick, isn't it
to love without holding
to sing without a sound
and be without attachment.
But there is air in my lungs
even though it doesn't feel at all
like I am breathing
because I inhaled a long time ago
and you are the breath
I am still holding in.

(eik, 2010)

Posted June 11, 2010 at 12:27 pm

men, men

When my mom says: 'they just don't make them the same they used to' and I heartily disagree with her – because, after all, I must defend my generation somehow.. maybe she is right?? See below, courtesy of Mystic Medusa

painting by James Tissot

Prospect magazine explains that Burnaby was one of the most celebrated people of the Victorian era:

“…Burnaby is almost totally forgotten, but in his day he was so famous that the Queen reportedly fainted at news of his death. The Times gave him a 5000-word obituary. Grown men broke down and wept in the street.

…It is easy to see why. Burnaby’s exploits make Rambo look wet. Few people have survived frostbite, typhus, an exploding air balloon, and poisoning with arsenic; explored Uzbekistan (where it was so cold, his beard froze solid and snapped off), led the household cavalry, stood for parliament, could speak seven languages, crossed the channel by hot air balloon, written a string of bestsellers, commanded the Turkish army, and founded Vanity Fair; all before his early death aged 42.

Immensely strong, with a 48-inch chest, Burnaby could break a horseshoe apart with his bare hands. His party trick was to bend a poker double round a dull dinner guest’s neck. Most famously, when fellow officers coaxed a pair of ponies into his room for a jape, Burnaby simply picked them up—one under each arm—and carried them downstairs “as if they had been cats.”…”

Posted June 10, 2010 at 12:13 pm

Alchemy of the Dark of the Moon

Saturday is New Moon. yes, I follow moon phases, laugh at me all you will, if you must, but I do. My emotional sense of the world, the poetry, musicalizing and the dark-light-shadow essence of who I am also wanes and waxes with the moon sometimes, when I am not too entangled in wires, texts and screens.

And yesterday and today – and especially tomorrow – 'tis the Dark of the Moon, and old wounds and ghosts may come to the 'fore..

“Is that the one thing I still need to know?”

“No”, the alchemist answered. “What you still need to know is this: before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream. That’s the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one ‘dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon.’

“Every search begins with beginner’s luck. And every search ends with the victor’s being severely tested.” – Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist: A Fable About Following Your Dream

Posted June 10, 2010 at 11:53 am

machines

I am in love with this community project here, in L.A. and everything they do. It's called Machine Project.

Definitely going to try and make it to the Basement Wagner this weekend. And now I want to buy this, quite badly:

What is it? It's a musical soldering kit.

Posted June 10, 2010 at 10:55 am

it is official

I can't drink wine. Big sigh. I had two glasses of white wine last night – while at dinner – and this morning my head is fuzzy, achy and my energy levels are not anywhere near where they normally are.

Now that I am also off coffee for a while, this makes for a rather non-bohemian existence. Hmmm… well, maybe I can get up to trouble in other ways. But seriously, the rejection of alcohol by my body is pretty vocal and noticeable. I wish I could ignore it, but with all the singing and responsibility coming my way in the upcoming months, I simply cannot. And there you have it. The Russian Who Does Not Drink At All.

How am I going to get by when I go back to Moscow for a vacation??