Oxygen.

Starting with the rhythm of hip-hop and a skin-head guy rapping on the radio microphone. Talking hard. The composition number one says the title. “The Oxygen”.
The Oxygen – the dance of lungs. And the story goes on… about the girl from the big city and the boy from the provinces both called Sasha. Their love starts as usual sentimentally and suddenly noticing that lungs are dancing, the oxygen comes in bigger doses. Love in this case is compared to Oxygen – at least somebody made an alternative phrase of describing “Butterflies in Stomach”. And butterflies appear either in a few significant moments of the movie.
But the plot is more complicated than just love among two youngsters likely smoking weed in front of big monuments. The problem goes deeper, and for comparison the lack or either loads of “Oxygen” can cause all the biggest mistakes made by mankind. And examples are given in the next compositions of the movie. Full track contains 10 of them, covered in simple and easy discussion on present day topics skillfully using the elements that create the modern culture of the youth. Talking about Islamic countries, 11th September 2001, which was all made in name of big “love” (shown in videos of war and named as “LOVE PARADE”), and youth dependent on drugs, suffering either from big love or lack of it. The next composition called “Amnesia” tries to give one of the solutions – “Organize your brain clinical amnesia. Organize – I don’t remember anything, anything, anything…”
Movie is precisely describing the youth of the world, portraying the life of Russian example. The mixture of “Pump up the Volume”, “Trainspotting” and “Run Lola Run” scenes appear in the flow of pictures, taking the best part of it. Outstanding thinking, hippies running naked in the field of weed, rebels and all those who are in search for understanding in this world.
Ironic, containing delicious comparisons, excellent game of words, which touch, take and settle down in the memory. The above mentioned “Dance of Lungs”, “Provincial fur and fleas of big city”, “Heart in a shape of a big double-bed” and many others made by this hard talk of storytellers, alternating with visualization containing scenes of decelerated reality and as well impressive surrealism [e.g., girl walking on the moon in black gumboots decorated with colorful flowers, break-dance mixing with sound of broken glass].
The movie speaks to you and your conscience.
Organize your brain Amnesia and add some Oxygen!

The Shape of Music. Macedonia.

It rains. It makes situation complicated by itself. The feeling of hidding from something. Something undefined. Willing to wear gloves and hide the eyes under sunglasses, which accidentally I never had. Today it's raining.

I throw my imaginary paper planes into the storm. And look how they dance in the wind. So unbearable and tender paperwork. So desperately trying not to touch the ground.

I continue to read inspiring stories of my mates, who went to the world to find their Freedom [eventually and for eternity] like me. [Hot spots from Denmark] The cheerful plays with coffee-grounds in Turkish way, trying to imagine that the coffee [or what is left in a cup after one round of frivolous conversations at the round shape table] will whisper the secrets of inscrutable future paths. Hopefully it will. Just for fun. If the suitcase full of formulas of hereditary customs gained through the centuries were working few centuries ago, why should we doubt their power now?

But it's raining today. And there's time to think for a while. About the things that surprise and the things that scare. Seems weird, I'm already 2 weeks in the completely new environment, and I can't start write about the new cultural and social heritage, which meets me everyday as about something really WOOOW. I can't make lifestory about African refugees trying desperately to be the part of this European world [as I don't have Black guys around. And actually Spain is in another direction ;)] Culture shock don't live here. It went different direction. The only pleasant shock of my everyday view are mountains! Mountains... somewhere there, sleeping silently, watching everything from apart and remaining green. I wonder if they become yellow in the Fall season? [As they are mostly covered with trees.] Yeah, stupid question from the human being, who spent the most of his lifetime on flat land.

The touch of crying rose. And coffee in the cup shaped like music. Can You imagine the shape of music? [Like naked lady making slow moves, singing in the rain and going on barefoot. More to feel. The shape of music.] That's just a game of words. But the cup looked as a clef if you look from above. ;)

I had a chance during these 2 weeks of living [not existing] experience once more the Summer. And I was in love [since I came here]. How else You can explain the messing up with everything and that smile which never goes down? And the feeling of being inspiringly busy, creating loads of ideas, which have the real outcome [not just the list put in dark corner awaiting for better times.]

Darling, FUCK ME TWICE - I'm HOME! :)

Another Chance.

Little naive Girlie...
Can't forget that blind touch on her skin, which can't be understood neither "over"stood. The Touch in the dark. So deeply shy. Without any signs or explicit behavior. She thought it wouldn't be right. And that would be the wrong end, or was it the right start?

Un Coeur, S'il Vous Plaît.

Experts from French corner of the world telling that only musicians with licences can play music in Paris Underground, which they get, fairly winning in the official competition. The musical fight for legal being in eternal draught! [Amazing.] The source of profit and challenge of life. But I guess the true issue of this "being" is far more deeper than eternal wind on the stairs. It's all about Love-thing, I guess.

City of Paris. The Morning [Bonjour!]. Kisses on both cheeks. The Smell of newly-baked croissants, lyrical and drizzling rain, small parks, miniature streets and lifers around. Those, who never hurry, but are always on time. Sensitive keepers of old stuff. Listening music on vynil plates and sharing memories. Talking much. Giving flowers to their heart-ladies and arguing about politics. And tasting life like newly-baked croissants. [Slow down. Pleasure up.]

Wax Tailor featuring Charlotte Savary - Seize the Day... sharing pleasant melancholy of my contemplation. Delicious music piece from "Paris" movie. About those - Sentimental and punctual, disigning life as molecular equation and dreaming out future plans, playing modern harlots and being imigrants. About those, who are young again and in love, and those, who live their last days, while being young. About colorful games of destiny.
Imaginary Paris. More to love...

The Smell of Cherry Tobacco and Autumn.

Maybe that's my last smoke on the stairs of my Blockhouse Paradise. Someone has been here before. Someone left the smell of cherry tobacco. The rain drops playing melody on the window. It's raining. Latvian "Muse" [S.P.B.] is telling sad stories about past times, when we were poets and dreamers. Rising the urge of being hurt. Just a little bit. And I have no power to tell them to shut up. And it comes... silently and suddenly, but always at the same time - the Autumn Melancholy. With the longing for something undefined. The feeling that summer is gone. Gone with the birds. Gone far. Gone to Africa. Maybe.

But my Siberian-striped friend as usually joins me in my smoking ritual, playing with my hand as it was his own property. Enjoyable Cat flirt and the scars for memories.
Good-bye, my friend, I'll keep you here [in my heart.].

The Happy Land [Moving on.] Latvia.

Turkey.

The morning is refreshingly cold. I've just finished with checking youth pages and making newsletter on journalism stuff, and my thoughts came to Turkey...

The desirable willing of being a part of European Union, at least I can observe it in youth field. But maybe EU just needs a new firestarter [hell, yeah], if show must go on as usual, why not add some fire on it?
The thing that is irritating my mind is enourmous amounts (compared to others) of youth exchanges in Turkey [which is good in any way for international and open-minded society]. I see Turkish National Agency is making large investment in good future [in Europe]... mobility, integration, yeah, probably Turkey just needs to prove at least Europe the worth of itself. But why? Why something that already has a worth itself has to prove again itself?
Reminding myself the meeting of Turkish Minister of Foreign Affairs with Latvian Journalism Students in February 2009, which was obvious disaster. He sounded like a little dreamer, talking about serious topics as gas, Russia and all the good things from Turkey[that's his diplomatic duty, no doubt].
Heh, come on - another trash country [like my homeland Latvia itself] and raised hands praying for subsidies? Worth to fight for?
Yeah, I should better leave for morning sleep, instead of telling bullshit... But I wish that dream of Turkey becomes true... maybe we really need a new firestarter? :)

By the way, LCD Soundsystem - Tribulations sounds damn good!

Time For...

... Garlic.

Money. Money. Money.

Fairytales with shiny glitters for ugly, new-found beauties.
Abstract feelings, covered in plum jam and smell of money.
Doves are dead. Already.
Questions above the head. Sold for money.
Taken furiously and damn fast.
Oskar Wilde was damn good liar.

The Time.

"Sex and the City" was released on time. Indeed.
On time when there was the TIME for blurry talks & walks and overconsumption - shoes, dresses from Designer's Palaces', breakfasts at Tiffany's, music - so less passionate, clicheic and forgettable. And so many "Manhattan" Cocktails...
Adoration and ignorance - both taken as complex of pills together with further reaction. What reaction? Who knew? And who actually cared?

- [Cheryl Lynn] - Got To Be Real.
- So Be It [Pump Up The Volume]