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]

Forever Young. Forever Drunk. [Вечно молодой, вечно пьяный...]

They came to celebrate. Another birthday. And this was the special one. And despite of this fact Riga meets them with snow. So white and so unbearable.

They never buy a return ticket, in case if the city charm gets them too far... and the willing to enjoy the beauty of individual attraction is so vigorous that there's no chance to resist.

They come from the city of lions and bridges. All with historical fairytale, beauty and in great amount. [St. Petersbourg]

Telling about white nights and bridges, which tend to split and merge again time to time. That's all about astounded bridge thing. If you stay on the wrong side of the bridge after great party, that just means you had a great party. Indeed! Now use your creativity to work out, where you'll spend the rest of the night. The tourists might be in a little trouble, while watching this phenomenal mechanical brigde thing.

Economical tendencies uniquely precise and appropriate portraying global stability crash. Massive dismissals from full-time and part-time job places. Although the amount of pubs is decreasing too in space and number.

They're considering themselves as workaholic beings. Already 3 years earning money by writing BA and MA Thesis and reports for lazy students. Day by day working together. And they succeed. Telling that if the Spring season was very productive by doing this stuff, pretty frivolous living can be afforded afterwards, including expanding horizons across the home city walls. Seems to worth it. But as for today earning money with this method of arranging things also experiencing the recession. As the nation's capacity of paying becomes less impressive.

Telling about american tourists and subcultures. Laughing on obtuseness of Yankees. And describing typical subcultures they are part of. The Roofers. Those, who livin' on the roofs or at least enjoying some late night beers sometime. But even they are experiencing hard times - as owners of the houses, which apparently having roofs, started to close the entrances to Roofers' Paradises. And why shouldn't they? Paradise makes you feel so damn good and sometimes or even pretty often you are too loud for expressing your king size happiness. That's a shame! Those morons living down there can't understand You...
But still there are known roofs, which are still available to enjoy the Roofers' Paradise. And if needed, you always can get the right coordinates.

So they continue to celebrate. Celebrate their silent moments of happiness for being in a Big city. Drinking beer, hidden in the gloves. Smiling and making jokes. Inviting to come along. To the city of lions, pretty bridges and just great people. I'm smiling with. [About those... forever young and forever drunk.]

Imagine.

I wonder how... I wonder why...
yesterday you told me about the blue blue sky...
but all that I can see... NEVERMIND.

We're Having a Party...

The Son of The Flower Lady.

He came from the country side. He was simple, warm and open. [Hello, world! I'm Yours!] And shining.
Shining whenever she smiled, she laughed, she looked.
But they were just friends. Under certain circumstances. She broke up, he didn't start yet. That's how it was. Just flowers left.
They usually met after school. Making round tours in familiar well-known places, passing the same crapy shops, where you can buy cheap beer and cigarettes, even if you're under 18 [and they were], fields full of frozen dogs' shit mines. It was winter 2004. It was cold. But still they met. Always at the same meeting point, always the same flowers. Red roses.
They were both looking for essence of life. They were both dreamers. Both lovers of beauty. Both somewhat outcasted. The king and queen of outcasted teens...
Graduation day came. She could hardly speak, when he appeared with the biggest rose she ever saw in her outcasted life. A bit seared. But still white. Like his feelings - a bit seared, but sincere.. the untouched beauty.
Years past by. They met again in another city. They both became students. So brave and so passionated about this life. No regrets.
They partied a lot. With great amount of boyfriends and girlfriends. Doing crazy things and less planning. Night walks and dancing on small, charming bridges of small, charming towns in sounds of imaginary music and plenty of emptied bottles of cheap wine, while the wind was blowing heart-shaped clouds under the painted sky.
Big plans to change the world and make it better place. Bob Sinclar and Junior Jack. It's all about love generation in stupid disco. Flowers remained. Silent.
His dream was to be a DJ. To have big head-phones and to hear the scrach of vinyl plate, mixing summer jam with blues of 60-ties... and seeing happy people. Dancing people... whole night long. On small, charming bridges or either on the dancefloors... And he did it. Despite of global economical crisis and depressing motions... enjoyed imaginary bed of roses. In new colors. And still does. This was the story about Son of The Flower Lady. To be continued...

Every human is invited here in this world with the purpose. Create your own. And follow...

nasing spešel.

Arvien jauni personāži piesakās man līdzi braukt. Arvien jaunos ceļojumos ar zināmiem galamērķiem un nejaušiem ceļabiedriem. Nu patīk man tā padarīšana - stāvēt šosejas malā ar paceltu īkšķi. Netverams vieglums. Visums atveras. Paldies! Tādas, lūk, tās odziņas.

God, can you hear me?

Fuck the People, who are trying to make a castle from ruins in the last minute...