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...

Hello, my name is Carrie Bradshaw. Let's Talk About Sex.

Friday. Late evening. The City is high-lighted with drunk-guys and tourists. Streets are almost empty. A few bars known for cheap beer. Not the best one. But we can survive with that. BBC is already telling about economical crisis. So let's be more pragmatic about money we have.

First stop. The park. The bottle of champagne opens with splash. We meet again. We haven't seen each other for ages. And to be surprised – we don't drink for "happy coming together again", we drink for SEX! Yeah, ask where is this world going?

We are 3 today. Samantha is missing. And that's what we miss – Samantha in ourselves. We are the rest 3 "loser" characters of "Sex and the City" – and not divided – just 3 as a whole. And we drink for SEX, which apparently we don't have.

1st Miranda, Charlote & Carrie.

Just had a dead end of relationship. Was in connection with married man. That explains the dead end. (Don't be naïve, he's not gonna leave his wife and warmly kept snuggery for you! That's why it is called extramarital relations. Take it or leave it). Emotional soul. Cries a lot. And shouts either. By occasion. Falls in love quickly and deeply. And often. Open-minded, argumentative, loves men's company.

2nd Miranda, Charlote & Carrie.

1st time in a long period of stagnation she's in love. In fact, her new relationship has not started yet. So there's a lot of romance in that. (oh, God! I love beginnings!). She can expect flowers and nice text messages. And for sure – she's got stomach full of butterflies by now. (Let's wish good luck, no matter how long this relationship will last.) A dreamer, doesn't like to complain. Open-minded, shy, loves men's company.

3rd Miranda, Charlote & Carrie.

Insensible and emotional by occasion. Once or even twice hurt. So there's no problem for her to avoid feelings, if the romantic soul awakens and suddenly disapproves of instant guy, who didn't approach in desired way. Rationalist is doing great job! So no extra unwelcome feelings. Just ignorance. That's her benefit and drawback either. The heart remains untouched, locked with 7 keys. It was enough that once someone put a shit there. Open-minded, positively-determined, loves men's company.

The bottle is finished. Round tour. Next stop – the bar few streets farther. On the way met German speaking tourists asking for hostel direction. Those 3 would love to help – but there was no emergency for hostel in Riga ever. So the question remained cloudy for every participant of this conversation.

Moving further. The bar. Smiling and handsome bartender, bottles of alcohol set in shelves, alighted with red light bulbs.3 beers, please! The same taste and the same reason! Again for SEX! A year ago they couldn't imagine that they will talk and DRINK for sex! So it's a bit confusing by now. It should be like – rationalist should complain about political affairs as usual, dreamer – just flying somewhere in clouds, and passionist just doing a little bit of both.

The conclusion about sex theme that evening – have sex without any obligations. The man and relationship, flowers and bla bla bla stuff can come along after (or not). Encouraged to be Samanthas at least once. Nothing to loose. At least the feelings remain for White Princes, who'll appear someday. Just have to wait for the right moment. Before that it's time for losers and those self-assured – choose the most likeable! Enjoy. With condom and without commitments! Is it possible?

P.S. After few beers they split. Rationalist went to free movies night organized by Culture Academy. Passionist stayed at the bar to meet some friends and got drunk pretty fast. Dreamer just went out to look at the stars.