Pasha, I remember your room full of suitcases, wigs manequins and – what the heck else? One of 7 rooms. Was your mum's spirit in there? . I remember they were made of leather, not plastic, and one of them said 1956? I remember the photos from Cambridge. How did you get through there as … Continue reading Found in one of the suitcases
Personal reflections on decades of pseudo-nomadism, packing, love, meaning, painting, and generally pretending to have an adventurous and deep life.
People are different here. They don't send money back home to their parents. Instead, their parents buy them cars or houses. . They don't hang on to life and sanity with the last claws of their humanity, will power, focus. Many walk placidly. There is indifference and distance. . They are reasonably comfortable. Perhaps explore … Continue reading Crumbling the Berlin wall
Catching glimpses of a liveable life of a habitable planet . here and there, usually in between of waves of catastrophes and dreams of tsunamis. . how many times can the fire bird fly catch the usual crash and reconstitute itself from atoms the way a caterpillar-butterfly does from cells?* . *apparently they actually decompose … Continue reading Habitable
Bitchin' and grumbling about everyday topics on the piano this morning. Slightly annoyed, ironic, meandering, pacing, occasionally anxious, arguing, and a bit pissed off, but still in good humour. This piece is largely inspired by the following deep thought: "Why the heck did I forget to press that freakin' button?" (The REC button when improvising … Continue reading The philosopher complains about life to the piano (incl. piano improvisation recording)
... I can't do it. I'm too rational for that. I know they will do what their deepest will is, what their ultimate rightness is. I'm not here to oppose the plans of Time, of the tao, to change the dharma. I understand (and I feel) when people want to leave. * I strongly suspect … Continue reading Descending into the Hades negotiating over souls. (Panic poetry.)