Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Thursday, September 20, 2007

My love...you know that you are my best friend...

The funny post of the day:

I've been drinking juice spritzers that taste totes like the soda one could get out of these public soda machines in Russia in the 1980s:




You took a real glass, flipped it upside down on a little fountain thingy, and it washed it like a miniature dishwasher. Then you put it under the spout, dropped in 5 kopecs (I suppose the current equivalent would be 5c) and pushed the soda button. Every machine had three buttons, but usually only two options were functional - seltzer or soda, and the flavours depended on whatever they loaded the machine with that day - usually something citrusy. Easy and good for the environment.

The sad post of the day: forgive the convoluted language. It's a nostalgic kind of day, and this from a very nostalgic poet - Bulat Okudjava.

This connection of hearts -
It is an ancient mechanism.
It seems that the end is quite near…
But in one moment – a thaw is here.

It seems the time has come –
A break is nearly imminent.
But everything that exists in the morning
Can turn around by the time evening comes.

This connection of hearts –
It is an ancient mechanism.
- But what if the end has truly come?
- What bloody thaw can we talk about?

And if the time has come indeed,
All contrivances are useless.
- What has been, is no longer relevant
- And the two of us, even apart, are still beautiful

And in the moments - sweet and sorrowful -
All the words from books of note,
And all the teachings of those who “only want the best”
Have lost their importance.

And only the two of us can understand
The sources of our joy and torture.
And we stand by this, we live by this,
And draw our solace from separation.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Russia...poetry...love

When I was 13 and obsessed with Victor Tsoy (earlier mentioned here), I found great solace in a line from his song that goes like this:

“Смерть стоит того, чтобы жить, а любовь стоит того, чтобы ждать”


“Death is worth living , and love is worth waiting .”


At 31, I still find solace in it.


And now, simply because I feel guilty for not posting, a little more translation.


Стань моей птицей - could be heard here


Диана Арбенина from Бонни & Клайд (2007)


стань моей птице
й
стань моей птицей
чтобы во мне повториться

чтобы во мне повториться


стань моей кровью

стань моей раной

чтоб задыхаясь на плаху

чтоб на прощанье не плакать


чтоб четыре крыла по периметру неба

чтоб кричали тела горячо и нелепо

чтобы высохшим ртом по периметру пульса

не целуйся


стань моей крохой

стань моим сыном

чтобы во мне не остыло

чтобы во мне не остыло


стань моей смертью

стань моим страхом

чтоб задыхаясь на плаху

чтоб на прощанье не плакать


чтоб четыре крыла по периметру неба

чтоб кричали тела горячо и нелепо

чтобы высохшим ртом по периметру пульса

не целуйся


чтоб четыре крыла по периметру неба

чтоб кричали тела горячо и нелепо

чтоб четыре крыла по периметру неба

чтоб кричали тела горячо и нелепо

чтобы высохшим ртом по периметру пульса

не целуйся


стань моей птицей

стань моей птицей


Become My Bird


Diana Arbenina, from “Bonny & Clyde” (2007)


Become my bird

Become my bird

So you can be repeated in me

So you can be repeated in me


Become my blood

Become my wounds

So when gasping - on the scaffold

So no crying at farewell


So four wings - the perimeter of sky

So the bodies shall scream, hotly and absurdly

So the dry mouth won’t kiss
the perimeter of pulse

Become my little one

Become my son

So it won’t grow cold inside me

So it won’t grow cold inside me


Become my death

Become my fear

So when gasping - on the scaffold

So no crying at farewell


So four wings on the perimeter of sky

So the bodies shall scream, hotly and absurdly

So the dry mouth won’t kiss

the perimeter of pulse


So four wings - the perimeter of sky

So the bodies shall scream, hotly and absurdly

So four wings - the perimeter of sky

So the bodies shall scream, hotly and absurdly

So the dry mouth won’t kiss

the perimeter of pulse


Become my bird

Become my bird

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Weddings

So I got totes distracted with the whole Death thing. I was PMSing like no other time. Lots of people get irate when they have PMS. I get depressed out of my gourd and cry non-stop. Or read books about dying. Or think everyone I love will die soon. Or have absolutely no control over my emotions. Or all of the above. However, onto happy things:

Last weekend my best friend MK got married to the lovely RB in upstate New York. As I am writing this, I realized I never asked if she was changing her name. Not that it really matters, but it was brought to my attention by another friend who got married the same weekend (and whose wedding, sadly, I was not able to attend) that if you don’t change your name legally on the marriage license (when it’s free), it gets really complicated. Anyway, we were waay, waay upstate, not like Westchester upstate. The ceremony was at a vineyard on the shore of Cayuga Lake. Did you know they make wine in upstate New York? Neither did I, and being used to California wines, I had my doubts. It’s good wine though. I tried the merlot, and hated it, but the Riesling was perfect.

This is the view from where the ceremony took place. That’s the bride and groom having artistic photos taken. It was the most perfect weather you could ask for. The winery apparently does upwards of 50 weddings/ceremonies/celebrations per season. It’s a party factory.


This buddy was part of the ceremony, as you can tell by his collar. His name is Flash, and after the wedding he got a little sister named Sophie, which he is not too happy about (a canine sister, weirdos.) Isn’t she cute?

In fact, the running joke at the wedding was “No, we are NOT pregnant.” What is it about family pressure on people in their late 20s-early 30s? MK and I talked about how when our parents got married, it was all about a legal and societal permission to have sex. (I know, not a super deep thought, but bear with me.) Since in our lives, nobody gives a damn if people have sex outside of marriage (unless you are deeply religious, of course, and I am not discriminating among the major religions that frown on premarital, recreational sex. Don’t even get me started on religion and gays…) marriage is more a symbolic gesture of commitment, and an excuse to get lots of gifts and have a party. But EVERYONE expects you to get pregnant right away, as if marriage was only a front for procreating, and nothing else. I am sort-of totally anti-marriage as a concept, when it comes to my own life, and everyone I know keeps saying “you’ll change your mind when you have kids” and maybe I will, but I don’t really feel the need to be sanctioned by the state to love LK. This does not make me anti-gay marriage. That would be dumb. Just anti-Ani marriage.

But this is about someone else’s choices, no? So I was in the ceremony, as MK’s Best Lady (I think that’s the term we ended up with) together with his sister (to balance out the party, the bride had her brother as an attendant on her side…so we were all “boy-girl” on the wrong side…) but to match the bridesmaids, I had this lovely bouquet. Which promptly died from heat throughout the day, which was sad.

What wasn’t sad were the favours. Both bride and groom are potters. So they made 200 of these lovely vases, 8 different designs, slipcast and glazed with the groom’s specially invented glaze, with the wedding details inscribed on decals. It took months to make these. I now have two lovely ones at home to add to my collection of MK pottery.

And the cake rocked. Both beautiful and tasty. And the design whore that I am, here’s my gifts collaged with the cake. I picked paper to match the wedding, totes unaware. I knew the wedding colours (red and chartreuse) but I didn’t know about the cake.


The next day another groomsman and I went on a hike at Taughannock Falls State Park, which apparently houses the tallest single drop waterfall in the NorthEast (215 feet, taller than Niagara Falls by 33 feet.) Unfortunately, there wasn’t much water flowing through the gorge at the time, so the waterfall was not impressive. Apparently one could swim in the basin and walk under the waterfall into the 1980s. But then probably some idiot drowned while drunk, and the Park Services prohibited any such foolish activity. Truth be told, it is still really easy to get under the falls, if you walk on the creek bed, but you would probably get arrested. Oh yeah, and I learned a cool trick. If you stare at the water falling for 30 seconds, and then shift your gaze to the rock wall next to the water, the rocks move up the wall in this slow morphing motion, like a special effect. The longer you stare at the water, the longer the rocks morph. It’s like hallucinating without any drugs.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Experiments in confusion

In this week's episode of "...Stranger..." Ani learns to post photos. Go me!!!

A memento from the City of Brotherly...



from LK, who has been auto-distracted and unheeding of the blogosphere.

I don't know if they still have pink fountains downtown. When this photo was taken, it felt much rather as if we were celebrating Breast Cancer Awareness Month, since ALL the fountains were pink. But hey, at least they HAVE fountains...