Oceanic letter

Dear Rebekka Averbach,

I decided to write you a blog letter.
Been listening to this song and somehow it reminded me of you - not that this girl is like you or anything, on the contrary - she's calm and singing so gladly, maturely, surely not a teenager.

Well, Rebekka, more than five years ago there was this girl believing in the dreams of Teddy (you remember him, don't you), diaries of Che Guevara and writing letters to some Czech authors; travelling all around and looking for the place to dwell...

Now this girl has found some Australian or maybe New Zealandian anonymous poet Alabama Otis and she is reading all she has ever written. It is weird to name the Australian girl Alabama, isn't it? Who knows probably there are many Alabama state lovers in New Zealand too. So weird but fact is that there she is, this Alabama Otis writing down all that happens around her, she writes down the dialogues between her and her husband, she writes down the words she hears in the street or while she rides a bike and hears the wind whispering through her hair.

Do you also go and keep the diary about what people say? Do you go and collect emotions that people lose here and there?

No, I don't. I think nobody really does except Alabama Otis. She's been living in this little town near the ocean. It is Summer beginning in Australia and New Zealand now. And she loves Summer, because it is the time when people keep spreading their emotions, take off the clothes they don't need anymore and become lighthearted like birds.
And mostly it is not even about clothes or emotions, it is all about our attitudes. Anyways, we all know it is all in our heads.
Don't we, Rebekka?

Whatever you might be doing in your little German city and no matter how far you might be from Alabama Otis and her warm oceanic home, remember to be free and sweet, ok? Not that sugar-honey-oversweetened but the sweet like natural fruits can be, having sparkles in your eyes and ride your bike with your hair loose on your shoulders and letting the wind to curl it up even more.
Summer will be back from Australia soon.

...

Dreams

He: what is that you really want to be doing?
She: right now all I want to do is to cry my heart out for all the things I could never do.

Alabama Otis "Dreams" -

My latest discovery.

All about it

I wish I could wake up and see the face I have dreamed about last night.
I wish I had a daisy field.
I wish I were a little wild girl with golden hair running through that very daisy field.
I wish I were somewhere warm and sunny.

Then I realize it is not about where you are, who you are or what you have been dreaming about - it is all about your heart. It is all about your soul; about your shining face and sad eyes. It is always about one's heart and mind.
Dear friend of mine told me that I often say very HIGH things which make one nervous, but I cannot help - I feel that way. Sometimes I feel so HIGH spiritually that I am to explode with this belief and trust to Almighty. Really.

[Missing my youngest aunt. Woke up and remembered about her today. She is so cool and understanding, I wish I could talk to her more, to sit there with her knowing she could just listen and tell me softly whatever is good.]

All I really wish is happiness and health for me and my offspring (whenever I'll have'em)!!!
Nothing else matters. Absolutely nothing.

go

Feeling so sleepy and tired.
Weather is just what one may ask for a day like this: rainy, moody, grey... go to sleep, something is whispering in my ears... go and dive into your violet dreams... go and catch some stars above... go and swim upstream the river of your subconscious... go, go, go!

אין זמן תחת השמש

This morning slipped away from me...
Woke up and felt the non-existed sun on my shoulders.
Cinnamon tea gave my life back and I opened up the window to the world.
The world is cinnamon today.
It is like Aviv Geffen singing there is no time under the sun for wars and fights...

I had a feeling there was someone waiting for me behind the door. Someone sitting, reading and knowing I would soon wake up and smile.

It is as if I've been writing a book about myself, and this book is nothing but reminiscences of light. Do you know what I mean? The book of dreams and somnambulism, orange and violet shadows of me... This book is so scary sometimes full of emotions, weakness, roughness and then suddenly there comes the שמש, my very own שמש and I am happy because I am the שמש, I am.

No time under the sun.

First Thursday of February. First Thursday February afternoon and the "שמש" sipping her cinnamon tea is looking through the clouds hoping for the real sun to shine out.

Childhood friend

Под копни волос проникнет ли удар?
Мысль
одна под волосища вложена:
"Причесиваться? Зачем же?!
На время не стоит труда,
а вечно
причесанным быть
невозможно".

I wish I could translate this poem of Vladimir Mayakovsky in English. I used to translate some of his lyrics in Georgian when I was sophomore at university. Maybe I will one day. This one is about why combing one's hair when you can't remain combed forever... it is all about you, what's in your head. At least that's what I think Mayakovsky meant.

I have been connected to Mayakovsky since childhood - the office where my mother worked was facing his huge monument. He was standing there in the rain and sunshine with his strict face, big feet and with the cloud in his pants I guess (облако в штанах). And I was walking by him everyday after school, thinking whether it was his hat around his head or his hair. Now I believe it was the hat.
There is nothing like childhood memories, is there? Probably that's when my love to Russian poetry began and I was meant to live this life of wanderer, searching for the truth. What else is poetry than searching on and on.

Mayakovsky was born in Georgia indeed. I guess that's why he had got this bold attitude. Ok, I have this little nationalist thing about my country, but face it - Georgia is this tiny winy country caught in the middle between huge Russia and Turkey, and still lots of famous and talented people were born there, who excelled in arts, politics and etc. So there is something about the land even if you were just born there you have got passion and attitude in your bones.
If so, one may ask, why did Mayakovsky and I leave that country in the end? Perhaps we wanted to miss it more, to feel it more and to dream of it in our violet dreams.

Honestly, life is very prosaic as my mother loved to say when I was younger, and I never understood it. Life is what you make it. Life is yours, only yours. It is not about poetry or proses, it is about individuals - sunshine and thunder.
My life is not that. It is a movie :)

Put the kettle on

I love this poster.
I've been thinking today if I can keep calm. I actually can only when I am sleeping. Really. Sometimes I wake up and think how nice I am when I am asleep and no crazy thoughts bug my mind. I took an afternoon nap today because did not sleep well last night, and before I fell asleep I was thinking how small I am comparing to the huge universe, all those stars and planets around. And still, I have my own world, my own place and space to dwell, to close my eyes and fade if you know what I mean.

What about putting the kettle on? Yes, we all need to drink some tea and speak about poetry as Georgian painter Niko Pirosmani would have said. Poor one. He was a drunkard all right, sold all he had got and painted, painted as much as he could. He was a primitive painter they say; he had soul I would say. Only man with soul can dream about drinking tea and talking about poetry while he is homeless, moneyless and favourite woman does not give a damn about him.

So screw the tea, crash the kettle, be emotional, do not mind being embarrassed. Life is too short for tea, we should all be drinking wine and making love. Well, this approach does not belong to Niko Pirosmani definitely, it is damn Greek philosophy ruling over the world.

Anyway, what I wanted to say is that I am this mixture of body and soul, loving tea and wine at the same time, admiring poetry and love, embarrassing herself often but feeling happy because this is me, this is my life and I love it. Even when I am not calm and don't put the kettle on, you know.

Good Night You All!

Baltics

Мы эмигранты
И грустны и странны
Наша дорога бесконечна
Найти и снова
потерять
Наша дорога бесконечна

My teenage friend Rebekka just shared Alina Orlova's videos. She is so cute. I mean Rebekka, and Alina too. They are both from Lithuania :) have curly hair, beautiful eyes and free spirit. I don't know there is something about Baltic people. They have this unexplainable melancholy mixed with cold beauty that makes you fall for them. And actually they both, Rebekka and Alina, have this funny accent in Russian. I never thought I would say this because my accent is not less funny, especially the way I pronounce some specific letters.

It's also funny I have never mentioned before on my blogs that my grandmother from father's side was Estonian. I have never met her for she died while giving birth to my father. Yep. My father has been in trouble since he was born. Trouble man. It must be terrible if you realize that your mother died having you, no?
Although I have always imagined her, the grandmother I've never met, as tall, skinny woman with big green eyes, blonde or reddish hair, wearing vintage dress and walking on the sun... her face glowing and eyes dreaming about seeing me - her granddaughter she never really saw. It's funny, I suppose I've been imagining her as the young and lovely woman, why would she dream about me anyway? I think every girl has thought about her grandchildren even once in a lifetime. We all would like to imagine having grandchildren one day who will look like us a little, who will remember us, who will dream of us and say sweet things about us. I cannot say if I look like my grandmother, even though I used to have strawberry blonde hair as a child.

Life is just as that song of Alina's - "emigrants". So realistic. Sometimes I feel like I am this eternal wanderer - dwelling here and there, looking for a place and space to find serenity.

Argentina dreams. La razon de la Vida

Water Dream by Thomas Neil

What we had in common - our restlessness, our impassioned spirits, and a love for the open road.

Ernesto Che Guevara "Motorcycle Diaries"

Argentina. Buenos Aires.
I had a dream last night. Not realistic at all if you compare sunny Argentina to snowy and freezing Germany where I've been living almost a year.
It is all about Che Guevara who is one of my favourite people who have really inspired me to have free spirit, be not afraid of obstacles, don't rest while I am alive and go for it. Frida Kahlo would have also advised me that: Viva La Vida. No?
Isn't it amazing that these South Americans have such desire for life, love and everything that is worth to be in this world? Even though their economy is terrible, corruption and drug business is blossoming. They still do not give up: dance, sing and believe in positivity.

Whenever I feel solitude I write letters to Che Guevara and Klara Zetkin. Probably because there will be no answer back, plus I know there is some part of them in me I could trust. And it is so symbolic that one is from Argentina and the other - from Germany. My life is so full of specific reasons, isn't it? I wish I could name it somehow: "La Razon De La Vida Del Sol"?

Yesterday when I was walking in the snow and got frozen all over, I was thinking, merde, do I have to die so young and restless just from the cold? I exaggerated a bit, all right.
Although it does not even matter if you die as long as you know the reason of it. Reason you are dead because of searching for something real and FUN.

I want my BACK back

Sometimes it's crazy what you may see from your window. I haven't even looked out today, I just mean it in a metaphoric way. Window is like a heart or soul, I look into it and try to catch it, but can't. This window is so slippery. Have you seen this Marquez-book-like dreams? I have - swimming in the violet sea and seeing dead people in it. I mean not dead literally, they were swimming and all just not knowing they're dead. So I closed my window and went to sleep.

Oh, how am I really doing? Had a terrible back ache yesterday. I had it coming. I was standing whole day on Yom Kippur and was even proud of myself for being so strong. Remember, never overestimate your powers! That's what I've been doing for life and it always ends with back ache and stressful mood. Plus I've got one of my contact lenses ripped and have to buy new one. This is depressing, I thought it would last for 3 months. But who cares about lenses, I wish my back ache passes soon.

Been listening to Lily Allen today. Time to go out for a walk and exercise my poor back a bit.

Turquoise dreams

Alain Delon

"La Piscine"

Sometimes I miss my father. I wish I knew him better. And whenever I miss him I watch Alain Delon's movies. He looked like Alain Delon very much, sometimes they have same look that breaks my heart. I have realized that every man who I either like or hate looks like my father. Freud was genius.

One and only ROMY SCHNEIDER

"La Piscine" (Swimming pool) - the turquoise 1969 movie of Jacques Deray with Alain Delon, Romy Schneider and young Jane Birkin.

Jane Birkin

It is not a movie to talk about, it is to see... to dive into late 60's and sadly remember that those years will never be back as my father is not to be freed from his demons. I have heard from many people how they wished to live in 60's, but I DO LIVE 60's for I have my own world where I can avoid everything and everyone and just swim in a Piscine of turquoise dreams.

10/10

Follow your dreams

by Victoria Usova

You know how I define great people? By the way they treat other people. I have heard that beside great ones you feel as great too, but beside low people you feel low and depressed because they make you feel like nothing.

So I've always been striving to be with great people and learn life lessons from them. What I learned is that: you should love your fellow, you should love people and never hurt anyone's feelings.

• Do you remember my sweet Rebetzin Roberg? Well, she told us to keep dreaming because they DO come true.
• Then Rabbi Spinner advised us to set a goal every year and work on its achievement.

I dream and have goals. Most of my dreams have come true as you know: I live with my people and have wonderful time, I've been to Venice - my dream place... plus I had set a goal to learn Rashi letters by the end of this semester. So I did.

I'm following my dreams.

Shabbat Shalom!

Then, Now & Soon

There are some blogs that I just cannot read because they remind me myself at early age. Well, not that early, but early enough. So I quit reading them.

Sometimes you just cannot escape from your past, can you? I've always been saying that nothing really matters but present, but is it really like that? I do not know.
I do not care, but others do. Why do I care about others though?

I still collect my dreams... and live in a dream as a matter of fact.
I have been thinking about myself since I've come back home from Berlin, about who I am and what I am going to do with my life in future... Will I achieve all that I've always wanted? Is that 'all' what I REALLY need? And what is that I really DO need?

Hope to get the answer as soon as possible.

Cold Dream

I think I got cold. I blow my nose every single minute and can hardly breathe.
Yesterday I watched 'Bridget Jones's Diary' for the millionth time. Gosh. I love that movie so much that I may throw up from knowing all the lines by heart.

And I had this crazy dream aboout Robbie Williams. So stupid. I do not even like him that much. If it was Adrien Brody - ok, but Robbie? What the hell :D

Plus, I miss Berlin, midrasha and the girls overthere. Ooh!

I'd rather go and make some pancakes - my stress saviours.

Something I'll never be

I've always wanted to be a hippie, you know that?
Today I was looking at the pictures of Michelle Phillips of 'The mamas and the papas' and realized that I wish I was born at that times, but I'm not sure whether I'd dared to become the flower child. Not everyone in 60's was hippie.

I just like the idea of it, of that crazy freedom, flowers, colourful dresses and long blonde hair.
One always dreams of something she'll never be. Because I never dream, I just act... and if I dream, it means that I have no guts to do it.

It's rainy and freezing Monday in Berlin. Suddenly I wish I could go out and walk with my friend Chili, drink hot tea and talk about poetry and this impossible life, where you seem to find the way, but it slips away and you keep on searching. Maybe it's just as it should be, who am I to know.

I'm just Franny lost in the rye.