29.06.2012
City of Białystok full of young people in neat outfits, proper for the end of school year. In the evening they are sporting newest trends in fashion and buying lots of beer and chips and other stuff. They sit on the pavement and smoke cigarettes in attempt to look like those chic ladies or bad boys from classical movies. They scream a lot and laugh. They constantly try to impress everybody. They pretend to be relaxed and carefree. Weekend begins.
*
Was at the dentist today and suffered and sweated a bit. I hate this stuff that is suppose to remove eccesss saliva, it always sucks on my tongue or a gum. Had some tartar removed with really terribly sounding and pointy device which was suppose to work on ultrasounds basis.
Am racking my brain over the cage problem, If I'd known, how many problems it'll cause to have two chinches in the house, I would probably refrain from having any. But then again- I didn't really expect to move around so much, let alone going abroad again. It appears that sending the cage will cost me dearly. Goddamn it. I'd prefer to spend money on something more interesting than that. I wonder how shall I solve this problem.
O. has a cunning plan to take Grandpa to 3city next weekend to see his only surviving friend (Grandpa's-not O.'s). So we could meet up, hang around a bit, O. would see my Mum after twenty years and perhaps impress my other Grandpa, who's particularly fond of everybody who's an engineer like himself. And of course, we could go back to Biały together. Not a bad idea.
All my paintings are finally framed, and most of them signed on the back. Bought outrageously expensive picture hangers (0.9zł each!!) and fixed them in.
14 days. Two weeks, that is. Am thrilled but simultaneously saddened.
of trip to Białowieża
27.06.2012
31st birthday of my Dear Deceased Brother. We should be spending money on beer instead of new hearths, as You should be among us.
Went to Białowieża yesterday, and the experience in the woods wasn't as intense as in Knyszyńska forest. A lot of oaks though, and there is much darker among these trees. Also, I felt very strong presence of animals, however didn't see any, except for a Lesser Spotted Eagle. Flew away before I managed to get my Canon at the ready. This time I took my pocket sized binoculars, so we could observe a female deer from a distance. Such a beautiful creature. Will never understand sick urge for hunting. All who enjoy it are psychos, maybe except for those who actually kill animals to feed upon them, however eating meat is in my opinion quite nasty and totally unacceptable. Still, rather cowardly approach-try to kill a wild boar with a spear or something instead of shooting it from the comfortable spot, somewhere above the ground, with rifle with field glass.
Now, the museum. As I remember it, it was a small building, with rather not too extravagant inferior nor exterior. Remember stuffed horse and a european bison and all. Remember as my parents bought me two stamps at the souvenir shop-one with otter, the other one with common eider. Still got them somewhere.
When I saw it after twenty years I gasped with horror. Now it is huge, supposedly modern building, with restaurant and such, with some gigantic tower on top. We looked at the ticket prices and I thought someone lost his fucking mind- there was even a separate price for taking pictures. Obviously their taxidermy display is more valuable than the greatest of paintings on this earth. Left.
Białowieża is now very focused on making money, so almost everywhere you can find a room for rent, even a whole house if you wish, not to mention hotels with names which must have something to do with bison. A lot of tacky souvenirs which sometimes have absolutely nothing to do with this place. Of course countless, tacky, bison-themed items, probably made in China. And wooden axes and bows for children to please their inner urge for causing each other pain and distress.
Saw Tsar's Restaurant in former railway building. Wasn't really interesting (especially if one knows it belongs to Magda Gessler-and I think she thinks she's next Gordon Ramsey, only I don't think he ever compared vegetarians to "poor weirdos") but the surroundings are nice, especially old train, which remebers Tsar's visits at this region.
Overall, it was a good day, despite rain. Managed to sneak to the bison reserve without paying for parking or entrance- we pretended to be part of german group. Scared the shit out of two naughty boys in the town. Got into few old houses-one of them formely belonged to O.'s great grandmother (his father's side). It is partly empty now, and if someone was ever to dwell in it, should put a great deal of work to make it habitable. Pity it was given away, should have stayed in the family.
Finally we got to the heritage park, and I saw my dreamhouse. Couldn't get enough of this sight. I felt this would be a perfect home for each of us. O. would also be pleased to leave in such a house. We left this place with sadness, as we feel this is unlikely we ever make such dream come true. It's tearing me apart!!
We were farewelled by a black dog and a then sudden rain.
31st birthday of my Dear Deceased Brother. We should be spending money on beer instead of new hearths, as You should be among us.
Went to Białowieża yesterday, and the experience in the woods wasn't as intense as in Knyszyńska forest. A lot of oaks though, and there is much darker among these trees. Also, I felt very strong presence of animals, however didn't see any, except for a Lesser Spotted Eagle. Flew away before I managed to get my Canon at the ready. This time I took my pocket sized binoculars, so we could observe a female deer from a distance. Such a beautiful creature. Will never understand sick urge for hunting. All who enjoy it are psychos, maybe except for those who actually kill animals to feed upon them, however eating meat is in my opinion quite nasty and totally unacceptable. Still, rather cowardly approach-try to kill a wild boar with a spear or something instead of shooting it from the comfortable spot, somewhere above the ground, with rifle with field glass.
Now, the museum. As I remember it, it was a small building, with rather not too extravagant inferior nor exterior. Remember stuffed horse and a european bison and all. Remember as my parents bought me two stamps at the souvenir shop-one with otter, the other one with common eider. Still got them somewhere.
When I saw it after twenty years I gasped with horror. Now it is huge, supposedly modern building, with restaurant and such, with some gigantic tower on top. We looked at the ticket prices and I thought someone lost his fucking mind- there was even a separate price for taking pictures. Obviously their taxidermy display is more valuable than the greatest of paintings on this earth. Left.
Białowieża is now very focused on making money, so almost everywhere you can find a room for rent, even a whole house if you wish, not to mention hotels with names which must have something to do with bison. A lot of tacky souvenirs which sometimes have absolutely nothing to do with this place. Of course countless, tacky, bison-themed items, probably made in China. And wooden axes and bows for children to please their inner urge for causing each other pain and distress.
Saw Tsar's Restaurant in former railway building. Wasn't really interesting (especially if one knows it belongs to Magda Gessler-and I think she thinks she's next Gordon Ramsey, only I don't think he ever compared vegetarians to "poor weirdos") but the surroundings are nice, especially old train, which remebers Tsar's visits at this region.
Overall, it was a good day, despite rain. Managed to sneak to the bison reserve without paying for parking or entrance- we pretended to be part of german group. Scared the shit out of two naughty boys in the town. Got into few old houses-one of them formely belonged to O.'s great grandmother (his father's side). It is partly empty now, and if someone was ever to dwell in it, should put a great deal of work to make it habitable. Pity it was given away, should have stayed in the family.
Finally we got to the heritage park, and I saw my dreamhouse. Couldn't get enough of this sight. I felt this would be a perfect home for each of us. O. would also be pleased to leave in such a house. We left this place with sadness, as we feel this is unlikely we ever make such dream come true. It's tearing me apart!!
We were farewelled by a black dog and a then sudden rain.
of a day in paradise
23.06.2012
I always expect, that on the 23th of a month something unusual and interesting will occur. Since I was a teenager I believed that 23 is my lucky number, probably because it was lucky for Michael Jordan, and I was his greatest fan then. Ok, truth was he was/is just a splendid basketball player, he has a gift and no number has anything to do with it. Still, I began to associate 23 with some magic qualities-for example, I have noticed that whenever I look somewhere, this number is in sight. Be it house number, license plate, some random doodle on the wall, computer clock which shows precisely 23:23. At some point it was even alarming. Now I rarely see it, and I don'l look for it. I watched "Number 23" with Jim Carrey some time ago to remind myself why I don't like this movie, but I can somewhat understand obsession of a main character.
So, I did expect something amazing today, but it didn't happen. Amazing thing happened yesterday instead-a trip to one of the most interesting woods in the country. O. picked me around 11, and along with Grandpa we set off for a adventure. Of course we didn't take Grandpa for a walk in the woods, because he's too wobbly, only left him with O.'s folks. Great weather: drizzle, about 20C, no wind and virtually no mosquitos, cloudy sky. Silence. Picking wild strawberries. Birds singing, very delicate rustle of trees, ocasionally twigs cracking under our feet. Almost no conversations between us. No people. No distant sound of cars or trucks or trains. Thor allmighty, this was GOOD. Animal tracks. Clear stream water. We were walking without plan nor real sense of direction. If it wasn't for Grandpa, who eventually should get home at decent hour, and dinner awaiting, we would probably stay there until nightfall. And there are wolves in these woods, and much more. We found a nest of Lesser Spotted Eagle up, up on the pine tree-couldn't see him, but heard him allright. It was a chick-no doubt. We'd been waiting for his parents to come back, but they didn't show up. O. says they are nesting at the same area every year. We found three feathers.
I particularly liked tiny drops of drizzle settling on my face. Felt a bit like somewhere in the mountains, or outskirts of Bergen as I remember it. When we came back to the wooden house where aunt and uncle were spending their holidays, we ate our dinners talked and took some more silly pictures. Played badminton and my whole arm feelss somewhat painful because of it. We took Grandpa home, and I was surprised to find out that my frames are ready!AND I'm ending this thing cheap because instead of proper payment for them I can give away one of my paintings-the first one I made actually, with Eurasian Eagle Owl with hedgehog in his claws. Oh, well.
Spent some time at O.'s pretending to be interested in football match between Greece and Germany (Germany kicked ass hard), and shortly before 23 took my bike and set off home.
If weather allows on tuesday we'll go to even greater woods- to Puszcza Białowieska. Time is running.
20 days.
Watched "Hobo with a shotgun" today, and I must say it HAD potential but was literally killed by bad acting. I am not talking about Mr.Rutger Hauer, because he certainly was the only one there doing his job. Rest of characters were so exagerrated, that it was painful to watch. A lot of gore, by the way, which doesn't bother me.
Some wild strawberries picking again-this time near the house. Discovered whole new strawberry field, of which even aunt was unaware. YUM!
I always expect, that on the 23th of a month something unusual and interesting will occur. Since I was a teenager I believed that 23 is my lucky number, probably because it was lucky for Michael Jordan, and I was his greatest fan then. Ok, truth was he was/is just a splendid basketball player, he has a gift and no number has anything to do with it. Still, I began to associate 23 with some magic qualities-for example, I have noticed that whenever I look somewhere, this number is in sight. Be it house number, license plate, some random doodle on the wall, computer clock which shows precisely 23:23. At some point it was even alarming. Now I rarely see it, and I don'l look for it. I watched "Number 23" with Jim Carrey some time ago to remind myself why I don't like this movie, but I can somewhat understand obsession of a main character.
So, I did expect something amazing today, but it didn't happen. Amazing thing happened yesterday instead-a trip to one of the most interesting woods in the country. O. picked me around 11, and along with Grandpa we set off for a adventure. Of course we didn't take Grandpa for a walk in the woods, because he's too wobbly, only left him with O.'s folks. Great weather: drizzle, about 20C, no wind and virtually no mosquitos, cloudy sky. Silence. Picking wild strawberries. Birds singing, very delicate rustle of trees, ocasionally twigs cracking under our feet. Almost no conversations between us. No people. No distant sound of cars or trucks or trains. Thor allmighty, this was GOOD. Animal tracks. Clear stream water. We were walking without plan nor real sense of direction. If it wasn't for Grandpa, who eventually should get home at decent hour, and dinner awaiting, we would probably stay there until nightfall. And there are wolves in these woods, and much more. We found a nest of Lesser Spotted Eagle up, up on the pine tree-couldn't see him, but heard him allright. It was a chick-no doubt. We'd been waiting for his parents to come back, but they didn't show up. O. says they are nesting at the same area every year. We found three feathers.
I particularly liked tiny drops of drizzle settling on my face. Felt a bit like somewhere in the mountains, or outskirts of Bergen as I remember it. When we came back to the wooden house where aunt and uncle were spending their holidays, we ate our dinners talked and took some more silly pictures. Played badminton and my whole arm feelss somewhat painful because of it. We took Grandpa home, and I was surprised to find out that my frames are ready!AND I'm ending this thing cheap because instead of proper payment for them I can give away one of my paintings-the first one I made actually, with Eurasian Eagle Owl with hedgehog in his claws. Oh, well.
Spent some time at O.'s pretending to be interested in football match between Greece and Germany (Germany kicked ass hard), and shortly before 23 took my bike and set off home.
If weather allows on tuesday we'll go to even greater woods- to Puszcza Białowieska. Time is running.
20 days.
Watched "Hobo with a shotgun" today, and I must say it HAD potential but was literally killed by bad acting. I am not talking about Mr.Rutger Hauer, because he certainly was the only one there doing his job. Rest of characters were so exagerrated, that it was painful to watch. A lot of gore, by the way, which doesn't bother me.
Some wild strawberries picking again-this time near the house. Discovered whole new strawberry field, of which even aunt was unaware. YUM!
of multiplication
21.06.2012
Must share it till it is fresh in my mind.
There are at least three new beings on their way to this world. Which leads me to the conclusion that I really am different than most of people when it comes to approach to life. There is no regret in me that I've chosen less popular path, however I do feel something of an unease, a strange urge to pity others for their naive expectations. They think that all the horror and pain of life will avoid them and their children just because they deserve it. I cannot criticise someone who's already pregnant, and I have no right to manipulate or interfere into someone's life choices. But it makes me wanna scream: WHY? WHY? Don't you see life is pointless? I would give anything for not being born. And yet, we never have any choice, it just happens. And as soon as we die, the memory of our existence vanishes slowly but surely, until not a trace is being left. Unless you're Marylin Monroe. Or Walt Disney. Then perhaps you may exist for many decades in people's imagination.
I begin to wonder if I'm not obsessed with condition of my health .
Conversations with O. today didn't lift my spirits neither, he too doesn't see much of a sense in his life. And his relationship is falling apart even though he doesn't see it yet. Not only I cannot save him, but I can't save anybody I care about, even me.
*
Started new pyrography-the hawk.
Frames for my paintings have been ordered.
My tooth is killing me.
Got my tax return.
Heavy rain.
Hope to see some proper forest within a week.
I need a juicer.
Technically :22 days to go.
I feel:
Must share it till it is fresh in my mind.
There are at least three new beings on their way to this world. Which leads me to the conclusion that I really am different than most of people when it comes to approach to life. There is no regret in me that I've chosen less popular path, however I do feel something of an unease, a strange urge to pity others for their naive expectations. They think that all the horror and pain of life will avoid them and their children just because they deserve it. I cannot criticise someone who's already pregnant, and I have no right to manipulate or interfere into someone's life choices. But it makes me wanna scream: WHY? WHY? Don't you see life is pointless? I would give anything for not being born. And yet, we never have any choice, it just happens. And as soon as we die, the memory of our existence vanishes slowly but surely, until not a trace is being left. Unless you're Marylin Monroe. Or Walt Disney. Then perhaps you may exist for many decades in people's imagination.
I begin to wonder if I'm not obsessed with condition of my health .
Conversations with O. today didn't lift my spirits neither, he too doesn't see much of a sense in his life. And his relationship is falling apart even though he doesn't see it yet. Not only I cannot save him, but I can't save anybody I care about, even me.
*
Started new pyrography-the hawk.
Frames for my paintings have been ordered.
My tooth is killing me.
Got my tax return.
Heavy rain.
Hope to see some proper forest within a week.
I need a juicer.
Technically :22 days to go.
I feel:
of small steps towards change
19.06.2012
Well, then. I suppose I should start counting days, so here is the number: 24.
Tomorrow is the longest day in the year and soon it'll begin to shorten again. The very thought makes me feel uneasy. Threfore I should spend this day somewhere away from the city but it'll be unlikely so. Maybe some other time I'll celebrate it properly, with fire and dancing and such.
Generally am drifting through each and every passing day without any impessive achievements. At this point, even getting out of bed before eleven, might be considered as one. I do some cycling though, and I think I'll be in dire need of a bike when I finally join my Boy. There is some enthusiasm in me, when I think about leaving this place, but than again, I know that with time it'll diminish. It depends greatly upon my work, and plans for the future. Of course, assuming, that there WILL BE some future, not gianormous apocalypse. If so, still got about six months to enjoy ourselves. Sometimes I think that it would be marvellous if we were all blown to smithereens, or sunk or whatever, as humankind deserves to be punished by Nature, for it's impudence and stupidity beyond measure.
More likely though, it'll be a process of economical collapse, which already started and begins to consume one country after another. To such thing we can prepare ourselves. Building a smallhold, self-sufficient by all means-it isn't that hard after all, however it requires some nerves to battle beurocracy. It can be done as various examples show. I am ready to live in a hobbit hole.
With each passing year my disdain for people and what surrounds me, strengthen. And I do not expect to feel much better in U.K., as a matter of fact my misantrophy may worsen. I don't want to generalise, but it is plainly visible, that in England education became less important and the overall standard of schooling is much to be desired. Youngsters don't read books. They finish their education in their teens and become cheap labour, and after some time they turn into adults without priorities, spending all they money on binge drinking, drugs and items of general desire. And then they REPLICATE and live off benefits. Sometimes, they breed even earlier, which is a visible sign, that parents don't talk to children about such vital things as sex.
Where is the spirit of England? Where is this empire, which used to shape the history of the World?
I wonder, will I ever find place to call home?
Well, then. I suppose I should start counting days, so here is the number: 24.
Tomorrow is the longest day in the year and soon it'll begin to shorten again. The very thought makes me feel uneasy. Threfore I should spend this day somewhere away from the city but it'll be unlikely so. Maybe some other time I'll celebrate it properly, with fire and dancing and such.
Generally am drifting through each and every passing day without any impessive achievements. At this point, even getting out of bed before eleven, might be considered as one. I do some cycling though, and I think I'll be in dire need of a bike when I finally join my Boy. There is some enthusiasm in me, when I think about leaving this place, but than again, I know that with time it'll diminish. It depends greatly upon my work, and plans for the future. Of course, assuming, that there WILL BE some future, not gianormous apocalypse. If so, still got about six months to enjoy ourselves. Sometimes I think that it would be marvellous if we were all blown to smithereens, or sunk or whatever, as humankind deserves to be punished by Nature, for it's impudence and stupidity beyond measure.
More likely though, it'll be a process of economical collapse, which already started and begins to consume one country after another. To such thing we can prepare ourselves. Building a smallhold, self-sufficient by all means-it isn't that hard after all, however it requires some nerves to battle beurocracy. It can be done as various examples show. I am ready to live in a hobbit hole.
With each passing year my disdain for people and what surrounds me, strengthen. And I do not expect to feel much better in U.K., as a matter of fact my misantrophy may worsen. I don't want to generalise, but it is plainly visible, that in England education became less important and the overall standard of schooling is much to be desired. Youngsters don't read books. They finish their education in their teens and become cheap labour, and after some time they turn into adults without priorities, spending all they money on binge drinking, drugs and items of general desire. And then they REPLICATE and live off benefits. Sometimes, they breed even earlier, which is a visible sign, that parents don't talk to children about such vital things as sex.
Where is the spirit of England? Where is this empire, which used to shape the history of the World?
I wonder, will I ever find place to call home?
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