London rush.

I was rushing home from work on Thursday evening, around 5:30PM, when I was crossing the road from Fitzmaurice Place to Berkeley Square, I saw that guy. Curly dark hair, glasses, cobalt blue eyes, which met with mine and lingered on my face for a few significant moments.
As I say, I was rushing home.

"The Phantom".

The first time I saw “The Phantom of The Opera” was in September 2007. It was Saturday, my first full day in New York City, and I was exhausted from my flight the previous day, and from all day on foot, in the company of the guy I suddenly found I did not fancy at all (apart from his gorgeous dark lashes, incredibly thick and curly). We were sitting very close to the stage, and I was excited to see a live elephant, as my friend, who saw the musical in San Francisco, never stopped talking about the real animal on stage of the Californian theatre.
There was no elephant in NYC. My dress was uncomfortable (I never wore it again and sold it on ebay sometime ago). My eyelids were heavy and my eyes bloodshot. I think I fell asleep for a few minutes. That was my “The Phantom of The Opera” on Broadway.

I saw it again today. Good show. But I will still prefer “Les Miserables” any time of the day. That’s the difference between him and I – “The Phantom” was his favourite musical of all time.

And has nobody noticed that the music is essentially quite similar in these two shows?

Game.

Memory 4.

That flat in West Berlin. While he was cooking, we used to play this game, where he would say name of any American state, and I had to remember the capital, like:

California - Sacramento
Washington – Olympia
Alaska – Juneau
Arizona – Phoenix
Nebraska – Lincoln

Hours of fun. I still have to learn all of the states’ capitals.

Blue jeans and white t-shirts [and checked shirts].

back at ya, originally uploaded by rappensuncle.

This is such an amazing photo. With clear blue skies and warm sunshine outside, and “Blue Jeans and White T-shirts”.

This is how I feel today. Pretty nostalgic. And I keep thinking about

Memory 3.

Some time ago I was in an Irish (really?) pub, with my friend who was more than just a friend for a brief moment of one summer a couple of years ago (really? Well, I suppose so if both of our relationship statuses on facebook indicated that we were “in a relationship” with each other) and his male friends. So, Irish pub + beer + shuffle board game + “’59 Sound” as a background music (what a nice surprise – they played the whole album, is it even legal??) His friend and I kept looking at each other. And looking. And looking. And looking. We were playing in the opposite teams, at the opposite sides of the board. Maybe it was for the better, as if he were closer to me, I am sure there would have been some sort of explosion. All was left to do was just look at each other.
And then look some more.

Saskatchewan.

Not only I now know how to pronounce this wonderful word, I know how to spell it, too. And I desperately want to go there. Drive through it. Okay, just maybe fly over it on my way to Vancouver.


What a hot night.

No. 149

There are two trees just outside Exit 2 of the Undeground Station near my place. They are bare except for the bright pink flowers. These flowers are impossibly pink, the pink of the office highlighter. They are perfect.

Memory 2.

The tube did not work and I had to take the bus to work, sometime last June. No need to say that the bus stop was crowded with angry and annoyed people who fought their way to the entry doors of every bus. I was waiting for something impossible – a somewhat empty bus. And then my mobile rang. Unknown +1 number. I picked up – and it was him! I don’t remember why he called – was it the text I sent him the previous evening, or the email? The thing was, he called. He was concerned and I could hear that concern even though the actual words were more or less illegible, mixed with the morning traffic noises and shouts of the angry passengers. We talked and talked and talked. I got on no. 149 bus and we talked some more. And I was happy.

Shadow.

Not much has happened recently, I’ve been hanging out with my law books in the kitchen drinking buckets of tea all weekend. I wished I had a dog. He would be a black lab and his name would be Ferdinand. Or Tequila, if it would be a golden girl.

We are still covered by the giant cloud of ash. Actually, Shadow is a pretty cool name for a dog.

No flights for 5 days and the last time this happened it took two years for the atmosphere to clean itself (of course, it happened about two hundred years ago and nobody cared much).



Kentucky. That's where blue-eyed boys come from.

The smell of summer.

I was walking from Bond Street to Green Park station this afternoon. Saturday. The area was deadly quiet. Deserted. New asphalt was being put on the road near Berkeley Square. It was hot and it smelled hot. If I didn't see it being smeared there and then, I could have easily imagined it being a hot summer midday, and the smell being of the asphalt heated by the burning sun. And it would be the essence of the smell of summer in the city.

Sandals.

Ash clouds.

Sister Ray. 7 inch sold out. Why do I even want a 7 inch??

Sorta happy.

I have these shreds of memories. Millions of them.

Memory 1.

We were driving through twilight Berlin without car documents (which means a lot of trouble if you get stopped by German police), listening to radio and not speaking much. Streets were wide and empty. I love this about continental Europe. I was sorta happy.

Mission: possible

Hahaha, the power of thinking! The power of this Universe! You know how I had three tasks for my Berlin trip: 1. Meet Brazilian Alex – tick. Jule, Inna and I met him at the private party in one of the Berlin clubs. Actually the party was in the basement of the club, there were too many people none of us (even Alex) knew, so we took some pictures with Alex and quickly escaped to Felix. 2. Did not I meet German Alex? The Magician? I should have been more specific! It was German Alex KRAUSE I wanted to see! Jule spoke to him on the phone and invited him out but he was “busy”. Actually, I would be, too, if some unknown girl would be pestering me on the phone. And then Inna, and then myself. All three of us. So I met German Alex – tick. 3. I got the stamps in my passport. Tick.

Mission accomplished.

God bless.

Jule swears too much. She swears in English with strong (yet cute) German accent. This is addictive. Then she says things like: “God bless, we didn’t go to the afterparty. God bless, or you would have missed your flight!”
She is hilarious. After spending nearly 5 days with her, I find it hard to overcome the urge to use the f-word all the f-ing time.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Foals’ gig last night. There is no other band I enjoy more than Foals. Listen to them, get their CD, go to their gig, and dance and dance and dance… Man, Jimmy is so skinny.

I woke up at 4AM today. Flew to London. Went to work. I am in a bubble. The world around is warm and sunny compared to Berlin but I want to go back. Want to go back to the times when I could go backstage and chat with Jimmy, when I would get reply emails from him, when I could come to Berlin any weekend I wanted and Mark would meet me in the airport, when we would eat dozens of wursts during the weekend, when Dresden would be just a car ride away.

Some things are in the past. Some things will come. One day.

Yesterday it was Orange answer-phone. And what was I planning to say, anyway?

Ignorance.

Jule and I watched “Inglorious Basterds” last night. I enjoyed it enormously but then I thought, I bet half of America are thinking that that is how the WWII ended, with Hitler being blown up at the Paris cinema.

Maybe more than a half.

Jule’s friend Melanie told us the most hilarious story: one of her friends went to America for a year to work as a babysitter. It was Mid-West or Mid-South, where people are not so aware. Don’t get me wrong, I love people from the Middle America. So the birthday of the German girl was approaching and her host family wanted to throw a party, with balloons, confetti and cake with candles. And so they did. It was when the lights were dimmed and the cake appeared in the room, lit up by candles, that the German girl nearly threw up – the patter on her birthday cake was swastika crosses. Black crosses on the snow white icing. And candles, which she silently blew out.

Do I need to say more?

Brian Cross - my choice of a DJ!

Surprisingly excellent night at Felix. God, I love Berlin clubs. The best clubs on planet Earth. At least that is what I am thinking now, still drunk from champagne and all the good music I danced to. The DJ, Brian Cross, gave me cd AND his number, and said it was “very nice” to meet me.
I danced and danced and danced and the men were handsome and they kept approaching me and complementing me on my choice of t-shirt (Nabokov’s “Lolita”).

Jule was sulking in the corner. So we left early (about 5AM).

The Magician.

Berlin… 1st shocking thing: it’s freezing here! My first day, Jule and I went to Warschauer Straße, longingly started at the Universal headquarters, and walked along the newly-painted Berlin Wall. The Wall somehow lost its authenticity while it gained the brightness and freshness of new Germany. 20 years since the Berlin Wall fell. German government thought it was high-time to freshen it up last year.

Finally, finally I got my passport stamped with 4 different stamps (bargain deal – 4 stamps for Euro 2: East Berlin, West Berlin, People’s police and cute tiny stamp that neither I nor Jule could identify).

It was cold. It was pouring down. It was hailing. The wind was blowing hard. I was crying cold silent tears. We were strolling along the Wall and decided to go to McDonald’s (where else?) at Ostbahnhof to dry our wet-through clothes and shoes and bags.

Ostbahnhof is full of Asian restaurants – so cheap! Jule and I ended up having soup and some pasta at one of those and that’s where we met a magician… The guy (not surprisingly called Alex) came up to me and started to talk in German (I always found German incredibly sexy, and I felt all sexed-up when from his whole monologue I caught one word – sexy!) So, even without Jule’s aid I got it that the guy came up to me to tell me that I was sexy. Danke.

The three of us chatted for 5 minutes: he thought I was sexy, he wanted my email, I gave him my facebook and lied that I was in Berlin for a weekend only. As my friend S. says, I looked as if I were eating men for breakfast and did not need another Alex in my life. And then he pulled a pack of notes from his pocket (old newspaper cut into about 20 pieces shaped like banknotes). Jule looked at me, I looked at out bags, we both thought “weird” and my hands squeezed around my wallet. Alex kept talking and moving hands and then suddenly the cut newspaper pieces turned into Euro 20 banknotes! It was magic! And so Alex left, proud of himself that he had enough courage to come and talk to me. Don’t you just love German guys for this [courage]?

I ♥ Berlin.

John Lewis tights – No. 1 tights for ladders (5 different pairs from 5 to 30 den, all of them developed ladders and holes WITHIN MINUTES of wearing. And not because of toenails/nails/me not being cautious). Waste of money.

I am flying to Berlin in couple of hours and have some major plans: 1. Meet Brazilian Alex; 2. Meet German Alex; 3. Get my passport stamped with East and West Berlin stamps… erm… that’s it for now.

I ♥ Berlin.

2 years.

I watched "Scarface" last night for the first time. Something I would never admit to anybody (the first time bit). As I've heard so much about it, I was always able to carry a conversation about it. Old films make me feel young.

The weather is miserable yet again. And it’s the seventh of April. Two years ago it would be today that Mark and I attended the Foals gig in Berlin together. It would be two years and two days ago that I discovered Berlin for myself for the first time. It would be two years since I’d started seeing Mark. Didn’t last until Autumn 2008, but we had soo much fun.

I am thinking about him. Almost every day nowadays for some reason. He was such a good friend. I hope I will win him back. Please, Lord, let Mark and I be friends again.

I am waking up in the middle of the night and cannot go back to sleep for two nights in a row now. There are no thoughts in my head but my body feels hot and bloated and itchy. I turn and turn and turn in my bed and cannot fall back asleep. Is it exam worries (bitten my nails to the base yesterday trying to revise EU Law)? Is it money worries (I am awfully overdrawn)? No Starbucks, no shops and no travel for me at least for a month! Okay, I am going to Berlin on Friday but that was paid for long time ago.

My Hole tickets were delivered yesterday! :)

Made in Downtown L.A.

It was not only Easter weekend last weekend, it was also American Apparel Rummage Sale in London. S. and I went to check it out on Friday morning just to be turned down at the doors. Apparently, the demand for cheap plain t-shirts was so huge, that there was a cat fight and the warehouse had to be closed for a day. I can just picture trashy girls fighting over puke-coloured leggings.

Anyway, S. and I ended up at Starbucks eating rice cakes and talking about relationships. S. told me about her facebook note on relationships she wrote a few weeks ago and urged me to check it out. So I did. It was about the problem of asking men out yourself, rather than waiting for them to ask you. I disagreed. Because even if men are scared to approach you, they will find a way to get to know you - twice, TWICE I was approached by guys' friend/friends first, only later to discover that they started talking/befriending me first, because the men in question were scared to do it themselves. So, they WILL find ways, if they are really interested. Point made.

I actually got to attend the American Apparel sale on Sunday and it was not good. I bought a couple of t-shirts but otherwise it was quite chaotic in there and I did not see anything really exciting. I actually bought t-shirts just to justify my queuing for twenty minutes to get inside the warehouse.

Scary story.

I had a nap today, around 3PM, and as it was really sunny outside, I decided to use the sleeping mask my Mum took from the airplane on her flight from Moscow last December. The second I put the mask on the flat filled with some weird noises and cracks. I panicked and removed the mask - there was nothing. The room was warm and filled with April sunshine. The birds were singing outside and there was this happy noise of children kicking the leather football in the yard. I put the mask back on and within minutes the strange noises filled the flat yet again. The door to the bathroom, which was close, opened! I blame the opened bathroom window. But I can't help the fact that it never happened before. The bathroom window is opened all the time. The bathroom door usually stays closed.

Happy Easter!

Not a peep from DB, but I got a few blasts from the past this weekend, including a 20-minute phone call from Honolulu. Man, that was such a nice surprise! So nice that I even put up a photo of me and the Hawaiian surfer on the fridge.

Actually, I deleted DB's number from my phone. Not as if I would have ever called him again, anyway.

I was at the Easter tea-party today and met a gorgeous 35-year old. The thing is, our parents knew each other for ages and I used to play with his little brother when I was a 13-year old teen. I've never met the guy in question before, until it was decided that we should finally meet up and get to know each other as his wife (yes, wife) has given birth half a year ago, is quite new to London and would enjoy some female company. So we did (meet up that is). And they are both sweet people and I do not think anything will or could be possible with he and I. And I would not want anything to happen. But he is a true home-earner, and handsome, and a loving husband.

I guess I fell for the idea of some man being all three of the above. And being into photography, too. So they do exist. Happy Easter. Amen.

On Americans, Aquarius's and children.

Okay, so I text the Canadian Alex, and in a matter of minutes we were texting backwards and forwards. But what's in there? I suggested lunch, he said he was quite busy with work during the day but would be happy to have a drink or two after 9PM. We'll see.

It was pretty hard to do all the texting as I was walking around London with the American guy I promised to show around. I hope Alex did not take the huge gaps in my reply messages as an invitation to flirt (I hate when people do this and it is my rule not to create artificial gaps while texting).

So this American guy. He is 25 years old and an Aquarius. Well, I was always a bit apprehensive with the Aquarius's because regardless the fact that I should get along really well with them, I always find myself being hurt by the Water-Bearers.

So, a few facts about this particular American: he is from sunny California, lived in Maui and is now based in Florence. He can easily afford all this travel as he is trading securities online and is not tied to any particular place - the only thing that he is concerned about is the opening time of the NYSE, but it is much easier to wake up with it in Florence, around mid-afteroon, then when he lived in Hawaii and had to wake up in the middle of the night to trade. He is doing quite good for himself: buying Gucci suits and not having any set date to return to Florence. He just travels around Europe nowadays.

We walked around Central London, we went to Hammersmith to watch boat race (but it took us much more than 18 minutes to get to the start place, and the boat race was well and truly over by the time we got there). We checked out the Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts (it was the second time for me and I loved it again) and we ended up in the Irish pub in Soho. Regardless the fact that he is doing quite well with his trading activities, I was a bit put off with his stinginess. I don't know if I can call it stinginess but really, I find it quite tiring when buying a cider for me, a guy would say, before paying: "Oh, but you'll buy the second round." I mean, I would, anyway, there is no need to say it. It's a common curtsy, right? Unless you want to be a proper gentlemen and treat me to a drink, since I am the one spending Saturday with you, because you asked? Anyway, this is just angriness speaking. Normally, I am so freaked out by a guy that I do not fancy buying me a drink, I end up paying for his lunch.

Anyway, this guy, he reminded me of my first American love, the guy who is married to my distant cousin. They both have blond hair, light blue eyes, light 3-day stubble, straight noses (did I mention I am a sucker for beautiful noses? Yes, I am! I love beautiful straight noses on guys!!) Something in his movements and facial expressions was painfully reminding me of that other guy. It was distracting and disturbing at the same time, like, I would look at him and listen to what he would be saying, only the next second realising that at some stage I stopped listening and started to examine his facial features, memories of the other face awakening in my brain. Although, thankfully, the young American Aquarius was not painfully attractive. He was somewhat funny and tall and blond, but that is not enough, right? Too right. And even his blue tattoo across his wide shoulder blades did not help (oh don't ask how I got to see it...) Another selfish and greedy man is the last thing I need right now. And I thought he is quite selfish after his 2-minute remark on how he hated children. Believe me, 2-minute talk on hating children is long enough to not want to be attracted to a guy, even if you did not want to have his babies in the first place and just wanted to have some fun.

Good night.

Wanted: wise male friend.

Going back to last Friday, when I met two Canadian brothers, and one of them, Alex, took me to his room and explained to me that I should not let people treat me like DB did. So far, I've been good. I did not email DB, and actually the best part is this: I did not feel the need or desire to email him. Okay, truth to be told, he sent me two texts last Sunday and I replied to both of them ("Are you still upset?" No, just angry that you did not work me to the station [feel the sarcasm here??] "I promise I will make it up to you." Promises, promises...)

Anyway, I sent a message via facebook to Alex saying that it was good to meet him and that it would be nice to actually see him in real life sometime, too, rather than be facebook "friends". He replied straight away with his mobile number, urging to call or text him "anytime". My initial reaction was HELL NO, is he kidding? I was about to send him a message with my number saying that if he would really love to meet me again, he should call or text ME. But then I thought, stop. I do not want him to be my boyfriend or to chase me, I just want to meet up with him and have some fun, some laughs, some drinks, without being obsessed on whether he is going to text me after and whether there is going to be a second "date". I just want a male friend. A wise male friend. So I will definitely text him really soon.

Five books a month.

I made a resolution to read at least (AT LEAST!) 5 books a months. For March there were 6:

“A Scattering” by Christopher Reid
“Life After God” by Douglas Coupland (I love Douglas Coupland. I guess it’s my second favourite book by him after “Eleanor Rigby”, which is just fantastic in a sad way, actually, sad in a fantastic way... either way)
“I was told there’d be cake” by Sloane Crosley (amusing collection of essays – recommended to everybody)
“Her Fearful Symmetry” by Audrey Niffenegger
“The Gates” by John Connolly
“All That Glitters” by Pearl Lowe (this is the book of March for me)

April's fool?

Fact no. 1: My friend Pippa works for an established newspaper. She is an international affairs journalist and for sometime now she is moaning how fed-up she is with never-ending arrays of articles about Iraq she has to produce almost daily.
Fact no. 2: The best pyjamas are sold in Gap, the same goes for home bodywear and underwear. Gap were stocking adorable knickers with ice-skates last Christmas and I got a few pairs as a joke for my girlfriends – I attached those to their Christmas cards for merry Crimbo delight.

Anyway, a few minutes ago I received email from Pippa with the following question (it’s this time of the day and I know she is writing about Iraq yet again):

“You know those ice-skating pants you got me? Are they for winter wear only or could I be wearing those in spring, too?”

People make me laugh. I know it’s not the best April’s fool day joke, but it ain’t no joke!