tā trauslā līnija ūdeņu krastā*

Reizi gadā es eju uz Nacionālo teātri. uz vienu konkrētu izrādi – “Teātra Žurka” (ar variācijām). un nē, man paši par sevi mūzikli nepatīk. man teātris vispār nepatīk, bet runa šoreiz nav par to. Izrādes īss kopsavilkums. “Ideālā Žurka” vēsta par to, kā īpaši atlasīti tēvadēli un mātesmeitas dodas uz Roņu salu celt ideālu Latviju. […]

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pūpolu svētdienā

no kaut kurienes manā vētrainajā jaunībā atceros Imanta Ziedoņa dzejoli par biti (citāts pēc atmiņas lejāk). un kaut kā šķiet, ka tas lielā mērā raksturo patreizējo situāciju LELB. ne jau aiz laba prāta bites mirst. Kad bite dzeloni lieto, Tad bite mirst. Vai bite zina, ka dzelonis Viņu no dzīves šķirs? Ar darbu viņa ir […]

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sometimes post

dear diary,  i know you are not my real diary, because i have no diary, only a scrapbook, and nobody addresses a scrapbook with ‘dear scrapbook’. well, i am rambling. and using my poetic licence to write imaginary things as i imagine them. so, dear diary… sometimes life tastes of dry leaves and burnt cabbage. […]

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epic again

so, this far: i have forgotten the mobile modem in riga. goodbye, internet communication. i clicked ‘do not save’ on a document i had been working on for six hours. goodbye, sanity (or is it reason?) i spent 3.5 hours travelling by coach, and listened to “Would It Kill You to Stop Doing That: A […]

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the unwritten

i thought about writing a long and maybe poetic post about my mother playing tetris. she was perfect at it. but i will not. because it would be too long and too poetic, and what is inside me is all raw and sore, and not poetic at all. she played tetris like a world champion […]

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three chrysanthemums in a vase/the roses are all wilted long ago;//do not come to me, seek me no more,/what has been, is all passed and gone there was a time when your eyes/held my gaze so tightly,//but now, in these dark autumn nights/all i have is a sad smile. she who comes first, will have […]

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innovative clock face*

i sometimes wonder**. what is wrong with the old clock face, with those little arms pointing at digits, a simple design we grew up with? what is it one gains, by abolishing the old and simple things, and craving the ‘innovative’? the curious thing is, that the ‘innovative’ does not mean ‘easier to understand’ or […]

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summarily a-b-c

tomorrow january will be over. so, this far: A) the Term paper presentations went reasonably well. part because my head of department clean forgot the invitation (i do think she missed loads of fun), and so the atmosphere was quite informal, yet shot with academic trends; part because i have the best students in the […]

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insomnia

creeps into my bed, following the patterns of moonlight. do i care? do i know. a friend said i looked tired. i guess i am. emotionally. but there is little respite right now. this week, and then two more weeks. to last, to survive. and then practice the non-celebration of birthday of birthdays. hide from […]

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a totally depressed post dealing with catching metaphoric crabs which cannot be drowned because of a headache

today, probably, i caught a crab. in the rowing sense. metaphorically speaking. the crab is quite big and, well, crabby. more of a crocodile, really. big, huge crabby croc. right under my metaphoric fragile boat. oh, cosmic forces of your choice, what a feeling. what a nauseatingly lonely, desperately sinking, overwhelmingly sad feeling this is. […]

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escaped

thus, i have escaped, in great hurry, from the place i used to call home. the place is ok. there is nothing wrong with the place. the lake and forest and all things are, actually, quite nice. but the last four days clearly showed that place alone is not enough. not enough for one to […]

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spring

the one that brings the different green to all those woods i will not go. why, oh why is every spring that depressing? in addition, the hdd of my laptop died on me. now i am in the process of  changing computers, reinstalling, recalibrating, re…ng. instead of translating or having fun. but the grass is […]

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avalanche

one of our cats (the one in the pic, where he sleeps on the laundry, as was his custom) got killed by falling snow and ice from the rooftop. now the farm is un-catted, cat-less, bereft of a noble hunter.

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