Archive for April, 2010

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Oh give me a break

April 28, 2010

“This is a permanent threat to Ukraine’s territorial integrity because the Black Sea fleet is the outpost of the Russian state in Ukraine,” [protester Igor Derevyanko] was quoted as saying by the Associated Press news agency. – BBC

I kind of hate the fact that I need to point this out, but historically – Crimea wasn’t even a part of Ukraine. I mean, it was part of the Kievan Rus, sure (note the “Rus” in “Kievan Rus”). Most of the people who live there have stronger ties to Russia. There’s nothing weird about that either. It’s just the way it has worked out.

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Monday music: “some say life will beat you down”

April 26, 2010

Storms, storms all through the weekend, and me hiding from them in Lush and Topshop, mostly. Going through some of my old writing these last few days, I was struck how, at the age of 21 – 22, I felt that I would never be the heroine of a story again. That the stories were over, because I had grown up. I’m glad that life has been proving me wrong on that account – no matter how bizarrely it may choose to do so.

Obsessions – Marina and the Diamonds
Peligro – Manu Chao
The Scientist – Coldplay
Cum On Feel the Noize – Beat Crusaders
Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting – Elton John
Alternativa – Akvarium
I Don’t Like Your Band – Annie
re: Stacks – Bon Iver
Heartbreak Beat – the Psychedelic Furs
Just Lust – the Buzzcocks

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So this is what happens in this old Stalinka sometimes

April 24, 2010

What you see here is a kitchen sink full of sludge. To be precise, this is a kitchen sink full of sludge after some extensive cleaning efforts – so you can imagine just how much sludge was originally there. The sludge was also on the floor.

The pipes were being cleaned – and so I got a nice present waiting for me when I got home yesterday. Nothing says “happy Friday” quite like sludge, I think. The downstairs neighbours got it even worse.

(And yeah, yeah – I need to get this sink replaced – not that it would affect the occasional sludge-fests all that much – I need to do a lot of things to this place. Such as buy it out, for example. Anyone who cares to send ideas my way should also send money.)

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Uh, so I moved countries again, ya’ll

April 23, 2010

This is my 4th international move in 3 years. My stuff is still firmly scattered across three continents.  I am still out of breath. I’m kind of hoping that I will be able to catch it. I’m kind of hoping that I am done bouncing around for at least some time. It’s not too much to ask, I don’t think. Just slightly more demanding than the old “dear God, please don’t let a brick fall on my head” request.

From my desk, I can gaze upon one of the ugliest modern monuments that exist in the world today.

From my bedroom, I can look at one of the most beautiful odes to Stalinist architecture, and watch the Moscow River run on and on.

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Beauty is the path

April 18, 2010

I had a distressing conversation the other day. It went something like this:

“Man. I am bummed. I was involved in an exciting project, and now it’s over. And there are, like, hurt feelings on both sides. Bummer. Man.”

“Well, considering the fact that you use your looks to get involved in most exciting projects…”

“Er, what?”

“Oh, you heard me.”

“WHAT?”

“You heard me say ‘you heard me.’ I know it, because you flinched.”

“OMG! WTF? STFU! GTFO! DIAF!”

Etc.

I’m not Angelina Jolie and never will be, but, sure enough, I perform beauty while I’m still young. I checked out the spring collection at Naf Naf the other day, for example. I made it out of there with a pink strapless minidress adorned with large, purple, blue and white flowers that are vaguely reminiscent of a blown-up Japanese print. It’s layered, and make me look like a very complicated dessert and makes me feel like I live in a painting. I love it.

As much as I love it, I know that even this little dress can come with some big consequences attached. Why, I find out new and exciting things about me and people like me every day:

Read the rest of this entry ?

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“And she always knows her place”

April 17, 2010

Once upon a time, I was grocery shopping at one a.m., because I rock like that. And because, well, there were actually a couple of 24-hour grocery shops near to where I live (this is all part of a great cycle of enabling – “why buy orange juice and bread after I’m done with work, when I can just as easily do it at a point when I should be in REM sleep?”).

The man I went to the store with let me pay, then took the heavy grocery bag from me when I tried carrying it.

“Don’t be silly,” He grumbled as he took it from my hands. “Doesn’t your back still hurt?” (The super-exciting story of how I hurt my back boils down to this: do not sleep on the floor. Do NOT sleep on the floor especially if you have an old horse-riding injury that bothers you.)

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m used to doing the heavy lifting on my own, these days.”

“Well, you can cut it out for now,” he said in a way that immediately suggested that this particular conversation was over. I could have said, “and for how long, exactly, is ‘for now’?” I could have said, “and when ‘for now’ is over, I’ll go back to doing my thing.” I could have said, “alright, well, let’s just hang on for a bit here while I pin a shiny gold medal to your strapping chest.” Read the rest of this entry ?

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Tuesday music: hand of God got me by the collar

April 13, 2010

I’m at a moment in my life right now, where it feels like anything at all is possible. I’m scared – and excited. I can’t decide whether I’m more excited than scared, or scared than excited. It’s like I’m having an internal monologue based on Owen Wilson’s lines in that little-known art-house flick, “Armageddon.”

Chan Chan – Buena Vista Social Club
The Big Sleep – Bat For Lashes
Aramaic Barbarous Dawn – Ghost
Sanctus – Mozart
Good Morning Good Morning – the Beatles
A Kind of Magic – Queen
Goodnight Ladies – Lou Reed
Inner City Pressure – Flight of the Conchords
Ekzemplyar – Kryhitka
Ease – Hanne Hukkelberg

It’s OK if you’ve got a weak spot.
You don’t always have to be on top.

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Russian adoption debacle: I don’t believe that Torry Ann Hansen acted out of desperation

April 11, 2010

Much like Tracy Clark-Flory, I was struck by the tragedy of the case of Artyom Savelyev, a 7-year-old adoptee who was put alone on a plane back to Russia. He had been adopted by Tennessee resident Torry Ann Hansen, who, in the note she left with the boy, claimed that officials at a Russian orphanage tricked her into adopting a severe case – a child with too many psychological problems for her to deal with. Hansen’s mother spoke about how nobody could feel safe in the house with the boy, that he had threatened to burn the house down and even drew a picture of it.

I like to think that I appreciate, at least in theory, the challenge that adoptive parents like Hansen face. However, when, at the end of her piece, Tracy said:

it’s worth taking a moment to also ask what kind of desperation leads an adoptive mother to do such a thing

I had to do a double-take.

Here’s the thing – the very act of shipping a kid back to where he came from, like a gadget that broke before the warranty was up, is not desperate by definition. Relinquishing your parental rights is one thing, but the way that Hansen chose to go about it was not merely cruel – it was cynically convenient, calculated both to make an impact on the Russian authorities and, most importantly, the boy.

Hansen acted out her supposed desperation in a dehumanizing and humiliating fashion. This adopted child had hurt her, and so she hurt him back. Officials in Russia allegedly tricked her, and she decided to play her own joke on them. These are not the actions of a heartbroken parent. They’re the actions of someone who is, at best, a spoiled brat, shocked to discover that the world does not revolve around her and that there are, like, issues with raising adoptive children from volatile backgrounds sometimes!

What exactly is this damaged child supposed to do with this latest damage? That’s what I am wondering about. Assuming he was neglected and/or abused by his alcoholic birth mother, assuming he was neglected and/or abused at the orphanage, and even if we further assume that his time in Hansen’s home free of neglect and abuse (though considering Hansen’s stunt, there is room to doubt that), how is this kid supposed to grow up into even a shadow of a functioning adult in light of this debacle?

He suffered abandonment in front of the entire freaking world. Don’t tell me that Hansen didn’t know that this case would blow up in the media – of course she did. She wanted it to. She wanted to get back at those Russian officials back, at the further expense of this child’s sanity. Oh, and naturally, decent Americans whose international adoptions actually go well (or as best as they can make them go, considering different people’s circumstances) will get smeared in the ensuing mess too. Not that Hansen would care about any of that.

At the end of the day, whatever sympathy I may have felt for Hansen simply evaporates when I put her actions in context. Her act was symbolic, it was designed to hit with full force, and it succeeded. Congratulations, Ms. Hansen. You done me proud. I was just in a cab in Moscow, discussing your very case, reminding the driver that not all Americans are selfish jerks like you. The Russian authorities have every right to be wrathful. I’m wrathful too.

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Oh, Poland

April 10, 2010

(From a 1980 Tate Modern exhibition: Gilbert & George. Black Cross.)

There are no words for what happened just now. No good ones, anyway. This is a tragedy overlapping another tragedy (Katyn, that is, in case you don’t realize). I don’t even understand how something like this can be possible. This sort of thing belongs in screenplays. It shouldn’t happen to people. Nor should it happen to countries.

Like I said, I haven’t got the words.

…I stand in stillness, hear the migratory cranes,
Their necks and wings beyond the reach of preying hawks;
Hear where the glow-worms glide across the plains,

Where on its slippy underside a viper writhes through stalks.
Amid the hush I lean my ears down grassy lanes
And listen for a voice from home. Nobody talks.

- Adam Mickiewicz. Translated by Leo Yankevich.

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Not “just sex.” Just life.

April 7, 2010

There is green grass growing outside my window in Kiev. There are new puppies in the street. This isn’t exactly an spring-themed post, but this is nagging me, therefore…

A couple of people forwarded this post to me in the last few days, and I’ve been mulling it over. As I understand it, the gist of it is such: open relationships only benefit men, a “fun feminist” = idiot with Stockholm Syndrome, men who contract HIV apparently do it to screw other people over, and also a bit about how PIV intercourse should not be mandatory (which is something I wholeheartedly agree with, because I understand that it isn’t for everyone).

Well, damn.

I want to address the open relationship bit in particular, because I think that this is the sort of lazy, knee-jerk thinking that ensures that monogamy remains the standard outside of certain Muslim countries and, in the process, creates serious issues of prejudice and inequality in society. Read the rest of this entry ?

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