grand prix weekend in the humble burg of one saintly peter …
so, i walk the streets, just tryin to get it right
end of the article [ha! turns out it was just half the time] bonus tracks: [war and peace]
my favourite interaction: i spent a bit of time with my lovely neighbors at the presbyterian re-tire-ment home (they were selling miscellaneous things of their own collection/making) so on one table, there were a bunch of ceramics. christmas, santa, etc. the largest piece was a lovely ceramic rooster. my mind went dirty. so I told the lovely lady that the piece was a little too on the nose for my apt. I don’t need another big cock. Thank God she started laughing. And then teasing me. “You need this piece, or are you a Chicken!” was her last sales attempt/jive. one of the best come backs I have ever heard.
I remember that event. I was 9 years old. Super-level boring. I was so excited for the ending though. The plan was to release a dule/pitying of doves. Yeah. Set the scene.
This event literally comes around once every 1000 years.
The doves had clipped wings, unbeknownst to the organizers. (pet shop doves?)
Moment comes. Doves don’t fly when their cages are opened.
Is there a better metaphor for the first 40 years of my life?
The impotence at such a time of importance. Ha!
THE ANSWER IS NOT “MOTHER” RUSSIA!!!
The answer also is not to play russian roulette:
What is the reason for danger in this scene?
I’ve already played russian roulette (with covid, on my bike negotiating with steel cars)
Why play again?
I already know the answer.
[My last vice: information ?]
I have learned how to “be in harmony” in the world. this is for the lovely e.e. c. who helped me reach this conclusion. She was also at the rummage sale. She is a reverend and recently joined an orthodox church. She had a long poem she recited to me. I noticed her initials were the same as e.e. cummings, and she had written a book of poetry on the grieving process. So, it took me a few minutes to find the quote [near the top of the article] I had floating around my head, because I did not want to paraphrase.
Now focus on love.
the power of naming:
what was my nickname in the advanced placement calculus at plymouth-salem? Mr. Cotner called me FUBAR. where did I get the most f’d up in saint petersburg back in the day? – not even aware of the irony!!! the power of suggestion?
and a final re-mind-er: I’ll always have kyiv in my heart, and I can return in my mind anytime I like. It does not mean I have to physically be there. I have my priorities, and the rest is non-essential.
It does not mean to ignore and avoid difficult topics, however.