Россия пять: Kropotkinskaya, Lubyanka, Izmaylovo

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March 18th, 2009 - 2305 hrs

I think from now on I’m going to try to keep music in the background when I’m writing my entries. Granted this is not always possible but when it is boy let me tell you. Dusty Springfield, Dvorak, Duran Duran, Dr. Dre, and that’s just a semi-random few who seem to bring something out in my creatively. It makes sense when you think about it. Music inspires so much feeling in me that I can sometimes see the mental dots connect on lines of emotion and memory. And, when I read this, I don’t want to look back in anger at what I wrote or more importantly didn’t write. Slip inside the eye of your mind, as Oasis would say.

Last night was a unique story. I rounded up what turned out to be a larger than expected troupe of international students that included Guillam (French), Zara and Andres (Swedish), Ecat (Turkish), Carmen (Spanish), Bethany (Carolinian), Cara (Bostonian), Hannah (Floridian), Daria (British), and other others to join me at a pub called Rosie O’Grady’s. Supposed to be one of the only and best Irish pubs in Moscow…if it still existed. One wild goose chase later yours truly and company were at the Hard Rock Café in Old Arbat downing hot fudge brownie sundaes, good European beer, and cheap cigarettes. We finally got back to the university around 1:00 AM in very good spirits (a tale of two nights). Since St. Patrick’s Day in my book doesn’t end until dawn, me, Andres, and Daria stayed up drinking and watched Flight of the Concords. We later came close to passing out in the hallway around 4:00 AM. Ah…the good times.

Going back to my first passage about inspiration, the original impetus to write this entry revolved around a bit of daydreaming I was doing in class today. It’s not a usual occurrence since I need most every bit of attention span I can muster to keep up with our professor. Taking into account the lateness of last night’s escapades, the result shouldn’t be all too surprising. We wander the most not when we’re lost but when we let slip the way we know. That’s part of the fun of it. Oddly enough, I get no such pleasure thinking or writing about this dream of mine. I must admit I took a break from journal writing in the middle of this entry to go hang out with Andres, Zara, and Daria for more FOTC sessions. Why that distracts me from writing about this subject I do not know. But I’d guess if anything it has something to do with intimacy. After all, hanging out with new friends and confidants even if their company cannot be compared to that which I do/did/don’t/will desire fills voids in my life. That’s what we do for each other…we’re there in some shape or form. Well, I’ll go to bed now, but I’ll transcribe what I dreamed about in class another time for this same entry. Here’s a preview: long, slow, wet kisses are the subject.

2 days, 22 hours, 15 minutes ago, I dreamed that:

I can’t stop thinking about kissing him. Our heads tilt, looking for the perfect angle, the slightest slant to increase the pleasure. His tongue his soft and warm in body and spirit as tt strokes so gently me own. It doesn’t probe, prod, or push; just plays. Like a slow dance to ghosts of Maurice Jarre or an eight minute Death Cab for Cutie song. Two actors alone on their stage. My hand winds around the side of his head, stroking first his humid hair and then his right ear. The same hand of my supporter reaches around my globe and scratches the bumpy surface…much to my delight. Our eyes close at first contact. We get to know each other a bit, and then we wait, before we raise a glance to each other to see for sure you’re still standing there. Sex doesn’t even cross the mind, only a gentle intimacy.

Oy vey. I’ll leave this as an anonymous passage though I’d be obviously lying if I said there wasn’t, hasn’t ever been a boy I thought of like this. Reflective sigh; cheer up sleepy Jake. There ain’t no problem with daydream believing. Like walking out of a dorm on a snowy, drift morning, and think just maybe you’re king of the castle.


March 21st, 2009 - 1010 hrs

And so I pick up from where I left off. On this rather dreamily dreary day I ill partake in a politics class that has been four weeks in the making. How exactly we plan to make up for these lost hours I haven’t the slightest clue. But to be honest that conundrum rarely seems to waffle my noodle. Classes while occupying an important part of my current conscience are nevertheless being pushed to the side for Pushkin, Tolstoy, monasteries, statues, late night poker games, mobile karaoke, and the like. Its hard to concentrate when there’s so much around you that’s foreign (and I mean in the new sense, not the obvious one) to you awareness. Even sights I don’t care all too much to see I end up wanting to, quite probably because they’re just there. And its not just the seeing, it’s the doing: walking down a random side street and finding grocery store to randomly pick up toothpaste, shaving cream, and Guinness.

Back home this wouldn’t feel any different than a typical day of errands but everything seems amplified to the nth degree when in Russia. Example: trying to find the non-existent Irish pub earlier this week led us to an alley where we briefly congregated while being silly and taking pictures of each other. Idling by was a trio of police/military/guards/one of any number of people in this country who were fatigues (feels like at least one third). They approached us rather sternly and demanded that we delete the photos we took. Whether they were worried about being in the shots or that the establishment they surrounded as being photographed who knows but the situation still sticks with me. It’s like passing by a quite dog on the street and giving it slightest nod only to be met with a bark and a lunge. This is just one instance mind you but it serves two informative purposes: when you’re abroad, everything can be read more intensely in context, and expectations tend to run afoul of realizations, for the better and the worse.


March 22nd, 2009 - 0230 hrs

Hah…it’s a sigh of relief resulting from good conversation. Quite a bit of this day has had the enjoyment of fine chatter. We (Luke, Bethany, and I) toured the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour today in addition to the Pushkin Fine Arts Museum. Gave me the chance to learn more about Russian religiosity and stylistic painting in the same afternoon. Can’t go wrong with that. Plus, after the sightseeing, we joined up with Hannah, Ecat, and his friend Hugo at an Azerbaijani restaurant called Shesh Besh off Arbatskaya. Good food, good chai, good smoke, good chat followed in suite. We then went back to the university after which I headed off to Café Max for internet and the others went out clubbing, which I wasn’t feeling much tonight. Instead I caught up on homework, telecommunication, and phone dialogue I had been missing for over a month. Talking with home while intimidating prior to is found to be quite soothing and addictive resultantly. I forgot how much I missed random convos about apartment stories, work-related incidents, anniversaries, poking and stroking (sounds wrong but it is only half so), and the like. Circumstances may change, but feelings tend to linger.


March 23rd, 2009 - 2236 hrs

Last night, before going to bed, I was looking through some of my old Word documents of days gone by. Lack of the Internet in my room make the late hours of two to three less easily filled for restless sleepers. Of course, it also provides a chance to look closer at things you normally wouldn’t. Essays, school projects, pet projects, script ideas, notes to self, and the letter you write only four your own sensibility. In addition to realizing how often contrived, or maybe naïve is a better word, my conceptions of life could be, I also recognized the points of similarity and separation in how I view the world around me. An artist friend of mine once said that he realized his music knew him better than himself. Imagine listening to an old that way back when elicited something within you, only now to find that a second hearing brings a whole new emotion to the table. But you still remember what it was once like to feel those feelings. And when the feelings from the past relate to the thoughts of the present, the mind gets blown. Strangely gratifying and enlightening.

Think about the possibility of how the past relates to the present. Feelings rarely die out but thoughts so often change depending on the circumstances. Case in point: I once had very deep feelings for a former friend and former roommate of mine. After our living and situation and friendship became “former”, the way in which I thought of him was no longer the same nor could it ever be. Falling out with somebody not only is hard in the moment but lingers long into the future. Hence, I still have strong albeit conflicting feelings for this person despite the fact that I no longer think of him in the same way. The moral of the story is that scenarios such as these happen all the time in some form or another. And if we recognized this in the moment then maybe we would see the parallels in our lives. What better way to learn something about oneself is there than to compare what you had/had to what you have/had. Self-realization tends to be next step. Try it sometime; but be prepared for the consequences.


March 24th, 2009 - 1310 hrs

There’s a reason I don’t normally drink instant coffee. It does the job it needs to do but at what cost to my tongue and tummy. Oh well, I’ll take good chai if it means giving up on my man Joe for a couple months. In Russia tea is cheap and plentiful while coffee is hard to come by save the expensive cafes at long distances away. Interesting side fact, most people don’t drink tea out of teacups but rather in large glasses one would use for a beverage at dinner. This works fine for me seeing as how one can never go wrong with more of a good thing (famous last words maybe). At least I have access to my favorite caffeine sources. My friend Bethany has been trying since she got here to find a can, a bottle, even a drop of Dr. Pepper. No where in Moscow can you find it have our Russian friends said. Fun fact of the day: consumer culture here has an interesting obsession with Fanta and Nestea which you can find in mass quantites at any grocery store, restaurant, or sidewalk kiosk. The latter also sports tasty hot dogs, bliny, and beer. Drinking during the day doesn’t have the same stigma in Russia as it does in the States. Good or bad, take it as you will.

Weirdly, I find myself being concerned far less with the differences and struggles of living in Moscow as the days move ahead. Today marks the five month mark in my trip and with that time have come patterns in behavior and adjustments to life abroad. I should realize however that this could just be me diverting attention away from that which is really pertinent that which has less immediate relevance. I do this a lot, and it takes a good long sit or laying down in my bed to come to this conclusion. Have you ever felt that way before? Like your mind is a mess of confusion and concern and the only way to get through it is to just do nothing for a while? Some people use the technology (internet, tv, itunes), physical activity (sports, working out), mental activity (music-making, writing), nasty but pleasing habits (cigarettes, over-eating, over-drinking); anything to redirect their minds. It’s easier, and it helps; but sometimes its better just to sit with yourself. You make better sense of yourself that way I think. There are times when I wonder why I just can’t focus on the moment I’m in. My mom and I were talking about this a couple of nights ago. So much to think about in the course of a day it gets overwhelming. But as I alluded to before, you have to let things flow and stop observing until you’re ready for it. Own the feelings, sell the thoughts. Or so I think.

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