nasha mama - diaspora!

remember things, things that are eternal...
remember things...you forgot those things
nelzja ponjat, nelzja izmerit,
tolko prossat', i tolko vyt'!...

to make it all even more crooked
is impossibility of suicide
you pull the trigger, yet you are still standing...
just somewhere else, but with same dick in your hand.

and dogs were barking, and the guests were parking
and the monkeys clapping and girls were cutting loose
thinking of things, things that are eternal,
when her mother came up to me and said...

"PARTY!"

i met a crazy dancer,
a party tabashi
she held me by the hair,
i held her by the ass

nananana...
she was a crazy dancer..

utila and a fire

in this ethereal world we are like dancing creatures of the night..



shadows of things around a fire grow very large and dance even when there is no movement. i marvel at the thought of those who stand alone or the thought of lovers covered in blankets making one shadow dance behind them while they hold each other by the fire. on this beach you can find strange and curious treasures - pieces of fishing line with a brass hook, sea shells, bird feathers, driftwood, stones and animal skeletons. as their shaman i walk alone through the darkness and into the otherworld. my dreams are lucid and under the magic of datura i cast my selves into their conciousness and tell them not what they want to hear. we build our tents and decorate them with treasures brought home by our lovers. we tie branches and flowers together and string bottlecaps to them as if to create a fetish placed by our tents.



on windy nights like these the fire hangs sideways and our shadows flow in waves across the sand. "ua alu atu le afi!" and it becomes too much. sparks and pieces of ember burn holes into the sides of our tents but we are not affraid. we would later thank the gods for the speckles of moonlight they have sent through our tents as they have sent starlight through the holes in our sky. "fai fai pea!"



i look over to you and we say nothing. the silence is thick and we hold our glances without having to speak at all. our time here is short and it has been written for us to sojourn towards other fires and other moons. this surreal land of nighttime binds the days together and the winds carry our stories across the sea.



just stay with me a little longer..

the supreme commander

whereas i don't usually write in a personal manner to this degree, events of this christmas eve have left me laying on my floor staring at the ceiling. today was a day worth documenting because telling the story is less of an option than of necessity. This is because my father, who has been suffering for nearly three years with a rare and miserating inner-ear problem that cost him his livlihood, had surgery today. his sense of balance had over time been thrashed due to a total of three holes upon a vital section of his inner-ear that has been proven to cause unbearable dizziness and a critical loss in the sense of his placement of surroundings. frankly though, he has absolutely felt like shit.



it's the day before christmas. my mother and i spent the early morning to the early afternoon waiting for my dad to have his head cut open. the doctor, Dr. Seilesh C. Babu MD, was to go in through the left side of my dad's head and in fact slightly move his brain in order to reach his inner-ear. he then, and successfully, repaired the superior semicircle canal where three holes had grown on this tiny organ which is 1/10 the width of a milimeter. should this fix the problem, which a matter of a few months will tell, then my dad can go back to leading a healthy and happy life.

Dr. Babu came out of the operating room to tell us that everything went extraordinarily well. part of the problem as of all this time was the innability to locate the problem's source and it should be mentioned that it was until extremely recently in history that the inner-ear has been operated on to this extent.

f#@%ing right on..

even in Madagascar

instead you run to your little birdfeeder
and stick your beak in the seeds your master laid
where did they came from? who put them in there?
Oh you will never know their name!
But there is a room where bustle and merry
and big ceremony could be going on,
where your true talents along with birthrights
could be dancing
'Cus even in Madagascar... and even in Antarctica!
even in Azerbaijan!
Put two turntables and a film projector in that room
and punk rock 'n' roll most faithfully...
it will occur!

türkçe mükfiş

what will become of...?

i'll meet you there... when it's warmer

the world of sights and sounds

she's got this thing with eye contact. she rarely looks people in the eyes, so naturally when she does it makes you feel like something you have said has struck a chord with her. this makes you want to be the one that opens her eyes and show her how beautiful the world is. you want to be the one that climbs trees with her and lay your head on her stomach at night. she dances to the beat of her own drum but i know she's not happy. sometimes people dance even though they aren't happy. and when the world of sights and sounds tied it's pet demons to her life she just closed her eyes and danced.

ohh.. the places you'll go!

in this world of sights and sounds we catch glimpses of other cultures and livlihoods. we are invited into the homes of people who speak in strange tongues and they feed us strange foods that don't seem that strange too them. and when we travel we get lonely. we look for love and comfort in the shapes of things we recognize and smells that smell like home. but as my backpack sits in the corner of my cold bedroom i marvel in the way that it soaks up the scents of incense and dirty clothes in hopes that enough will be absorbed when i travel again. it has become like family to me. sometimes in strange faraway lands i use it like a pillow. at airports where i have no friends i act like i am looking for something to no avail then i ask the stranger next to me if they've got the time. i once woke up in the airport at las vegas to find three beautiful women giggling at me and how i apparently talk in my sleep. my hair was greased to a sloppy mess on one side and i had lines on my face closely resembling those of the straps of my bag.

i think of places i've been and i smile thinking of how much they've changed over time. i think of the huge buildings in shanghai and how they have surely doubled in size over the year that it's been since i've visited. i think of the bridge that was under construction in apia promising to increase commercial affairs to the samoan capital and how it is definately finished by now. i think of this strange village i once saw in haiti and i think about how poor the people were there. i wonder if anything has changed. i think about a man named mika from tokelau who i met on a faraway ocean and i think about how he has been living the same life as a talented fisherman for years and i wonder if he is still out there hunting delicious oily unicorn fish with the greatest of ease.

so this makes me look from my window into the pending nastiness of detroit winter and i toughen up a little bit. in reality of all the places i've traveled to detroit is the craziest. have you ever been here? our parties are dirty and smokey and they take place in old warehouses and industrial centers beginning at 2 in the morning. we have no laws here and that is not always a bad thing but it is defiantely not always a good thing either. whereas life has thrown me a sidewinder and asked me to spend another winter here before i take a great plunge into the mediterranean early next year i have chosen to embrace it.. and enjoy it. i love this city and i cannot hide that whenever i travel i take with me a piece of my hometown with me. for now i walk through the cold dirty halls of my strange city's strange buildings and i laugh about how people are affraid to come here. and they should be.

lambp

**for other videos look up 'myneighborhank' on youtube

all the love that i've found

as those among us walk with no direction and march with incredible speed i wonder to myself where we are going and why we are moving so fast. their faces look emotionless or confused and their desires are displayed clearly leaving no room for imagination. a man turns to check out the view of a pretty girl from behind and a child stares endlessly at the passerby of a different race as if they are an alien. and quickly they walk to their offices and to their jobs and to their processed lunches and to their television sets. and all the while they swear they know where they are going without ever stopping to ask for directions. the looks on their faces are priceless.

somehow we feel this need to validate every moment we exist as if we are trying to assemble some sort of bigger meaning to our lives in the hopes that our destinies will be fulfilled. why do we do this? why is it that we must analyze every moment as if it means something? a moment is what it is and just in the same liking as matter, it cannot be created or destroyed. each moment bears a faint resemblence to something we reach so desperately for when sometimes we'd be better off staying in bed. is there a better way? brother things can always be better than this..

seek first old men. fill them with whiskey and ask them about the good old days. seek secondly small children. fill them with candy and ask them about the future. finally seek yourself and fill yourself with love and empathy and ask yourself about where you fit in the world.

as it has been said to me, "it's your world, i'm just living in it.." i could find no greater truth than those words as i have come to understand that to each individual the world revolves around each of us. i am a character in everybody else's lives. i am a supporting actor and i am no more real than the impression i give. i am a smile from a pretty girl and i am a cold stare from someone who wishes me harm. i am a collection of every experience i have ever come to know and i am accountable for every breath i take. we have searched for love and found each other.. whoever we are.. and we are no more deserving than our brothers. when life blesses us with love we take it for granted and often fail to kiss each other goodnight. but there is love. and this love is available to those who open their hearts. and this love operates by chance and uncertainty; should we ignore it then it shall be no more real than the fleeting illusions of our fantasies.

salem,
mookfish

an email to myself

On Sun, Nov 9, 2008 at 9:41 AM, Christopia Ardagna wrote:
i almost want to begin this letter with a note that says: "this is to you" however these things best be left in the ambiguity of being cryptic. and i code these words not to leave one in the dark while another would know exactly what i'm talking about however i do this because 'dear diary' is boring. things have been crazy. almost overwhelming although i'm not sure i've ever felt that i could consider myself whelmed whatever that means. by calling things crazy i'm not suggesting that there have been events that have been hard to handle, although they are, but i'm referring to the times in between. times like a few days ago when i vanished completely from the world and hid on belle isle. for some reason that day had no clouds in the sky and the weather was maybe 71 degrees so i found a spot on the beach. i mused myself all day with the tiny life forms and beach leavings i had chanced upon like twigs shrubs and twigs and those pointy burrs that stick to everything. that day i unearthed all sorts of things each more amazing than the last and all of them drove me wild with curiosity about what else could be found on this faraway land. the nicest part was that the beach spot i had found was on a slight hill of sand that made for cover from passing traffic and nobody could see me besides the occasional child in the a backseat who waves. i marveled in a strange set of those helicopter things and their symmetry made me smile. before long i had a kingdom created. my throne was made of sand and my throne room displayed the various treasure from faraway shores i had collected.

and i think of people and how stinking weird they are some times.

i have this habit of switching people with cats in my head. if not cats then other strange beasts with odd behavior. i imagine someone throwing a shiney object into a crowd of humans and suddenly pandamonium ensues. or a female human with huge boobs walks by and male humans begin fighting and hitting each other with sticks.

i like to observe these strange creatures. sometimes i play little tricks on them by writing strange notes and slipping them into the pockets of their strange clothing. they are fragile minding creatures and can be easily manipulated. they are funny when you put alcohol in them. they do strange dances and their speech becomes very different. if you give them too much they will become prone to violence and debauchery however don't worry because their memories of their actions will be hazy.

we should carry sharpes more often. i think it would be in our best interest to carry a useful tool like a marker everywehre we go because everywhere there is art. and more people need cryptic messages folded and placed in their pockets.

on musings: seek love. pursue loving kindness and be well happy and peaceful. with love greet all life forms with admiration and wonderment. laugh and smile and do not allow those who do not laugh and smile to bring you down.

Geivanna (Jennie) Ardagna

10/4/1925 - 11/4/2008

i love you grandma,
your godi duji

saying blah blah and cursing at the sunset

when it's cold it is very cold. there are many ways to go about keeping one's home warm in the winter time. how you choose to build your fortifications is a crucial decision and every angle must be calculated. it is like preparing for a siege. recently discovered the goodness of hanging blankets over my windows. now i'm excited about my room. it looks like a really cool tent with random trinkets from around the world carelessly piled. im getting a sword and thats final. miss having a sword. when it's windy in the summer and my windows are open the breeze makes my tent's canvas flap and the cool air feels good.

my room is where i escape from and create new fiction. cold floor. i haven't decided if i'm going to show my room yet in this post but we'll see. listen to:

Chan Chan by buena vista social club

no wait.. watch it on youtube.. so good..

now i'm fluttered and i want to jam. pylemoon is fast approaching with merriment and boozery for all.

in china i once saw the coolest thing i've ever seen. it was in beijing. the city of beijing is a big series of circles. the center is a picture of chairman mao (ps mao means cat i learned) fastened to the forehead of the dragon: forbidden city. it's true. it's shaped like a dragon head. it faces across the street to the capital buildings and all of china's politics are handled in this immense epicenter. the street is crazy the divides the two because it is too big to walk across, you have to take a tunnel. and many streets in china are like this. in shanghai there are tons of them thus creating an elaborate underground connected to an intricate and widely used subway system. a 45 minute trip will take you for miles and miles and you'll still not cover the diameter of the city.

but back to beijing, the city of circles. there are circles printed on stones that make up the city's streets. in the first few rings of the city closest to the center the entirety of the community is covered in beautiful parks and recreation. there are gyms inside and out side there are all sort of outdoor workout equipment distributed and it's really cool. you'll see old people stretching everywhere you go and everyone seems to be very healthy. i saw this in the spring. in one of the parks we found a large group of people mostly old men bearing the same resemblance of retired military. they were singing. one man if not two were playing accordion and everyone knew the words. the music sounded of out hymns from long ago when these men were young soldiers they would sing at bars while on leave. i could see them in my head, getting fucked up and grabbin' pretty ladies just like soldiers on leave anywhere in the world. and their music was really quite beautiful.

this takes my mind all over the world. everywhere there is music.

on busking

Sometimes the customers threw something in the hats.
Sometimes they took something out of the hats.
Sometimes they took the hats.

And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak.

seek love.

it was the ducks

i could close my eyes and taste all of the sounds that come in from my window. they taste different late at night or early in the morning if you choose to look at it that way. i wake up to the sound of activity from inside that i can pinpoint without failure where in my building those sounds are coming from. i know when someone is in my house that doesn't live here because i can sense their being. they often startle me, as many things often startle me, and i lay in bed using my wild imagination of what could be going on outside my door. and then i fall asleep dreaming. last night i watched my conciousness slowly turn into dream state and just as Alice slowly descended into the rabbit hole and I watched as my logic and senseable train of thought drited slipped into illogic. and it worries me that this may be the extent of all that is meaningful to dreams. these thoughts are just residue from the day as my brain goes on power-save mode. but there is some meaning that can still be extracted. this meaning comes when we wake up and for a few minutes it is as if we are still dreaming. with every five minutes or so our recolection of this dream might as well have split in half until it is no more than a strange memory. however if we are careful and if we want it badly enough we can slowly slip back into our sleep without alarming the chemicals in our head thus causing damage to our dream that cannot be repaired. if this goes well we find ourselves back where we started with little to no difference from when we left off, or so it seems. Last week sometime I had this phenomenon twice as i found myself in the same dream three times however by the third time things just weren't the same. i was having a mystical dream about a person who i once saw the moon wink at and upon waking up i was overjoyed to have seen them again. it was as if i was right there in the sand with the moon blinking her eye at me and i can almost taste the sounds from the beach. after waking up the third and final time i began to think to myself that this was a very inspirational dream although i'm not sure how so. i stood up and stretched properly and with every pulling of each muscle i felt pieces of that dream being evenly dispersed throughout my body. i wanted to take this dream with me everywhere that day. it was however only a matter of time later that i became sad by this dream because of the great amount of time between this present day and the time the moon winked at us.

Türkiye

documentation folder on my desktop

Ленинград

it is our persistence and our will power that drives us to our potential. it is this things also that help us back to our feet when we are knocked down and if for one moment we lose track of our self-worth then we too are doomed. i imagine life as a walk through a shallow current and all around us there are forces trying to pull us under. sometimes all it takes is a little extra push to keep our heads above the surface long so that we do not lose sight of our goals in the distance. the moment our heads go under the world becomes blurry and sounds are muffled and we start to drown. it may be a difficult struggle but it is a battle that we who care about anything are willing to fight. and we are proud of our diligence. these days it is harder and harder to get a grip on the proverbial life line that pulls us safely to shore but we who care enough do not give up. we are told there is a land of milk and honey on the other side and our sweet tooth is dying for a taste. some feel they can float through life and whereas it is easy to do so there is a great shame to this because before long we forget that they were even struggling against the current to begin with but rather they float far away blindly to the unknown dangers up ahead. i choose not to float any longer. i am no more the free spirited winged creature that feels life is a fairy tale but rather i am now a fighter and i'm getting stronger every day. i've given up on trying to reason with a world that only wishes to play tricks on me. i choose to be free from illusion. i choose to take my steps boldly and carefully so as not to slip on the wet rocks under my feet. i'll hold the hands of those who i feel really care about my dreams to one day cross the river and not be fooled by those who want me to float away. i am worth more than this.

seventeen years

in the kingdom of the blind*

perhaps the best part about being a human is our ability to interact with and experience other humans. in doing so we can both learn and prosper from each other while maintaining a certain level of respect that our interactions cause no harm but rather lift each other in spirits. i really never understood why people argue with those who they care about. argument, although sometimes beneficial, is really just the banging together of proverbial ram's horned egos in some vain attempt to boost oneself's sense of worth. all too often we thrive on hearning our own voices either spoken or repeating in our head while we are being spoken to. conversation has much more potential and meaning than this. it is our chance to peer into the worlds of our friends and fellow human beings to catch a glimpse of how the universe appears with them at the center. having said that i feel that some of my most beneficial moments as a social animal have occured during times of my personal decision to remain mostly silent in conversation. you dont really learn anything by talking but rather from listening and observing. if somebody is arguing with you a point that you find to be false then eventually the truth will reveal itself as it always does.

the aspect of being that has always tickled my fancy: non-verbal communication. words aren't the only way that we animals of similar being engage in communications. in fact we say more with our facial gestures and body language than our lips could ever speak. our minds are incredible machines that process loads of information regarding our surroundings and interactions that words could never justify. one should not belittle their emotions by trying to find the right words. speak rather with your mind and body and there will be no confusion.

so here i sit. upright mammalian. brown-haired male of european descent. moderately-heavy tattooed. bearing the dirt in my pockets and lines of a million smiles with a few scars on my face. i reside on a great space ship that travels around the sun. on board i communicate and converse with my fellow species in some wild attempt to make sense of our travels together through space. our time here together is brief yet through some manner little pieces of ourselves remain on this vessel even after we have departed. i have two working hands that can either create or destroy. i choose creation. i choose to leave in my wake a myriad of mysterious glyphs on bathroom mirrors and beautiful music from any instrument i chance upon. my travels have only just begun.


*the man with one eye will be king.

warm colours

i'd be lying if i said i didnt miss living in a house sometimes.

i'm over it though.

we have better lighting here.

it is unwise to ever get caught up in memories of places we have lived in the past because they dont exist to us anymore.

flood your head with questions of 'where will i live next?' or 'what can i do to change this place?'.

change is exactly what is in store for all of us before long.

donate some rugs to us.. this floor is about to get cold



do you find your emotions palettable?

do you even have emotions anymore?

perhaps emotions are seasonal and this time of year we run low on emotions just as our summertime is running low.

i bet we get a whole new set of emotions come autumn.

i wonder what the leaves will look like from the loft.

the ivy on the church across the alley is going to die and look like veins.



empirical evidence.



hardly anything here that we didn't bring is made of wood.

projected video looks better on grey/silver instead of white.

everyone looks better when they dress up.

huu is affraid of heavy rain.

sometimes i sleep backwards just to freak myself out when i wake up.

bikes get lonely when you leave them chained up too long.

leaves make wind.

i still believe in vampires.

i'm caught in the grit of the city... madness

i think i'm getting closer to understanding more about what intruiges me most.

all the while i cannot shake the feelings that i've made a great mistake about this time last year. appologies for the vagueness of a comment like this and deeper appologies for how esoteric my thoughts must remain but there is a deep regret that burdens my heart as i look towards the looming autumn. i wronged somebody in a terrible way last year. somebody who could have offered me a golden ticket to the universal matinee. the first showing began in an ancient city and i blew it. i'll not be bogged down by my failures but i'll never forgive myself for letting go of something very special and unique. having said that, i must point out that nobody reading this will know what i am talking about beyond any of their guesses, this is simply a letter to myself so that in some strange undeserving way the universe will forgive me.

thus said.. i can only move on -sa'o lelei-


today marks the beginning of something daring and spectacular. today is the day i throw my hands to the sky and beg for a miracle. in good faith i share my secrets (and i have many) with the universe in respect that only she can level with me. she told me that when i was young she touched my forehead and promised that my life would be everything but typical and she's always kept her promises. and for the record my life doesn't suck.. i've waited 26 and a half years to say that but it feels good and i'll say it again -my life doesn't suck. what does suck is the stigma of being so secretive. it sucks that i cannot find that person i'm looking for who i can pour out all of my thoughts on a friendship level without causing some level of harm. i've always wanted to find that friend that would hold my secrets safely and not laugh at how childish i truly am. secrets like how i feel bad for my bike when i leave it out in the rain. guess it's not a secret anymore..

maybe i'm the typical only child. the one who still has imaginary friends and still believes that one day i'll learn how to cast spells. the one who ironically is least understood by other only children. maybe i get off too much on my pretend world and i should spend less time faking accents and dressing the part and more time trying to reach out to other people. it's fun though.. i love dressing up and carrying a breifcase while sitting in on law school lectures telling people i've transfered from Berlin. sometimes i wonder if my friends are a manifestation of my imagination. i look at each of them and find qualities in myself and it all begins to make sense. i feel as if i could devide my brain into a myriad of different character traits and in each of those would become people who i love dearly. for this i am the luckiest kid alive. i mentioned that my life doesn't suck right? i think i'm doing alright. when i'm drunk i make noise but otherwise live the quiet life. well.. when i'm drunk i make a lot of noise and wake up to a series of voice mails. recently i woke up to a message that i "got the job if i'm still interested" apparently when i drink i apply for jobs.. who knew? thats kinda funny..



i love you

habibi

tribal connection

we've seen three continents together.. so long old friend.. (2001-2008)

yeah.. i'm a hustler baby..