wet cat food for the system

A friend complained about this advertisement for Ms. Irina Allegrova. They explained that the Russian in the sign was over the top. The legislation on language in schools had just surfaced [for those who just joined us], and so he went a ramblin' on. Being a cultural observer, ever on the move to Closer, i noticed something different, the makeup. This was several months ago and now with all the festivities having just occurred all over the states supporting equality i'm on my way to purchase a ticket to see this lovely Irina. Cheers to you and the countless soldiers fallen to unbridled hate. Of course, it is more what the makeup symbolizes, as this style is worn by people in Armenia gender-spectrum wide. loving it.






The street in the mouth of my newly adopted street cat has yet to take its leave, meaning when This happens, i rinse and go for a refill.






Armenia has two closed borders. I'm curious as to whether "secure" in European Council language translates into "closed" or "open" How is this poster interpreted by the locals waiting for the subway - currently, that is information outside my cultural comprehension's reach. Bush era politics taught us that in order to feel secure we must recognize what to fear.



Here's to a stateside move away from such motivational tactics. did i mention i love The Metro?


"i remember searching for the perfect words
i was hoping you might change your mind
i remember a soldier sleeping next to me
riding on the metro"

Viva!

diminutives Never Suited Anyone

It's rude to call a developing country romantic or quaint. This place is what it is -

the mixture of old Russian and Armenian music played by the accordion player just behind the bus stop in the rain;

the woman that moves up to the seat next to the other woman when three boys dressed in army uniforms enter the van;

the men who stoically cross the street despite the absence of the green person cue;

the loud ticking coming from the old engine moving marshutka passengers along;

the thousands of delicate ankles wobbling above stilettos;

the young boys mocking the older man trying to make a living by calling out to potential passengers, those who cannot read, the destinations of each marshutka;

the vendor lady just outside the supermarket shoo-ing away the kitten from her herbs;

the women in the market making a big to-do about the girl who brought her own plastic bag for veggies;

an international volunteer choosing to study Russian over Armenian;

the weightlessness of an elder dancing to the sound of a duduk before a crowd gathered to celebrate his prolonged presence on the planet;

the official football team fan club lighting flares from the stands on the first goal of the game;

and all other minute things that warmly seep into your pores - the reminders that you are here.

more than a feeling

What will come after the attention grabbing police siren that taxis, marshutkas [mini buses], and lay people have installed in their cars? I seem to be hearing more of these nowadays, possibly meaning that just within this past year they've become more popular. It is the sound, inevitably accompanied by red and blue lights in the rear view mirror in many a nation, that wounds the soul and makes the wallet shriek. THIS is what is becoming preferred. It's like choosing bulimia because you like the taste of body processed food. It surely grabs the attention, but i inquire again as to what will come next. To be equally effective it would either have to be a device that actually throws a mannequin at the hood of the other car, or one that envelops the transgressor in a UFO beam. Hopefully, fear inducing tactics will slip out of their prominent place, the siren will be given back to the necessary institutions, and the creation of patient and considerate drivers will ensue.



There are several factors that make the new home situation a bit sick: 1) i have disregarded the agreement made with myself to hold off adoption of a feline until i knew i could communicate effectively in Armenian with the veterinarian, and 2) Lodi, the adoptee, is the Armenian doppelganger to the American Peoter, the grandchild my mother is caring for since i skirted off to the Caucasus. talk about replacement. #2 really is the most disturbing. I can imagine Peoter finding out this information and just turning the other cheek. Just like seeing a picture of a former partner's new mate looking uncannily like yourself. weird.





She was adopted on Armenia's independence day, Sept. 21st from an intersection in the center of town not far from the festivities. I treated her like any other furry one i see on the street, "kss kss"-ing at them to get their attention to see if they'll let me love on them. She took the bait, went further to let me hold her, then did the unthinkable - licked the thumb. Next thing i know i make a meager attempt to find an owner, which was asking the nearest restaurant worker if they knew who owned the cat. Yeah, that really made me feel better about nabbing her cute *ss, next second we were off in a taxi home bound. suckered into signing another contract...

Viva!

See Ya Mr. Pink Skirt

Yerevan Chapter 2 - fin. Here's to big Dutch audiences filled with drooling women throwing unmentionables. Thanks for sharing the house and filling it with discussions on spirituality/love, brother.