tā trauslā līnija ūdeņu krastā*

Reizi gadā es eju uz Nacionālo teātri. uz vienu konkrētu izrādi – “Teātra Žurka” (ar variācijām). un nē, man paši par sevi mūzikli nepatīk. man teātris vispār nepatīk, bet runa šoreiz nav par to. Izrādes īss kopsavilkums. “Ideālā Žurka” vēsta par to, kā īpaši atlasīti tēvadēli un mātesmeitas dodas uz Roņu salu celt ideālu Latviju. […]

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pūpolu svētdienā

no kaut kurienes manā vētrainajā jaunībā atceros Imanta Ziedoņa dzejoli par biti (citāts pēc atmiņas lejāk). un kaut kā šķiet, ka tas lielā mērā raksturo patreizējo situāciju LELB. ne jau aiz laba prāta bites mirst. Kad bite dzeloni lieto, Tad bite mirst. Vai bite zina, ka dzelonis Viņu no dzīves šķirs? Ar darbu viņa ir […]

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sometimes post

dear diary,  i know you are not my real diary, because i have no diary, only a scrapbook, and nobody addresses a scrapbook with ‘dear scrapbook’. well, i am rambling. and using my poetic licence to write imaginary things as i imagine them. so, dear diary… sometimes life tastes of dry leaves and burnt cabbage. […]

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epic again

so, this far: i have forgotten the mobile modem in riga. goodbye, internet communication. i clicked ‘do not save’ on a document i had been working on for six hours. goodbye, sanity (or is it reason?) i spent 3.5 hours travelling by coach, and listened to “Would It Kill You to Stop Doing That: A […]

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the unwritten

i thought about writing a long and maybe poetic post about my mother playing tetris. she was perfect at it. but i will not. because it would be too long and too poetic, and what is inside me is all raw and sore, and not poetic at all. she played tetris like a world champion […]

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