fragile

As we forget how fragile we are.

Happiness, eh?

Showering and Radio Tallinn which is the best jazz station I think I've ever heard/found.
(It's currently giving me some very relaxed beats, sung in Swedish.)
And letting yourself dry off.
Just stand there, and dry off.

I mean. No guilt, you know.
No guilt.
Guilt is fine, when it's necessary. But too much guilt? When there is nothing really to be guilty for?
That's the thing.

It is Saturday.
It's 5:22pm.
And it is all fine.

NOTE TO SELF:
M U S T make more videos.

It's just that kind of a day. In a pink towel.

(And what an idea. Horizontal showering.)

M.

lemme know

So let me know when you're lonely baby

sunbed cheeks

The best compliment I've heard this summer is "you outrageous lady".
What made it the best compliment was the fact that this was from a mature person, an esteemed teacher, about my performance of a Mozart aria.
SO MANY THINGS that don't usually count as outrageous.

But there I was. Outrageous. And a lady.
Love. IT. ALL.

So today I went on a date, with myself.
I am making a bit of a hoo-haa about it, but really - it was just that lovely.

I spend a lot of time out of the house. For some reason I don't get cosy at home, or comfy. Sometimes I do want to spend an entire night in, but this is so so, SO rare.
So I spend a lot of time out. And hence tonigh was triple cool. Because it was one of the best alone nights I've had, in such a long time.
Maybe it was the view from the large windows of the 9th floor, maybe it was the rain outside that was trickling down these large windows in the most cinematic way, ever, maybe it was the city lights, maybe it was the time (around 8pm), maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was what I was wearing, maybe it was the fact that I was warm, maybe it was the cheese on my risotto, or the 2 candles, or what-e-ver.
It just was.
And it was great.

One of those when you sit, and go, okay, this is life, I am here, and this is all good.

This is all good.
M.

(And 1am sunbed-cheeks. Yes, yes, yes,)

SÜGIS

 
 I'd like to speak elvish. That would be cool. The Tolkien kind of Elvish.

I would like to spend my entire autumn in that room (the last photo) with the leather sofa and the big map. Just planning, planning, planning my next move. Planning the next spring and the next summer. Eating bread that A. has made, and smother it with the triple citrus marmalade that I've made. ("Maria's Marmalade", of course.) I'd sit there and I'd plan. And therefore every autumn I wouldn't think well, this is silly, why the hell must I wear clothing, but instead, I'd know that this was time to plan. Proper hibernation.
And I would always have candles on the windowsill, so I could say "lights will guide you home", or at least will guide you to me. I think that's why I like the Estonian day for spirits ("hingedepäev"). It's somewhere very beginning of November. And it's just to commemorate. And you know, in case there are any lost spirits or souls out there, lighting candles so they know how to find their way. It is just lovely. And I like it so very much. It just triggers some sort of sentimentality, in me. And I like candles anyway.
Tomorrow might be a day for a cracking cup of cappuccino.

The one benefit of autumn is that I want to cook more. And I don't mean make food, but seriously cook. Something like the lamb ravioli and broth below. And bake. Because, I mean, cake and autumn is just something else.

Really working at this autumn thing.
Love,
M.

simple simple midnight pleasures

It's all good, really.


E. and I went swimming today. Bubbles, swimming, sauna and chats. I mean, come on.
Like a little fishy fish. Should have sung the Salmon dance song, really.

Friday is looming. Can't wait. (Seriously.)

Simple midnight pleasures - did my nails. They are now purring "autumn.." at me, and I don't really mind it. Something between good red wine, a ripe plum and some dark soggy leaves.
Sexy, sexy autumn.
Simple pleasure - playing with one's new phone, like it is the first phone anyone has ever seen or touched or you know. It's silly, but god, it's great fun. (Oh yea, and my phone's red as well. Ahhh, the patterns.)

Simple pleasure - Lord of the Rings, extended versions. I mean, just, YES.


And my phone background is a picture of really red trees. Nicer than the one below, but something along those lines.
I am shoving autumn in my own face. And starting to grow somewhat fonder of it. Shock therapy, or whatever.


So much shallow, shallow fun.
M.

9 good reasons

Saturday morning made me laugh.
I got a trolley bus home from town, at 08.03am, clear as a sunshiny day.
And it made me laugh, so very much. That whole situation.
And I think I giggled the whole way.
I was wearing a hat, and I wasn't cold.

The whole night was meant to end at 2am, when the right person asked me why I'm going the wrong way.
And then the smoky chats about the state of the arts, specific advice how to further my career, suburban slang, who would eat cats or dogs, how to raise your pigs, benefits of working in a gold mine in Australia, what makes an Estonian, lovely kind people, double-straws, wet feet dancing, shouting "SAY MY NAAAME!" whilst dancing with said wet feet, then the bean bag jumping, and the squealing, and the Cosmos, and the leftover Cosmo shots, and the morning, and the "Ich liebe" to Tallinn, and the 7.30am empty bottles to the bins.
This week just gone was incredible.

(Friday. what is that sparkle?
Ps, I promise I don't actually have a facial expression as unpleasant as that. My Dell snapshot central does that to me. And it's slightly hideous.
So for now, for the lack of a better face/expression, my apologies.)

 

And now I made pasta for dinner. I don't make good pasta and this was good.

And I replaced my old phone that just refused to work anymore.
And out of love, the old one is being repaired.
And the new one is nice.
As was the pasta.
So much nice, it's coming out of my ears.

I want to be a man, and I want to be the Count of Monte Cristo.
M.

a dying breed

Autumn in Tallinn. I haven't felt it in 6 years. And I have completely forgotten what it is like.
E. said the other day that it has been gradual. I literally woke up one morning and thought I had been smacked in the face with it.
It hits like a ton of bricks. But not solid bricks. But rather a ton of bricks that feel like a ton of clay mass, that you can't get rid of, or wash off, or anything. It's stuck to me, even when I sleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night, and think I'm cold.
And the worst part is, it makes me feel like I'm dying. Okay, not actually dying. Just the buzz or the excitement that I get during the summer, of just being and doing - I feel that dying.
The only, and I mean, THE ONLY thing I think I find appealing about autumn is the fact that Michael Bublé sounds divine. It just fits autumn. So it gets a point for that.

I like watching people. I was on the divine trolley-bus today, coming into town, and just watching people as the bus passed was so good. I was considering going round the town twice, just to see people.

A dying breed.
But maybe it's always been a dying breed.

These are strange times.
But then again, which times aren't?

I would like to love someone in Paris. In Paris, in an attic room, one autumn. Like in the operas, you know. Artists and attic rooms, and autumn, and leaves, and scarves, and markets, and candles.
I would like to love someone in Paris.
Now that would make an autumn.
M.

see it in your eyes

Rainy Monday morning.

What a cover, ladies and gentlemen.
M.

post-singing idyll

Children will be children.
Concrete grey.


My writings back in the day, before The Big Move, were so angry. Quick-tempered. Maybe I've lost my balls of writing.
Or maybe I've just calmed down. Or maybe I've just learnt how to calm down.

I did something good today. Something good for myself, and something I should be proud of.
So this is my moment of Congratulations-Maria-well-done.

"USALDA END JUHUSELE JA VAATA, MIS SAAB"
Trust youself to chance, and see what happens.

In retrospective it is kind of funny how scared I was of going away. I read it on paper, but I can't remember the feeling. I remember the night 23 days and 6 years ago when for the first time I packed my big red suitcase that has now become one of the 5 constants in my life. I remember the night, I remember my cat, my dad with some Coronas and lime (well done, Father) and I remember some numb panic. But the run-up - it's just gone.
Trust yourself to chance.

I'm kind of sorry I deleted my really melancholic blog, pre-dating the 2005 one.
I'd like to read it like now. A diary of sorts of how it has all been, and how it has gone.

Drum and bass gave it clarity. A very singular meaning and a razorsharp focus. Which was really lacking. Just non-existent.
M. is for Mayhem.

and every colour illuminates

Say my name.

Lucia, poor Lucia

(Little opera evening)



Lucia di Lammermoor.
Poor girl.

"Toi mon vivre"