this one goes out to alai

....was in my gym today and they were doing some kind of aerobics on the second floor.... they had their special music going....russians, like continental europeans - who they both dread and desire to become one day - love the techno..... and on came a techno trash version of "EYE OF THE TIGER".....and it reminded me at first of good ole wesleyan lifting days...... in free-wook before some glorious steaming and 50 free.....and I was under the bench, and I got all pumped up....like when I was in high school and I was lifting for football and the 12th graders stood around yelling "DO IT DO IT"...... and you feel the burning in your chest.... AND THE BAR CAME DOWN......but then I realized it was some kind of EYE OF THE TIGER EuRO REMIX ..... with a techno beat under it.... and that great "DUH, DUH DAH DUH, DAH DUh Duuuh" bass line was replaced by slick synthetic drumming..... it was so awful I almost failed my 10 rep of 140lbs....and almost sent my body sailing through the 8th story window with the stereo......but I ended up lifting in peace...a stronger but less naive man....

Walk Home: A Photo Essay: June 6, 2006: Moscow

The Beginning of the walk: A Tree, A Footpath, A Lamp, A Sign






The City Spreads Streets and Possible Endings






A grating to a patio or to an arch, the red restoran sign begins to explode into white light






Could be a crowd: the white light and the darkness around keeps it in confusion





Blues and reds






Lone figure pauses to contemplate the melting street scene, in textured pants






Collapsing






Across a Street, Lined With Parked Cars and Neon in The Distance






the sidewalk tries to carry you in its upward swells of light, careful with your feet






Sign wavers as cool blue electricity tries to swallow its elusive bulk






Stabs of Electricity, the way they swing






Ghost dvor tries to maintain its shape






Something leans from shadow, Hungry for the verticals

How to: Get to Petushki

A glimpse into skij yesh on's journalistic career, friends: from an upcoming article in Moscow's element magazine.



One: Remember the last time you were in Petushki. It was a life-changing experience, you came close to feeling the gentle caress of God. You realized once and for all that you were not alone on Earth. You met a girl, she can save you from the darkness in your head. You must return to Petushki.

Two: Get fired from your job for drinking and negligence. Now you have more time for drinking. And negligence. You just have to make it to Petushki.

Three: Take to the streets drinking and reminiscing about your Petushki princess. Drink and wander. Start mixing dzhintonik, cologne, DEET, and discarded kvas bottle dregs for a few moments of enlightenment. Because you’re never going to make it to Petushki.

Four: You’re a poet so you’ll howl at the night and your cursed luck. Will you be stuck in Moscow forever? Now mix two liters of vodka with a few drops of cockroach poison and three teaspoons of water from the Moskva. Quaff it in one go and then let everyone know about your girl in Petushki. Pretend to play an instrument in an underpass while holding out your hat to every passer-by for spare change. With this you can make it to Petushki.

Five: The drinking brings you so close to God and all his Angels that you can hear their silvery liquid music, it sooths the pains in your head. Drink more vodka. From the bottle. Stumble to a train station. You must be saved. You must make it to Petushki.

Six: Sell all worldly possessions. But one train ticket to Petushki. Blow the rest on vodka and industrial-strength cleaners for mixers. You have no need of money now, you’re going to Petushki.

Seven: With the support of the Angels, God in Heaven and the alcohol fumes busting pure white light through your chest, get on the train to Petushki. Take counsel with the Angels and kind babushki, repel the demons and evil babushki with constant vodka shots. Lace them with mosquito repellent. You might just make it to Petushki.

Eight: Through the hazy wash of intoxication, listen for the station announcements. Get off at Petushki. Bound out of the train. Prepare for consummation. But what’s this? You now this place. You’re at Kursky Vokzal. Now realize that Petushki exists, but only in your head.

impossible: 3:10 in the morning

....view from the window.... mosquitoes and bits of fluff calmly circulating in the air... wind blowing back my cornflower blue curtains.... and I keep wondering if this all can be maintained......

moscow has the speed and breadth to make your head hurt even when you haven't left the house

russians doing business sometimes reminds me of clowns dressing up as parisian families with cardboard paper backgrounds of bakeries and european parks on saturday morning tv. here is a somewhat unrelated "artistic" picture of an underpass at night. it's meant to symbolize, i guess.


you know, just the things on my mind