nunufar

Unbreakable

The Unbreakable broke his tooth and turned around. We looked at him, all pretty and fair, with one front tooth missing now. He looked around him saying incomprehensible things in English with a displeasing Russian accent.

Commotion began, the centre of which was the frantic Unbreakable with his front tooth missing.

Time got stuck in a loop, with us looking at the Unbreakable and then at the floor in search for his tooth, and then at him again, and then at the same empty spot on the floor.

- The Unbreakable broke his tooth. The Unbreakable broke his tooth. The Unbreakable broke his tooth.

The white room, in which we remained for ever, made us sick, and we hardly knew it, because we could not think of anything but the repeated “Unbreakable broke his tooth” thought.

Hell. The marriage of hell and hell and hell.

So we read eyes. The eyes of my neighbor were certainly asking me, “Excuse me. Exactly what dimension are we in?” And I was certainly answering, “In the dimension of the unfortunate Unbreakable and ourselves.” The eyes of my neighbor’s neighbor were telling my neighbor, “Yes, yes. Thank you very much for standing right next to me. I am afraid of losing my personality.”

At the 1023rd loop of the Unbreakable my neighbor thought he had about enough of time-loop experience and departed.

I saw him some time later and asked what he did after he left. He said he loved the experience so much he set his country into a loop. I asked whether he did not feel sorry for the inhabitants. He said they used to live in a loop anyway, only this one was more organized and shorter. Besides, he said, anyone could step out of the loop at any time, but only a very few did that.

I asked him how, after all, he got out of the loop of the Unbreakable. He said, by finding his broken tooth, which was unfindable, because we looked at the same empty spot every time.

Breaking down the impossible got us into a loop, and the very same action let us out of it.

+1

rest of the story here...

Sksela… and Rock in Yerevan 

Young movement “Sksela…” gathered again last Sunday. The meeting was mostly dedicated to rejections from the town hall to organize a rock concert in front of the Komitas monument. The organizers offered the people to join in an act of protest.
I left the gathering sooner than it finished to join preparations to a rock concert in front of the Liberty Square. The concert was to begin at 5 pm but began around 7 pm, so most of my story turned out into the backstage nervous Russian rockers and the preparation and fooling around of Armenian rockers and all kinds of other people.

rest of the story here...

Right I am using this blog only for advertising purposes, such a user..... anyways, I'd like to show you and invite you to the Armenian Patchwork  Transitions Online blog, a photo-blog about Armenia... welcome and comment if you like.

Do take a look at www.anush.am time after time ! 

:))

She had empty eyes and white skin. Her being let out a scent of cinnamon.

She had a friend. He was dark, and had a grotesque walk.

She would spend days listening to his speculations about N. and God.

      -     He’s very good for a self-hating person that I am. He justifies everything I hate about myself. He denies. And certainly he denies God. Do you think I like my walk? But I have it. I consider Nietzsche the same ugly shit that my walk is. I consider you God, and I deny you.

-         Kann ich die Kleider ausziehen?

-         German doesn’t suit you. Speak the language I taught you, silence.

Her friend made her wear a red wig. Curly red hair. 

maybe too much for a day but anyway wanted to put an ill gif of my Coffee story

                             

Today i saw Coffee for the second time... i had my camera and tried to photograph her... she was far...

ok my inexistent audience.... after my good old alter ego tesnel decided to close her outside and inside world i decided to take over.... 

after that i have taken a shower three times, shaved my legs once, turned my laptop on and off four times, gave about 40 kisses to my brother, thought about cleaning up my room four times, and.... nothing else special....or rather, unspecial....

no it is the shower... i know it's all about my showers..... it's about.... pro zverei.... pro tebya...vsyo chto kasaetsa.... i vsyo ostalnoe....

well about my showers.... they are the source of my most brilliant ideas.... it's right there at the moment when i reach for the razor... the beautiful idea comes.... it may be something small, or something outrageously strange... but they come.... 

and then i put on my robe, go to my room, and feel guilty... because Lena doesnt like it when i dont clean up... although she never speaks about it... and i never clean up.... brother told me to at least throw away the bottle with wine we drank last month....

finally after torturing myself and others with thoughts and conversations about this portrait, I did it....i am not sure whether it works or not, but at least i did what i wanted, and now can move on....

this is a  very interesting person, Marin Gavazov. People see him walking around in aubg looking completely out of this world, and especially (and fortunately enough) out of aubg. He walks like one would walk in the army, and talks to himself (maybe about Socialism or the wonderous Wittgenstein). One he wrote a story for a class, this i have told to some friends: Hitler comes to AUBG to make a Fine Arts minor, the euphoric aubg-ers surround him, asking questions, "so why did you after all come to AUBG, to Blagoevgrad"? he answers, "Probably, to become the future leader of this region."   

"If you think I'm nuts, no, in the army they say I am not, which presumably means I am."