Brilliance..

Ну, чтож.. This has been some time in the making. Thus you should enjoy the post like a fine wine. Left open for a few days, and initially fumbled off the bottom shelf because the label was enticing (note: this is actually a legitimate wine selection method, because.. I do it.) and all after already consuming some vodka, bez zakusok. Appreciate it.

Set, davai..

So.

I moved.

Should be mentioned that all of it took place in Russian as well. Hardcore awesomeprekrasno.

Setting the entire amalgam of various widely-sourced reasons behind.. I moved. It's done, and that's where it stays. Overall though, I felt a wider need for movement.. be it across the Atlantic or across the city (basically another country). Given that I still have no idea on any possible progress on my elamisluba (Estonian residency permit: soon to be pegged to the kidney exchange rate on the black market), I decided to roll with what I could here. I may not fully enjoy what I am doing (kohvik job working with young'ns is not surprisingly not fufilling), though I enjoy where I am doing it now.

Speedy background (timewarpwarpwarpwarpwarp.. 'will there be dinosauurs?') on Lasnamäe.

It's basically Russia. Every day I take a twenty minute bus ride to the Schengenized version of Stalingrad, where every step crackles with delight (due to the broken vodka bottles) and life is jubilantly enacted and displayed on every corner (the local Roma children, flocks of denim jackets, and general staggering). Корочье, fucking brilliant. My apartment itself is clean and just remodeled. The bathroom is somewhat of an exception, though after a few added touches the abandoned-hospital aura quickly gave way to a comfortable-Soviet-hospital (just garnished with a copy of my chest x-rays I found in the move. Eesti demanded it before I could start working (--not that I work, officially--) so they could check if I had TB or not. Apparently being cleared for not having TB is still not enough for the residency permit, though.). I digress multiple times.

The area used to just be empty fields that were undeveloped for.. well.. over half a millenia. Then the CCCP happened. Around the late 70's and early 80's the Soviets went on this mad overenergized trip and built loads of panel housing, before massive protests in the mid-80's forced development to stop. As for myself, I live on the eighth floor of one of the early ones.. judging by the rate of decomposition of the exterior of the building. The Soviet Union really focused on efficiency. For example; my faucet in the bathroom doubles over between the sink and the tub, and the (actually somewhat amazing) use of hot water pipes sticking out of the wall and zagging (with a few zigs) around provides a towel rack.. dries and heats. My television only speaks Russian. Having one of the two exterior doors open provides light into the small hallway outside my door, so you can lock or unlock said doors with a selection of my five apartment keys (alright; four.. one is for the post). Also, the exterior of Soviet buildings serves as a visible short-term method of carbon dating. Efficiency.

I mean it though.. it is beautiful. Things are falling apart here and there, and the population lives amongst various ruins and relics often splashed with the sprayed art of youth.. though everyone is together in it. On warm days, people are sitting out, with babushki, kids and young parents alike making the way to the Russian stall-markets (basically second hand shops with more character and far more slippers). The horizon stretches out, and up, unfurled and dotted with thousands of lights, each representing people, and lives. It's the best place to feel part of something larger.. a mass of others.., and the best place to feel alone at the same time. I feel and am savouring a strong taste of settlement. Not to mention drinking on the street generally flies here.

Ian, felt I should mention and make you proud of the fact that I decided to rig up my balcony into a map room. Somewhat tempted to move the stove and my bed onto the balcony, though.

My windows face a different direction, with a calm collected view of the flurrying fury of life moving and intermoving afront, aside and below.. Rippling and surging. Кажется, что мне пора же купаться.

Edasi, вперёд..