Reading is Sexy

I walk with a red rose tucked in my hair, on high heels and classy little dress. I sometimes carry a gun with me and turn to "wrong" streets. I anticipate the next moments. Mysteries pursued, satisfaction achieved, pleasure infinite. They talk to me, those voices and characters. My lips crook around the edges, I sigh and shrug, jump over the puddles, raise my head and look in the face of the rain. I love the feeling of rain drops on my skin, almost as if someone is kissing me on my cheek and eyelids and forehead and lips. Angry at times, proud and prejudiced. Sometimes, I'm cold and calculating. Sometimes, I'm agonised. Those deep conversations, I love them, with deeply right people. Witty and charming gentlemen flicker through my mind. I inhale love and passion. "Kill the joykillers and restart your curiosity". Laugh out loud, without alcohol in your blood. It is so rare! Transformation is tremendous. Oh, and travel! Everywhere, to everyone or someone special. I become someone else. Words remind me of actions that I want to take. So very Orwellish of me. What is beyond the event horizon? Take a pencil and underline: beyond are the infinite opportunities, frameless pictures of happiness, beyond are the wings...

To my beauties - Sevinj and Lamiya, with love! 

Happy birthday KKO!

http://www.kkoworld.com/

Marbelous Heart

A heart and flesh from marble, yet pounding and alive. This is the first association that hits the mind when thinking of "The agony and the ecstasy" of Irving Stone. It is amazing how a writer can transform mere facts about a sculptor of Renaissance into a beautifully woven piece of writing. At some point you forget what boils a fascination in your blood more, the life of Michelangelo or the story of Irving Stone. Then you realise, it is rather the PASSION that pulls you in. The passion, the love and the ecstasy of both Michelangelo and Irving. The passion that is contagious...

My fingers are brushing through a keyboard waiting for signals or emotions to flow so that I could write this review. This weird yet exciting feeling I have now, this bittersweet flavour from the book. I picture Michelangelo circling around the Duccio Block, thinking passionately about his Giant, drafting the contours of his signature. I picture Irving sauntering in the direction of Palazzo Signoria after hours of exploring David the Giant pondering how well he could pass this Michelangelic passion to his readers. Finally, it is myself that has to reflect and come up with proper and beautiful words to anyone who would stumble upon this marbelous post.

When you take "The agony and the ecstasy" in your hands, it looks like a piece of fine white marble. Reading this book is like carving the marble yourself, bit by bit, page by page. Only when you reach the end, an astonishing feeling sweeps all over you that it wasn't the stone you were holding, it was a sculpture, it was a fresco, it is the full and complete image of one man, one genius. So take this marble and carve it till the end. Learn from Michelangelo. Learn from Irving.

The lessons:

- The stone is not as cold as I thought, some humans are colder...
- You carve your own life bearing in mind that life is as tough as the rocks of Carrara.
- Agonies outweigh ecstasy, immortality is not a solution.
- Religions are corrupted, faith is subjective.
- Families are precious, take care of them.
- We all need friends like Granacci. Friends that lift us up, friends that inspire and motivate, friends that criticise, care, love, laugh with us and get us drunk.
- We all have our own Pope Julius II as a demon and he will stalk us if we don't learn to say no.
- Sadly, love can be late. Too late, sometimes.
- Beauty is immortal, action is attractive, jealousy is fatal.
- Be rebellious, be different, chances being hated are high, but respect is guaranteed.
- You are not the master of your destiny, people will interfere, plans will go wrong, destinations will change.
- Money is a security, save it.

Struggle

This pain in the chest, it is the combination of love and despise. A civil war inside of me. Ego vs heart. My heart wants to overthrow the autocrat in me as if it is competent enough to share the power with the reason. If the ego wins, execution of the heart will be a necessary evil, in which case, I will say adieu to unwanted and unwelcome tears...

Awakenings

My soul is floating on the surface,
Sleeping, seeing dreams.
But I've got your hands in mine,
Feeling safe, knowing
We won't be losing each other...

Başsız atlılar və Gilyotin

Gərək ki, çox hörmətli dövlət orqanları qış vaxtına keçməyərdilər. Nə qədər ki, istilik verilməyib, deməli qış da gəlməyib. Qatıq yaşıldır, yoldaşlar. Heç kim heç kimə borclu deyil, Ağqoyunluda hamı qazla təmin olunub. Gedin, şəkərbura yeyin!!! Bu qışdan da çıxarıq. Adımıza ləkə gətirməyin, dözümlülük milli-mənəvi dəyərlərimiz qədər qanımıza işləyib. Pəncərədən zibil tullayanlar, yolda xartıltı ilə tüpürənlər, vedrədəki xərçənglər, əlbəttə ki, təkamüldən qalib çıxarlar. Mariya Antuanetta demişkən, gedin Xəzərdə çimin!!!

Arrival

It will come,
What you are waiting for.
Look around, it may have even arrived.
If not, purge the despair to Siberia,
It will come, come, come!
Believe and expect.
Arrest your doubts.
Repress the fears.
Lasso your dreams,
Pull them closer,
Sing for it,
It will come, come, come!
What you are waiting for.

The perks of loving classic music (observations from the italo-azerino concert)

September is the time of pomegranates, apples, persimmons and classical music. Every september Baku hosts International Classical Music Festival dedicated to the founder of the Azeri classic music Uzeyir Hajibeyli - my favourite. There are usually about ten different thematic concerts in musical halls scattered across the capital. But somehow we end up buying tickets for the State Philarmonic Hall right in the heart of Baku placed beautifully near the Governor's Garden - my favourite. So we did this year.

Philarmonic classical concerts are not so popular among the majority, therefore, usually the ticket sale is very low - the prices range from 5 manats to 20. But hardly any people buy tickets. Thus, at the start of a concert our hospitable Philarmonic Hall opens the doors for all and for free. In this concert however, there were enough Azeri, Italian and expat guests who purchased the tickets and so the crowd of free music lovers had to wait for the others to take their seats.

The concert was intended to begin at 19:00. Intentions do not always match with punctuality in Azerbaijan and Italy, and with Italians and Azeris coming together I had no doubt it would start at least 30 minutes later. My doubts didn't fail me. As soon as we had our tickets solemnly ripped into halves we were allowed to enter into the main concert hall.

By the time we were in the concert hall, my seat was already occupied by a man, next to him a woman - probably his wife. I approached the man and asked him to move one seat to the right showing my ticket and found out that he was English speaking. He smiled and moved one chair to the right and we all sat. Well, the perks of not watching or reading news to save yourself some nerves are that you end up not recognising the ambassador of the US in your country. That's what my sister told me - "we are sitting next to the US ambassador". "Well, let me ask him for a green card" I replied. Well, of course, I was joking. I thought, it'd be nice to chat with Mr.Ambassador since he was so kind to give my seat back to me. The whole thing I described here took not even a minute when the controllers and staff approached us in an indignant manner requesting our tickets. When we finally showed our tickets, the staff tried to prove us wrong about the seating numbers. So we asked a direct question: "Is this whole thing about us asking the ambassador to move?!". Taken off guard, they claimed it was not the case. They left, only to come after five minutes to offer Mr.Ambassador and his wife some empty seats in the amphitheatre. He was surprised and said he did not mind sitting here, but his wife said it was ok. So they moved. Apparently, our azerino philarmonic staff do not realise that ambassadors are also humans and it is ok for them to be wrong. It is also ok for a citizen to sit next to a state official or a diplomat. It is ok to be right. Cheers to you, our darlingest ignorant staff of the beautiful State Philarmonic Hall!

I can not say whether it was a disappointment to lose our amiable American friend, because the seats were quickly occupied by an Italian couple in their fifties may be. After all, this was italo-azeri concert. The lovely Italian couple were also very chatty and at some point I thought I was back to La Spezia-Rome train where I had an honour of hearing Italian speech for three hours in a row. I even managed to understand the chat by the time the train made half way into the Southern Italy. Jumping back from the train into the concert hall, I realised the couple was also very cuddly. They touched, kissed and laughed together. Very cute.

At 19:30 the doors were opened for the ticketless audience. People flocked into the hall and started taking seats just like they would do in a subway in the morning rush hour when late to work. Quite chaotic and time-consuming... I was back from my thoughts to the hall with the curious question of "how could you dress up and put on so much effort to look classy with the aim of being stuck at the doors because there were no places left..."

The concert started with the Italian ambassador giving a speech on the friendship of two nations and cultural proximity of the two. I thought may be "one nation, two states" could not only be applicable to Azeri-Turkish society but Azeri-Italian as well. Oh, we are so very similar...

Finally, the concert had started and I stopped looking at the ceiling.

The pause for fifteen minutes was a vanity fair. Now that the seats were guaranteed people flocked outside to have fresh air in the outside gardens. We stayed in the hall, although our dear Mrs.Bennet was keen on us going out and "showing ourselves". Cute! When the pause was over, the Italian couple never came back, I guess they were distracted as "love was in the air". In general, many did not come back. End of vanity fair.

The concert finished with Funiculi, Funicula - the famous Neapolitan song which says:

Come on, come on! To the top we'll go!

Come on, come on! To the top we'll go!

Funiculi, funicula, funiculi, funicula!

To the top we'll go, funiculi, funicula!