Phonecalls from Shnur's Satellite Telephone

Russia is such a strange place for the first week or so of January. People are universally unreachable, don't pick up their phones and are generally out of contact. It is undefined when they will return to work, when they will even be able to remember what day it is. I have been getting to bed late, around 4am and rising around 2 or 3pm. That leaves one hour of light. Not so hot for someone who is sitting at home all day by themselves.

I don't really know how to be happy for Denis when he calls from Switzerland. He always asks how I am and is very kind and notes that yes, I have a cold and offers help and asks about my day. But when its always the same thing, and he notes the tone in my voice, the "fuck you tone". He tells me about how they snowboarded all day and now they're up in the mountains and about to play a concert at this beautiful venue there where John Lennon once went to hang out with his wife (he just read that in the biography of Lennon I bought him for New Year's). I cannot be excited or happy for him though. "You're in a really bad mood, what's that all about?" It's always the same questions and my lack of answers. "I'm fine, just sick of sitting at home by myself." So I am a bitch. I hang up the phone and I'm generally frustrated because I thought I'd gotten over this being mad thing, but I cannot seem to have a conversation with him where I don't hang up the phone and he is upset with me for being so mean and I'm upset with myself for being like this. I don't know. I guess I've realized about a year ago that the situation doesn't work for me as a person, that I need to be away from this life where one of us is off doing things and seeing things and the other is always stuck and always depressed.

But the point is I'm not depressed I guess it's just that when he calls and I'm sitting in this dark room as I always am, tapping away on this computer, I wonder sometimes, what could I possibly say "Hope your concert goes well! How was the mountain? Did you snowboard well? Sounds rad!" I just cant be that person. I guess its mostly about me sending him a signal that this is not OK. Or that I'm not happy with the situation or whatever. If you can imagine - it's been going on for one and half years, so it's not going to change.

But it doesn't matter, I always hang up the phone feeling bad. "Do you miss me?" he asks and I don't know how to answer that question either.

I write back an SMS: "I'm okay you know and I don't try to be mean and you aren't doing anything wrong by calling... I just can't bring myself to be happy for you when it's always the same situation. You are always very kind and considerate and I always come across as a bitch and I feel bad afterwards. But I don't know what to say sometimes. It feels so unfair sometimes to hear about how great it is where you are. I hope you understand."

I had wanted to write a 2nd: "Of course I miss you. You are always away from me. Now I want to get away." But I caved in and just wrote "Whatever, I'm over it, I'm making good art and of course I miss you."

After all this I get a response a couple minutes later: "OK Malipus (the equivalent of babydoll i suppose) sleep tide :)" Yes, with the stupid smiley face attached and the incorrect spelling of 'tight'. It's nine oclock. If he were listening to me when I was talking to him on the phone he would have known that lately I'm going to bed somewhere around 4am. So this message kind of just struck me as - "ok, my little stupid girlfriend, go to sleep now, I'm going to go snort another line of coke and drink another shot and go on stage and play my rock and roll now. Nighty night." I donno about you but its moments like this when I know this isn't the person for me. Conversation, serious conversation, is something that me and Denis don't have. I know it's just an SMS message, but this is Fleur here - you know, I am an emotional sensitive person that needs to be able to talk things through with people and in our case, it's just not there at all.

PHew. Got that out. Now I can move onto something else. [Happy face here.]

Letter to Denis

I made a little artistic breakthrough today and I'm feeling much better. Artistic breakthroughs are really all I need in life. And the occasional friend. It's funny though, how these things come about. You can't just sit down and decide you're going to write an awesome song - it usually comes out of some pain/drama in your life. Like your song "Last night" - i feel like that sort of just came to you when you started thinking about all of the rough shit you've had to deal with in your life. Anywho, that's how my emotions are - very much dependent on what im making with my photography. So i apologize for saying or writing things you don't wanna hear. I know that it doesn't really matter where I am in the world - its more about being able to apply myself to my work - to be productive and creative. And its definitely a process - It can take a week, a year, or 10 years to get to the place where you are consistently making good art, but its always something you cant really control - it comes by accident by life experiences and all that.

It's 4am and I'm still awake. Head is on fire. It's like this. You have shitloads of time - a whole two weeks with no work and not a clue of what to do with yourself - hating yourself for not going out and shooting amazing pictures the way you used to. the way you shot when you first came to russia, and everything was fresh and seen from an alien's point of view. I passed a flaming dumpster on my way out the house but i didn't stop to shoot it. Then I start to get down on myself - so much time! You wait and pray that some kind of creative push will come to you. Then it finally comes. Finally, it comes, and now all you need is time, and most of all, to keep the spark going. Sometimes it means staying up all night cause in the morning it will be gone. Sometimes its about having nothing else to do - total isolation, no work, no appointments. If I could be more efficient at seizing this creative thing when it happens, oh man, oh man, i'd be unstoppable - the way i used to attack my scrapbooks as a kid, and make the most raddest collages. If i could bring that creative force back, the spur of the moment all-nighters where my hands are flying and they can do no wrong. I remember discovering it with the National Geographic magazines. Cutting and pasting and everything that i put down, every haphazard scene was electric and so very right.

I'll have to scan it I suppose and get it on flickr. The world, at the moment, is run by flickr, didn't you know?

Fleur

fuck sadness