Nemesis

i live in the world where shooting stars are mistaken for airplanes.

[nemesisforgives]

Winter in NYC

With the temperature on the peripheries equating the thermometer value in Dzalinda, Siberia and the droughty windows and close-but-feels-like-open doors it can get pretty nasty. I embrace my donkeys - click- and the Manhattan wind while sneaking to my favorite winter NYC places.

1. Max Brenner Union Square

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I love to sit there an contemplate the meaning of chocolate. It seems like the more people are enjoying there daily carbohydrates  the more cosy it feels. Take a sweet sip of my world's best Italian Thick White hot Chocolate (or verrry Dark with Chili) in adorable, hand-warming hugmugs or take your brown-and-happy partner to get dirty-and-happy with their amazing chocolate fondue's. 

Max Brenner

841 Broadway, New York, NY 10003, United States

Subway: 4,5,6,N,Q,R,L Station: Union Square 14th Street

2. STRAND 

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Take a break, get your Max Brenner's chocolate settled, go pee (no jokes guys, its hard to encounter public toilet in Manhattan!) and stroll through bookshelves that house anything you can possibly imagine. I usually get lost there for a couple of hours, searching through the architecture+ design, graphic novels or children's sections. Full of tight and cosy corners Strand can be very inspiring. Check out their rare editions section on the last (the least crowded) floor and enjoy the smell of century old paper. 

Strand Bookstore

828 Broadway, New York, NY 10003

Subway: 4,5,6,N,Q,R,L Station: Union Square 14th Street

3. Rolf's German Restaurant

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Even though the holiday season and the only excuse to bear winter is long over, I still cannot get out of my mind the magic of Christmas decorations at Rolf's. Even standing in front of the window was a blast of warmth. Spare some extra dollars for a glass of wine in this fairyland. 

Rolf's German Restaurant

281 3rd Ave, New York, NY 10010

Subway: 6 Station: 23rd Street

4. New York City Ballet

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If we're on to some serious christmasing in NYC, Lincoln Center with its money-machine The Nutcracker. I fell in love with Balanchine's racist and colonialist magic and long after dreamt of the Sugar Fairy and the Spanish Gingerbreads. And yes, I couldn't stop jumping from excitement, rhythmically whispering "wooooww" on every tendu.  

New York City Ballet

David Koch Theatre

20 Lincoln Center Plaza, New York, NY 10023

Subway: 1 Station: 66th Street Lincoln Center

5. Home/Made 

The fact that the whole restaurant and its loving owners were booked for our group definitely made a difference. I visited many cosy little restaurants in Manhattan and beyond but none had the atmosphere and the quality food of this little Red Hook germ. Go and melt yourself to the aroma of truly homemade winter place to be! (after dark +100 to cosiness) 

It can be tricky to get there but seeing the Manhattan skyline and small-town atmosphere of the main street will gratify you for your effort. You can always go to IKEA and get some Important Things if the journey to Red Hook calls for more motivation.

Home/Made

293 Van Brunt St, Brooklyn, NY 11231

Subway: F,G Station: Caroll St then walk or take the B61 bus to Van Brunt St/Pioneer St 

[nemesisforgives]

talks

A: (on the way home,taking a deep breath)

 "We need to prepare for revolution" 

[nemesisforgives]

The Fish Child(2009)

“The Fish Child”(2009, original El niño pez) is a story of class, race, sexuality and love. The second film of Lucia Puenzo is an adaptation of her novel of the same title. 

Even though the two works of art describe the same events, each does it in radically different way. The novel is written from the perspective of the beloved dog of the main character - Serafin. His point of view and limited perception of the world brings an element of joy and comedy to the very dense and difficult situations the girls have to face. The movie, on the other hand, maintains very serious and dark  character seasoned with lots of tension and a constant feeling of danger.  Lucia Puenzo created a film that balances on the border of melodrama, thriller and fantasy.

The plot of “The Fish Child” is presented non-linearly. The director confuses the viewer and gently erases the border between today and three years ago by joining many distant-in-time scenes. Due to the heavy use of flashbacks certain elements of the plot and characters’ intentions remain unclear.

One of the main characters, Lala (Inés Efron), comes from a very influent Buenos Aires-based white family. When we meet her for the first time she is a typical child: naive, loyal, curious about the world. As she falls in love with an indigenous maid, who has been growing up with her, she becomes mature and escapes the norms of her high class family. Throughout the movie she becomes the character that changes the most. Dynamic and tragic sequence of events such as discovering her father’s cruelty and later killing him, being rejected by her love, finding out her partner’s past and finally running away influence her the most. She evolves from being a feminine child living in the comfort of her family’s mansion into short-haired strong character that dictates her own morals.

Ailin (Mariela Vitale)on the other hard appears to be a static, experienced individual. We gradually discover her terrific past, sequence of abuse and her deepest secret related to the title of the movie. She appears to lost her hope in gaining respect over her body. After many years of sexual exploitation she seems to be scared to say ‘no’ and, as we get to know, has been engaged in many promiscuous relationships over the course of her life. Although she starts off being an adult, at the end of the movie her character remains static and Lala receives the role of the mature, responsible partner.

I enjoyed the extraordinary way of portraying the love of Lala and Ailin. Lucia Puenzo did everything to layer meaning on a difficult and to this day discriminated type of relationships. The only fault that became uncomfortable for me is that even though the racial and unequal class status of Ailin was described in details (and criticized), the life of Lala’s family was presented as better without sufficient critique. Puenzo raises questions towards pathological relations of Lala’s family but doesn’t discuss the faults of the bourgeois class. It seems as the director begins her critique in the portrayal of corrupted institutions that in their definition are supposed to protect the rich from the poor (police which organizes a private brothel and the judge-rapist) but doesn’t evaluate her political views completely.

If you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it. Probably for one of the coming snow days (thank you Netflix)

[nemesisforgives]

snow days

In the filthy day-camping walls of our (you say its because of the chair you carried on your head straight from the dustbin)

 I get into weird states in which the very same chair talks to me in languages I have long since forgotten. My eyes seem bigger and the necklace tighter. Neighbors keep watching my naked seem-to-be-lost body, you or I reject to fulfill (or indulge in endless compilations in front of a dark movie screen).

And then you call me in the middle of the chair-I-mirror talks. Doors are knocking to each other and I struggle to put the curtain down, overwhelmed by the objects and textiles pulling me down to heavy dreams. 

[nemesisforgives]

Lionboy by Complicite

Lionboy adapted and performed by Complicite is based on a novel by Zizou Corder (a 7 year old at the time Isabel Young and her mother Loiusa Young). The play performed in the stunning New Victory Theatre made my heart warm, despite the chilly new-york-sunday.

  I left the theatre curious, satisfied and feeling the magic of my past children plays, long since overwhelmed by seriousness associated with being a grown-up.  

My number-one of the performance (apart from the tremendous space through which we toured before the show) was the usage of the props. Due to the devised and physical nature of the play, the objects that narrated the story were used in a highly creative manner. The same ladder that a second ago was pretending to be a mountain range, now became a boat or a cage. The unique and dynamic handling of the stage items resembled memories from my childhood (before computers could generate it) in which the same room, bed, chairs and soft-toys took new roles almost every hour. Even though Complicite created simple and strong images using analogue props, their stage environment was enriched by elements of technology such as life projections on the surface of the drums and a kinetic set. Lionboy addresses children of the modern age ,for whom computers are as natural as dolls, and the children born and grown before the idea of a computer was even spoken aloud: parents,grandparents and friends. 

What engaged me in this play was not only astonishing environment of the performance but the people who created it: the actors. Dynamic, honest and adorable Sergei (Eric Mallett), demonized teenager with a convincing back-story Rafi(Angel Lopez-Silva), the chameleon (Victoria Gould) . What lacked to me in Lionboy is its fundamental character, Charlie(Martins Imhangbe). Everything from his arbitrary costume to his ordinary movement on stage seemed out of place. The Lionboy was surrounded by great personalities and himself failed to express his true, childish and naive perspective on life, honest courage and empathy. To me it seemed like Charlie was a grown-up trying to pretend to be a kid instead of a boy aiming to take adult responsibilities and save his parents. 

Even though, as I later was informed, the companies produce children shows as a primary money mill to their budget, the Lionboy was overall a successful production. It portrayed hard, political issues with lightness and creativity of a child. Sadly the show I attended was the last one in New York. However, if you ever get a chance to participate in Complicite's creative journey, I highly recommend their performance. 

[nemesisforgives]

talks

and creeped out people on the street with singing and being cute

i think im going mad

im so alone

but they open the gym tomorrow

and i have weed and porn and food

and kaju

and emails from my physics profesor

but its miserable life

but i can't refuse, very relaxing

[nemesisforgives]

joints and fingers on fire.

so i seat hear swallowing his words, resembling the magic of the underage and floating in relationships full of shivering, excitement and fictional surrealism. holding a breaking joint i try to save my hand from further self-damage of the day. 

im so clumsy i can't be left alone in the house. or maybe i'm an average clumsy person it's just that i cook and do stuff unproportionally more than other people. anyway today i burned my hand so much when i grabbed the pan that i forgot was hot that i had to put cold water on it every 10 min otherwise it was on fire. after avoiding using it and carrying trash bags with weirdly twisted hand it stopped hurting. then i cut my finger almost through while opening a can with a hammer. it was bleeding so much i thought i should call 911. i'm joking. it wasn't that bad, i just thought of what would happen if it was bleeding so much i had to call emergency. now it stopped bleeding and im scared to touch anything. 

[nemesisforgives]

Rayuela.

like the girl with matchsticks singing polish christmas carols i look at people's chandeliers and decorated facades, with the smell of pine tree in my nosal cavities,

 i wonder how the dinner will feel like at my home where all the inappropriate and big-sized members of my family will gather, this years at my mother's table, talk and stuff their mouths with food (in the starving days of mine, i remember how disgusted i was looking at these chewing machines, unable to mimic their rhythmic prayer of joy)

. like that i go on tour the bronx to squeeze through people's greedy/happy feet and find myself disappointed that the Union Square market is just as about crowded capitalism as anything else in this city. I find myself long for the magic days in Dresden, looking at the Gluswein advertised proudly as german speciality, only to discover they pour it from a plastic container, walmartcvsstopandshop or 

algo asi.

 I continue then to visit my uncle in his little comfort zone, annoyed waitresses and modes of complaints. even profound 

wigilia 

is his voluntary day of work. "Why would i prepare a tree and food if I have everything like that at my workplace? Feels like home." except it's not. but I understand where your solitary years of hopelessness are coming from. and coming home to my resigned belief-less love, to warm his food and listen about his carelessness regarding my tradition of warmth and Jesus. kiss him goodnight to accept another day where our livelihoods are crisscrossing each other. 

[nemesisforgives]

[nemesisforgives]

Mat 6:34

I tend to find peacefulness in multi-hours adorations when I doubtfully stroll to Pastora, her hands, her words repeated in semi whisper, confusion on the tears and all this christian intensity. Frijoles y arroz. 

[nemesisforgives]

chicken island.

So it is. A shopping mall. What are my socialstudiesendlessphotostalksandfrozennoses for when government officials will put there a shopping mall for the filthy illussioned, fair-skinned commuters (too vaguely resembling the government officials) and enslaved the neighbors in terrifying centers of color, shitty music, feet stumbling upon each other and labels pulling your psyche. to serve millions of hands and cars or cars and hands, pass them their tickets, faceless hamburgers, receipts. so they come back tomorrow. 

separated can never be equal. but government officials don't want it to be.