Tag Archive for 'future' Page 2 of 2



Life as supernatural ability

Life is full of mysteries. I’m saying that because today I woke up, opened my eyes and started to wonder if there’s a particular reason for me being in this place now. It is a mystery for me really how did I end up in Bangkok and how is it I’m teaching at university. You could say it happenned because of the choices I made. Yes and not. It is not that I am a fatalist and believe it’s all was predestined. It’s just what sometimes I think the selection of choices we have is rather odd. Before I will explain what I mean, I’d like to share my belief. I think all human beings, realize or not, have some abnormal abilities or supernatural powers. Here are 2 examples of people with such abilities I have met in my life. You can say this pick is random. I guess it is not, as both cases made me wonder and reflect on for a long time. They left a trace. Random doesn’t exist anyway. It is something what is temporary out of our mindframe.

Once I worked as a barman in a pub for a couple of months. Probably I could stay there a few weeks more, if I wouldn’t pick up a fight on a nearly daily basis (himuliating others, in a way, is a habitual English entertainment. Having a Russian barman in their local pub, est. circa 1780 definetely was challenging tolerance of many of its patrons: it shook the picture of their world in a way). Most of the customers were regulars. It was a traditional English local pub. It means what you see the same people every day and hear the same jokes from them daily. You get used to them very quickly. “Regular” is somebody who doesn’t tell you what they want. They will tell you: “my drink, please”, as they come in and drink the same thing every bloody day. I knew most of the regulars not by names, but by their drinks. One of them was an old chap whose drink was bitter. He will be in every evening after work, will take 2 pints of Tetley’s and sit somewhere in a corner hardly saying a word to anybody, like a piece of furniture. He was there Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Saturday and Sunday were not exception apart he would come early afternoon and will have his 2 pints two times. Once I was asked by another regular, “Bacardi and a splash of Cola, no ice please”, for something like a program for horse racing. I did not have a clue there it was kept. So that chap from the corner told me to look under a pile of boxes with pool chalks and old phone books on a top shelf. I extracted what was required from under a layer of dust the size of level of snow in the middle of winter somewhere in Siberia. I was surprised and asked him how he knew. He answered: - I am coming to this pub every day for over 40 years. I was so shocked what couldn’t find anything better than ask: - Why? - Because I changed it. I lived before in Surrey, - explained he.

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Other posts by boris kislitsin

Welcome to Tijuana…( a manifesto)

A Border Is…

BORDER CULTURE IS A polysemantic term.
Stepping outside of one´s culture is equivalent
to walking outside of the law.
Border culture means boycott, complot, ilegalidad,
clandestinidad, contrabando, transgresión,
desobediencia binacional; en otras palabras,
to smuggle dangeros poetry and utopian visions
from one culture to another, desde allá, hasta acá.
But it also means to maintain one´s dignity outside the law.
But it also means hybrid art forms for new contents
in gestation: spray mural, techno-altar, poetryintongues,
audiograffity, punkarachi, videocorrido, antibolero, antitodo:
art world: en otras palabras y tierras, an art against the
monolingües, police´s monoculture, tapados, nacionalistas,
esteticistas en extinción…
But it also means to be fluid in English, Spanish, Spanglish and Ingleñol. Cause Spanglish is the language of border diplomacy.
But it also means transcultural friendship and
collaboration among races, sexes, and generations.
But it also means to practice creative appropriation,
Expropriation and subversion of dominant cultural forms.
But it also means a new cartography; a brand new map
To host the new project; the democratisation of the East;
the socialisation of the West; the ThirdWorldisation of the North and the FirstWorldisation of the South.
But it also means a multiplicity of voices away from the center, different geo-cultural relations among more culturally akin regions: Your home and mine, digamos, a new internationalism postcentris.
But it also means regresar y volver a partir: to return and
depart once again. Cause border culture is an experience
and to arrive is just an illusion.
But it also means a new terminology for new
Hybrid identities, constantly metamorphosing:
Sudaca, hispanic, mestizaje, social thinker, not bohemian-accionista, performer, intercultural and postpostmodern.
But it also means to develop new models to
interpret the world-in-crisis, the only world we know.
But it also means to push the borders of countries
and languages or, better said, to find new languages
to express the fluctuating borders.
But it also means experimenting with the fringes between art
and society, legalidad and ilegality, English and Español,
male and female, North and South, self and other
and subverting these relationships.
But it also means to speak from the subconsciente,
desde acá, desde el medio. The border is the juction not the edge and monoculturalism has been expelled from the margins.
But it also means grassroots, raíces, not government´s
censorship, for censorship as racism is the opposite of border culture.
But it also means to analyse critically all that lies on
the current table of devates; multiculturalism, the latino, ethic-ethnic art, even border art.
But it also means to question and transgress border culture.
What today is powerful and necessary, tomorrow is arcane and ridiculous; what today is border culture, tomorrow is institutional art, never vice versa.
But it also means to escape the current co-optation
of border culture.
But it also means to look at the past and the future at the same time. 1492 was the beginning of a genocidal era.
Soon, a new internationalism will have to gravitate around
our spinal cord.
Not just Europe, not just the North, not just white,
not only you, compañero compañerita del otro lado
de la frontera, el lenguaje y el océano.

Silvia

Other posts by silvia

Memory Garden

My relationship to memories is rather ambivalent.  I don’t really have anything personal against them, although they allow themselves to penetrate my thoughts without invitation and having the irritating habit to be memories of the unpleasant sort for the most part. But for mischievous as they might be, I still accept them as a part of me and see myself at the same time as a product of them. It can’t be all that bad after all.

Like my friend Boris says: I wonder where 99% of my memories got dumped. The Black Holes of Memory Kingdom? And I wonder why the most vivid ones of the remaining 1% are memories that I would rather put in the beloved ‘recycling bin’.

Of course there are good ones too, but inevitably they seem utterly powerless and without any impact if compared to the actual moment of happiness. Just a gray shadow of what once was a glorious and kaleidoscopic moment in our lives.

A wise man once said (I don’t remember his name) that 99% of humanity is either trapped in the past, reviewing and reviewing past experiences, or entangled in hopes and worries about the future. Only 1% (if we are lucky) lives in the present, the NOW. sad but true…

So, at this point I must say that I am not really a ‘past’ person. I’m rather a ‘future’ kind of guy…often worried about what might happen and afraid to take important decisions. I rarely evoke past memories because I can’t really get any pleasure in recalling them.

but still…I have my share of memories…and the one I would like to share here is not only the most vivid and the most extraordinary of them all, but it happens to be also a happy memory, a memory of a moment that changed my life forever.

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Other posts by Mezcal

Lucky numbers

A friend of mine told me about a dream he had.

In his dream he saw a cloud. Suddenly it started to change it’s shape until it transformed into a number. Then another one. And yet another one. He woke up and quickly wrote down the numbers he saw. He had no doubt those were the lucky numbers, so he called his girlfriend and asked her to buy lottery tickets with these numbers. She did so, but they won nothing. Probably the numbers meant something else, decided my friend.The following week he didn’t buy any tickets. Apparently he could win a jackpot in national lottery, as the numbers from his dream were the winning ones. However weird it sounds, things like this happen sometimes.

 Especially in the country I live now, Thailand. Everybody here seems obsessed with charms, signs, lucky numbers and special amulets bringing fortune. You can see people praying for luck in the temples, bank notes with lucky numbers for sale, as bringing luck, and lottery tickets wendors everythere, usually on the bicycles with an open suitcase attached to the bike containing tickets.  

I wonder if the mass obsession or belief can affect chances.

A while ago I’ve read in a newspaper about such a case. There was a taxi with a number plate 7777… On the 7th of July this year (07/07/07) in the evening it picked up a heavily pregnant woman. Her labours had started, and she asked the driver to quickly take her to hospital. She delivered a baby on the way. Bangkok is notorious for its traffic jams :). So when they were finished, the driver looked at his watch. It was 7 in the evening. So he thought, 7 is a lucky number this week. He bought as many tickets containing as many 7’s in them as he could find. He told about the case his friends. Within 2 days everybody in the city was hunting for such tickets. Speculation started, and any ticket with 7 was resold up to 10 times it’s price, so much they were sought after. The craze shoot through the roof. “Bangkok Post” published an article about it, and that’s how I found out the details and had a laugh about the story.

Anyway, the following week the winning lottery number contained five 7’s, and everybody who had at least three 7’s in their tickets won.

Whatever the story about the taxi driver was truth or a myth, it turned out a very fascinating story. I’d love to read here more stories about such, as they call it in Russia сон в руку, dreams, bringing luck or giving hints about the future.

Boris Kislitsin

Other posts by boris kislitsin