nightride

It was hot today. I mean it, it was over 32,5°C (all time record for 31 May was broken in Prague) and it was enough to incapacitate me for most of the afternoon. Lying in bed, snoozing, sweating and drinking litres of water was all I could do. I was looking up the skies, praying for a thunderstorm that would cool down the city. The rain finally came after 9 pm, reducing the heat.

Last week, after months and months of waiting that seemed to last forever, I finally got a key from my new little pad in Prague. Finally. I have moved in almost immediately — two suitcases packed with shirts, socks and U2 CD's meant to simulate a home.

When people find out that I spent years Down Under and I recently relocated to Czech Republic, they start to wonder why. Obviously, there's quite a few complicated answers to that — but the decision had been made and that is it. End of story.

An artist or a simple wannabe usually needs an inspiration to create. An inspiration to paint, compose, write, sculpture. And where does the inspiration come from? From experience happens to be the easiest answer. The stronger the experience, the more intense the passion an artist puts into his or her work. And what fits to a league of the most powerful life experiences? Birth, death, near-death episodes, love found, love lost, all kinds of moments of joy and moments of sorrow.

It's winter. W-I-N-T-E-R. It's a kind of season people in Sydney often talk about but hardly know or have ever seen, even if they pretend or genuinely believe they do and have. They don't and haven't, let me tell you. For most of them, winter is when it's from 15 to 20°C during the day, with temperatures dropping to about 10°C at night, meaning they have to get a jacket for long cold nights out. And they feel it's scary.

For the most of my life I thought I was being a right-wing cunt. If someone can walk, talk and work and they're not particularly insane, they have to take care of themselves. Nice and easy. Everybody's responsible for their own good. Little or no taxes and state has no bloody right to interfere with its citizens' lives.

Being the laziest bugger on the block and having to perform at the same time isn't the most satisfying sticker. It sort of wears off after a while and one looks for opportunities to actually do something more fulfilling than letting oneself be eaten alive by everyday routine while at the same time mindlessly hanging around.

Sometimes I wonder when it's going to happen, when shall I have time off for myself, not being distracted by people, civilization, by everyday tasks, work, noise, meaningless phone calls, or even my haunting memories and thoughts. Unplugged.

It's been a while since I moved from Kosice, now only coming back to visit occasionally. Though I probably will be for the rest of my life. There's family, old friends, places I remember, there's all the sentimental reasons one can imagine that make the visit worthwhile.

I like movies that can shift my view on reality; ones that can show me different angles of looking at life. Not necessarily mind blowing ones, or even ones regarded as good or classic, a fair one will do as long as it's true to itself and those which represents. Mind you, there is not that many of such movies around.

Some time ago, I was imagining myself living in an inner city apartment, working in the city and spending weekends in city parks, too lazy to make it to the beach. And here we go, just after turning thirty, my vision — not really a dream — became reality.

There were times when I used to hitchhike all around Slovakia (and beyond). Money was scarce, I was studying and whenever I had a moment I would sneak out and go somewhere, and funnily enough many times I used to return to same places, just to explore them over and again.

Being sick generally sucks. I guess everybody hates that feeling and of course, everybody learns to appreciate being healthy once they're sick, too. However, there are sicknesses that by taking you some sort of freedom are also giving you another one. Eg. you cannot eat what you want and you cannot drink what you want and you must relax and avoid stress.

Wild nineties, northern November before the climate change. Snow is flying in the air, streets are deserted. Up on the gallery of a local cinema club, three victims of cheap alcohol and desire to attract attention are celebrating their life, freedom and idiocy.

I get to fly between Prague and Sydney at least twice a year and I hate that journey every time. To sit over 24 hours on planes, change aircrafts, go through numerous checks and sometimes even having to explain myself while being questioned where am I going, what am I gonna do there, what am I carrying and why the heck am I travelling, it makes me sick.

Being a man, my life is practically two-dimensional. For years, I find a meaning of life as a point somewhere between total exploit of time and resources to enjoy oneself and, on the other hand, an ambition to leave something behind.

There is so much music everywhere these days. Everybody has a car radio, elevator music is shopping malls, MTV and VH1 are attacking us from every corner and we walk down the streets with white iPod earplugs stuck to our heads. More than enough, one might say, sometimes it's just great to enjoy the silence.

I remember I led a happy and quiet life about ten years ago. That was before the gadget revolution. The only device I owned at the time was a walkman. Not the original, I remember, it was an Aiwa (today's subsidiary of Sony), but you wouldn't call it anything else at the time, 'cos that was also a time of virtually no lawsuits about technology. It had a voice recorder and everything you could get at the time and I still have the precious recordings from the time of high school.

I have a love-have relationship with Sydney. Especially the summer one. During the day the temperatures rise to 40 degrees and that is a bit too much for a European fox. If you're lucky and you have an air-conditioned apartment, you're doing fine. Until you step outside. And than you get it full frontal.

People sometime ask me where do I feel at home. And I guess I'm always hesitating a bit before I answer. 'Cos there ain't an easy one. I just don't know. The same if they ask me where I'm from. So where am I from? Born in Nitra, lived in Kosice, Bratislava, Sydney, Prague, and now Sydney again. And I cannot guess where I'd be in half a year.

Apple was filling front pages of tech savvy websites and blogs during last few weeks. Firstly, it was the surprising iPod nano, followed by the 5G big one, iMacs, PowerBooks and PowerMacs. And iTunes, of course, to keep in touch with the newest toys.