*
Awakening underneath the warm cozy blanket next to Aysena.
“So...did you dream about real man?” I ask.
Ays: “M-m.” [meaning no]
She smiles and it’s a new day with new feelings. She had a
dream about her grandfather trying to have sex with her. She associates the
grandfather character with me cause, “you are old man,” she says. Despite the
simplistic explanations she gives she really does understand the deeper meaning
and observations. Our morning talks include the topic of loving everyone, like
Jesus, and how she relates it to me. She says I try to love too many people. I
give everyone 0.2% of my love and because of this I can’t love her (or any one
special person) enough. “It’s not enough,” she says.
Making Tea for each other.
There’s playful banter...
Ays: “You are my real man. I dream of you all da time.”
Me: “That’s not true.”
...
Me: “Stop squeezing my nipples!”
Ays: “It’s not nipples. It’s booooobs!”
This song plays on her iPad: “I love you baby and if it’s
quite alright...”
...
We have sex.
...
Ays: “I realized yesterday why I was upset. It’s because we
didn’t have sex. Everything is right now. Look how happy I am.
Locating a decently priced restaurant for brunch.
Egg, Cheese, and Tomato Omelet with Salad, Grapefruit Juice,
and Tea.
*
All things are uplifting and free between her and I now.
Kissing and playing games in the metro while all the Muscovite bystanders
watch. It really is like a rollercoaster. I have to be a little more careful
with what I say because my point of view sometimes gets lost in translation. It
forces there to be an extra effort on both our parts when expressing ourselves.
At the train station near metro Belaruskaya in the café
waiting for Tristan to arrive from the airport.
Snacking on a Jelly-Filled Donut.
...
He’s here. We link up in the courtyard. There he is with a
Yellowcard t-shirt. As is usually the case Tristan is without a jacket even
though the extreme cold weather would call for it.
Me: “Well, here we are Tristan. This is real! Welcome to
Russia!”
*
Ays: “In Russia womens are more important.”
My first show on this vacation/tour is tonight. We have a
hard time finding the venue but with Mike’s (the promoter) help we make it. He
escorts us around the back of the main building, a place you’d have to know
about in advance if you want to attend. Club Hegel is a well-kept clean
basement bar, dark lit, with stonewalls. All our Russian friends are here. I
perform two sets that go fairly well and there seems to be a positive response.
†
Eating some fancy Salmon Potato Salad and Green Tea for
dinner.
*
I’m told by Mike that it’s uncommon for the bar managers to
allow the performing musician to have complimentary drinks or food, which would
be customary in most restaurants and bars in America, but not here, not in
Russia. Unfortunately, I’m left with no payment at the end of the show even
though I was told there was at least a $150 guarantee by Mike. But apparently
the bar didn’t make enough sales. It’s not Mike’s fault though. He feels bad
about it and reassures me he can pay me out of his pocket in a few days. It’s
okay. I wasn’t expecting too much as this was a last minute gig for the most
part.
Afterwards, we all trek over to a hip dance bar called
Gogol. It’s quite the club. Saturated with an ever-cascading supply of Russian
20/30-somethings. The coat check is a mess. There’s a snippy Russian man
wearing sunglasses controlling it. Chugging a few beers in the congregating
area. Meeting a few nearby strangers, a Finnish man on holiday and a young
drunk Russian boy who doesn’t hold back from talking to you even if you don’t
understand him. Eventually, we hit the dance floor and so begins the blissful
hazy night. Camaraderie with the fellow dancers on the floor. Downing my first
Vodka with a stranger named Kate who offered it to me. I’m lost in a drunken
maze. Well, I wouldn’t say lost. I’d say connected. Dancing one on one with
Aysena. I keep my gaze on her rhythmic body movement and her adorable face.
This moment is enchanting. It’s like a dream. The time flies by. It’s almost 5
a.m. and the bar’s doors are still open. But Ays and I depart from the mayhem.
*
*
†
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
We catch a taxi ride back to the apartment. Before we pass
out we cannot ignore the young fiery sexual tension between each other. We
tumble into many different positions in bed and provide ecstasy for each other.
It was the most passionate yet.
* Images taken
by me.
† Images taken by Aysena.
† Images taken by Aysena.
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