Don't forget to visit Wallis

 If you stop by any chance at National Portrait Gallery you don't want to miss Wallis. [[ The first time I went to National Portrait Gallery I saw only a random crowd of faces. Tousands of pairs of eyes looking straight at me. Some of them, I must admit, made me feel a little bit uncomfortable. Their eyes without hidden words, having absolutely nothing to tell me but how much do I interrupt their private post scriptum, when they cannot defendbut only agree in silence with an unknown mind's judgement. I used to have mixed feeling about such an exposure of their private lives to public, lives which used to be neither more nor less true than ours. Now I think otherwise. I actually found a magic about it. In this grand and majestic tabernacle of stories captured in a wink, this imaginarium of muted footsteps. The library of forgotten stories.

 I have my personal favourites I like to visit there. Sir Beckford caught on a canvas to work forever on his unfortunate gothic novel not read anymore even by English literature students. Princess Charlotte Mecklenbourg, her gentle smile and wide open eyes, hungry for a conversation after years spent in linguistic isolation. Everytime I see her I promise that I will learn her language and then come on my day off so we can talk for hours. The women of other times, young female artists from good families daring to art or brave women leaving their mad husbands despite the curse of scandal. Nell Gwyn, a compelling story of a woman saving herself from poverty by becoming a lover of potential protectors to finally make her own history as a last word of the king. And then, there is Wallis. It's signifcant that her portrait is slightly hidden from the main view, so you would rather notice it while leaving than coming into the room. To make sure you spot her, you need to slowly turn to the right hand side while moving towards the exit and take three steps away from the main track. Wallis doesn't insist on anybody's company.

 Once you see her you cannot remain indifferent. There is something which makes her memorable amongst all of the portraits around. She's authentic.

What's in Your Bag? Monkey Seduction on a mission.

Recently I got crazy about hashtags. Never was a social media animal, but this is an amazing, truly connecting people idea. Okay, the real reason is that finally, around a week ago, I worked out what hashtags actually are. To confess the true, it took me loads of manic days-nights to figure out who invented it and, for God's sake, what for.

 So, after 100happydays I found that one. What's in Your Bag appealed to me straight away. Since I was a child I loved to take a look inside through people's windows. I was imagining who they are, how do their lives look like. In a big city like ours, bags are exactly this: largely open windows with a tiny light inside, wanting your immediate attention.

 There is another saying but I always found it pretty cheesy and it basically says that the woman's bag is a room of treasure. Well, my surely is but not more than A.'s backpack (not mentioning his already eternal shopping bag), the bag of my friend Anees (which value he understood after accidentally leaving it in a restaurant and realizing he had no spare keys). That is why I do not believe that what women carry is at any point more extraordinary than what you can find in a male tote. My mom never liked bags and she was always carrying things she actually NEEDED on that single day. Joining this action I didn't mean to shock anybody. What's inside my bag can maybe disgust somebody but surely not surprise. 

A DIARY

 Recently I never leave my diary at home. Previously I actually hated it. I am the most terrible planner in the world and I actually enjoy experiences much more when they're not planned. Now, I have to admit it, without it I'm lost. It also serves as my handy book of thoughts, since I realized that keeping a diary can be a good training for an aspiring writer. From the other hand, I try to write down everything which could be important. After years, yes after all these years, it will be nice to read and live once again these crazy times- the time of my life. 

The Worst Marketer in the World. Confessions of a Decent Consumer.

 Mr Frank, I got annoyed. 

 -Mmm..- answered Frank rushing out from the bathroom, still with a toothbrush in his mouth. 

 No, not because of that- explained I, despite the fact that Frank still hasn't suggested anything as far.- It's because of soething which happened in January. Anyway, let me tell you the story. 

I was sitting on a tube holding my treasure like I was expecting in any minute someone to come for it. Someone to unmask me, betray me and leave me with a theatrical stiletto inside my heart. I holt my purse tightly, trying to hide any presence of my little precious things wrapped in a Boot's bag. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that it didn't happen. I hadn't just bought Aussie. The adverts on a tube were not for me and I was totally immuned to all this marvellous, high quality pictures and encouraging quotes surrounding me in public spaces. But no matter how I tried it was a fact: both shampoo and conditioner from Aussie line Volume were just there, in my hands. Trying to erase the feeling of guilt from inside my chest I got home and decided to try the treasure. All of the marketing love hate issues have gone: it was one of the best conditioner I ever had. 

-Mmm- Frank made a significant movement with his head towards me- what's the conclusion?

He was still holding a handtowell with both hands in a tight embrace.

-Oh Frank, sometimes you stop being an imaginary counsellor and you start to be just a man!

Then I had to explain him the actual story. The most current story ever, nothing else but First Kiss. First Kiss was a video which in the past several days went viral on the Internet. As one of the first people who shared it amongst my friends, I had some information from beforehand. I knew it was sponsored by some clothing brand, anyway no one, neither the director neither Soko, an artist who played the role of one of the strangers and whose song was used in a background, ever tried to hide it. Probably unlike hundreds of haters across the Internet they simply didn't see anything bad about it. Neither did I.

http://vimeo.com/88671403

 And maybe that is why soon I found myself left alone in the arms of Monkey Seduction and wondering: what's the difference between me and the rest of the world?

Draw!

 Unlike my recent activity, this post won't be much about writing. Anyway I was always envious about all these people whose job has been completed before actually composing an article. Without rewriting, editing or correcting today I would like to present some of my ready works, created more or less between 2008-2010 and sent to me today by my beloved parents. 

 Some are good, some are not that much but I found such a collection interesting, especially being at the beginning of a great come back to my forgotten passion. 

 It's all handrawing, no tablet yet included. 

 Today it will be all about people since I always loved to draw them. There is something surprisingly amazing about how reality can be created just by an image of a person, their appearance, the way they act, the expression on their faces or clothes they are wearing. I do it sometimes as an exercise- I choose one person on a tube and I watch them for a while. Then I try to feel their reality, how does the world look for them like, how do they feel about their surroundings, what makes them happy. Then I follow all of these sensations it gave me and I see to which reality it would transform me. The results are awesome and sometimes, I believe that, can even change your life. I guess that is the way I always try to look at people. And that is how I draw them.  

Lost in Soho- Chasing An Old Dream

By the occasion of such an amazing weather and the sun emerging from the shadow of forget today afternoon I decided to spend time recalling my old hobby: getting lost. Most probably right now there will be a choir of raised voices: why Soho? Who would ever like to get lost there, in a random crowd of tourists! This always amazes me what a little role Soho plays in an everyday Londoners' lives. We practically pass it unnoticed and if we ever refer to it then it's as a fake or at least unnatural place, something created for tourism and a bad taken idea of a global leisure. And we are, my dear friends, so wrong. There is not many such living places like Soho. 

 I remember Soho in my grandfather's stories, full of night clubs and obscure underground life. But my private history with this place started three years ago. It was a time when me and my friend, let's call him Andre, were mostly roaming around through busy streets of London. We liked especially Soho- because you see, there unlike everywhere else, a way once passed changes forever. It transforms behing your back, before you turn to take a final look only to realize that you'd already lost. You will never find the same road again. You will never go back. 

What you create Outside or Inside- when Monkey Seduction continues

I would like to file to create a Musicovideocot. No, don't search in google if you don't know what it is. It is something which should exist, but as far didn't pay off to anybody to make it real. Today I write to commence an agitation in favour of creating it and give it to people forever. I realized that I desperately need it. And when I explain you why, you may feel that too. 

 This whole story developed on one day when something completely unexpected stroke me down from my feet. Illness. That was it's name, nasty and horrible like an especially ugly troll hidden in a garden and giggling out of laughter. It walked into my life on one sunny morning after two nice days of Monkey Seduction and after getting a cup of tea all of a sudden refused to leave. I had no other option but serrender and soon the ground under my feet has split apart, making me falling deep and deep into a place we unlikely visit: Inside.

INSIDE

 When I say 'unlikely visit' I precisely mean that we rather don't do this with awareness. Passed by randomly day by day, Inside is for us just what we can see in the first place: our own home or maybe that part of it where we feel the most comfortable. Could be bed. But could be also our favourite couch (patchwork...), our desk or shelves with books helping us tripping away. Inside is a place where we are this part of ourselves we become when no one else is watching. Which is why we need a Musicovideocot: we need a tool which is not going to watch us.
 The biggest danger for Inside is an eye of the Outside. It's usually included in the little spies from there- your devices. Your laptop- with a constant Internet access, your mobile phone (get rid of it! it attacks you in the most cunning way!) and everything which can tempt you to take a look at the Outside. Even a lovely old home phone, doesn't it look like a monster?

MUSICOVIDEOCOT

 Musicovideocot- is a half advanced technology which lets you fully enjoy the Inside. It has no Internet connection- no temptation to check your work emails or take a look at a social hub. It plays only the music which helps you relax or reminds you about something pleasant, and displays positively stimulating videos insiring you to a creative work in your assylum. Absolutely perfect, innovative technology of our century. 

Caught by Monkey Seduction

Even it might be hard to believe it, it has been a while since Monkey Seduction had last sat on my chest. I discovered this fact with a sadness increased by an awareness that it's all because I am simply too absorb. Feeling dedicated to a paper work, sinking in small busy tasks which are not going to matter in any longer running. In this reality of a sheer sided trap, Monkey Seduction has visited me all of a sudden in a middle of a busy day when there was already much more on my head than I could ever take. 

 For those who had already forgotten what Monkey Seduction was all about I add that it evoluted from my constant feeling from the time when I was younger, though in a much less sophisticated manner: the feeling to quit everything and go to the Goddamnit. 

 Now I am much older and know it well there is no place to go away from here. Because wherever you move, it will always be here for you. Maybe that is why Monkey Seduction has lived inside my life as a  long forgotten legend, always irrelevant and not applicable. It was until today, when it entered my kitchen to remind me about my old favourite hobby: dreaming.
 When I created Monkey Seduction two years ago it was clear what it was all about- a moment when the time stops to matter. So here I am, with my coffee and a pencil, to share this wonderful experience.
 There is four of us over here: me, Frank, Susan and my bloody computer without whom nothing would be able to place even a shadow of happening. I am dedicating this day to dream and therefore it is an important day of my life. Maybe even the most important.

One of the main characteristics of Monkey Seduction state of mind is a string of thought. Usually without any association with your current life concerns. For example today I was thinking about patchwork.