Saturday, February 21, 2009

(----) In Russia Vol.14: On Location in St. Petersburg

You know you're in Russia when these cats are staring at you from the enormous, table-sized placemat at your host's place in St. Petersburg. They are not amused by, contrary to any arguments with which one Mr. Matt Kalb! might attempt to disarm their distaste for such frivolity.

BUT WAIT! There's another one lurking beneath the fruit bowl (I can has banana?). Actually, it's just a larger image of one of the two from above, but the devil's in the details; someone needs to trim those motherfuckin' nails.

Riffin' on a theme here. A poster advertising the famous Petersburg werecat?

Urinal fail.

In the same bar as the failed urinal, this man (on left, with mullet) was dancing up a fucking storm in some elastic-waistbanded exercise pants. His bravado and daring on the floor had no limits, no boundaries, no rhythm. No lady was safe from his trademark move, which involved lacing his fingers together and raising his arms over his head. One fortunate lady had her very expensive drink knocked out of her hands by this move, prompting her to flip him the bird and call him a bitch before she left him to dance by himself again. He seemed neither to notice nor to care, only continued twirling his way into others' personal space.

Outside the same bar there was a centaur on the balcony of a shopping center.

This is a very bad word in Russian, written in the snow on a car hood.

The Neva River, frozen.

The entrance to a hostel inside a very dark, dingy, dilapidated building. Graffiti reads: "WELLCOME. Come in, don't be afraid. When you leave, don't cry."

Beer bottles in the hostel stairwell.

Graffiti in hostel stairwell.

More graffiti, which reads, "I am a pink elephant."


Graffiti fail.

This is the door across the hall from the hostel door. At one point, while we were waiting to get in, this door opened and an old woman walked out. I caught a glimpse of the apartment within and the shirtless elderly man who was standing in the center of the living room. He immediately brought to mind David Lynch and that wrinkly old guy from the "Enter Sandman" video.

A street, briefly illuminated by the appearance of a strange orange ball in the sky that occasionally provides light.

One of the bands I played with at a club called "White Rhino."

1. More dogs.
2. Russia's answer to Crowmeat Bob.
3. Russia's answer to the Infectious Blues Band (slight return).
4. Dudes in tanks.

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