Friday, February 6, 2009

SCRIBBLINGS: The bond of ethnic slurs

Tourists II by Duane Hanson (1988)

There is a Russian guy who lives in the apartment next door to me. Shocking, I know... follow me for a minute. He is about my age, late 20s, but we have never spoken before. It is generally not accepted to speak to strangers (while sober) in Ukraine. Surly head nods were the extent of our relationship. But over the last week we have been forced to get know each other through a shared problem with our electricity. Several times I have had to go to his place and he to mine as we waited for technicians. During these awkward meetings we soon discovered that in addition to our technical maladies we also share a love of classic horror films... a friendship was born. 

But we are not at full warmth and fuzziness yet... we took our man-love to a new level this morning when I dropped of a copy of The Brood for him to borrow. He answered the door with a ginger, "Good morning stupid American," to which I quickly responded, "same to you, dirty Russki." We chuckled, shook hands and I went on my way knowing that we have an honest relationship and I can trust him... as far as I can trust anyone here.

Late Floridian artist Duane Hanson left an amazing body of work behind. Check out his hyper-real, body cast sculptures if you haven't yet: Saatchi retrospective

2 comments:

Bluesfrau said...

That's beautiful. Your story with your Russian neighbour has the kind of romance to it that gives stories a golden finish. Romance not to be misunderstood as to do with Love between the male and female. Instead to do with the rediscovery of truth.

fucoid said...

thanks Bluesfrau, as strange as it may seem, there is something about sharing dirty jokes about oneself that is romantic