Tag Archives: Tetiana Aleksina

BUT IS IT ART? // Medicate (Be Happy or Else)

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TATI: Tony, Tony… they say that female’s logic cannot be explained. But now can you explain to me your bloody male logic?

TONY: Okay, what have I done wrong this time?

TATI: Mascara Baby. Some pink-yellow mess with a vague hint of a vagina. NSFW. Chelonian Devil. A cute blood-stained tortoise with pretty questionable aggression. NSFW.

TONY: Aw, come on now! They’re nice, wholesome images, don’t you think?

TATI: Medicate (be Happy or Else). A frank picture of a woman’s genitals which do what they are supposed to do. And… antidepressants, art, depression, disappointment, failed expectations, hard choices, lemons, low self esteem, medicating, sexuality, shame… blah-blah-blah. Everything except your beloved ‘NSFW’. What happened? Did you think this bare ass IS really safe for work?

TONY: Well, I suppose it’s a little bit confronting…

TATI: Do ya?

TONY: Okay, it is, but I had a point to make. And I think I made it quite well!

TATI: Yes, Tony. You made a pretty bum point.

TONY: Wow. You should be a stand-up comedian. I’m laughing so goddam hard right now. Someone get me a roll of gaffer tape. I need to stop my sides from splitting.

TATI: Oh… that’s the most strange compliment that I’ve ever gotten. But I love it.

TONY:  It’s not a compliment.

TATI: I wonder if a girl is told she could be a stand-up comedian, can it be considered a compliment?

TONY: I was being sarcastic.

TATI: Okay. So, you pictured the birth process of the most perfect, happiest being? A lemon?

TONY: No, it’s my take on the whole “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!” thing. It’s an expression that I don’t think much of.

TATI: And now you sound like a christian anarchist, Tony.

TONY: Christian anarchist?

TATI: “All good men are Anarchists.” Do you agree, Tony? Can you call yourself an anarchist?

TONY: Hm. I think I’m much too conservative to be an anarchist. And what do you mean by christian? I’ve not been one of those for quite some time.

TATI: Tony, when you quote someone, you should be aware of whom you quoted at least. One beautiful day you may find yourself quoting Hitler or SpongeBob SquarePants. Quoting is a tricky thing, you know.

TONY: Oh! Is it L. Ron Hubbard? He was the one who wrote about life, lemons, and fizzy drinks, yes?

TATI: It’s Elbert Hubbard!

TONY: Well, one of them isn’t a scientologist. I know that much.

TATI: Let’s get back to bare asses.

TONY: I didn’t draw a bear’s arse.

TATI: Tony, you’re not only deaf. You’re blind. I wrote bare. Not bear.

TONY: Are you sure you didn’t mean bair?

TATI: No, and I didn’t mean briar either!

TONY: Ouch.

TATI: Yes. Especially for bare asses.

TONY: Okay. Fine. Seeing as you’re so fixated on arses, what do you want to know?

TATI: Well, why didn’t you draw a picture of a funnel?

TONY: A funnel? How would that have gotten my point across?

TATI: I think this fair lady dispenses her fine urine a bit carelessly. A funnel would be more effective.

TONY: Less messy, you mean?

TATI: Yes. Have you tried to piss into a glass, Tony?

TONY: No. Have you?

TATI: Only when I underwent medical tests. I had to prove that I wasn’t drunk or stoned.

TONY: Oh, so this was in doubt at some point in your life?

TATI: Tony, don’t try to one up me. We’re discussing your freaking art, not the details of my private life!

TONY: So, your objection to this piece of art is not the subject matter or its themes, but to the fact that her urine isn’t being collected using the most optimal means available?

TATI: Tony, please, can you sum up the ultimate goal of this picture? What did you want to declare with this?

TONY: I think it’s the depression sufferer’s way of saying, “You want me to put on a false smile and make lemonade? Here’s your goddam lemonade!” It’s a reflection on how exasperating society’s unhelpful just-get-over-it response to mental health issues can be.

TATI: Oh. Fuck me twice on a Sunday. I give up! Yes, Tony, it IS art. Amen.

TONY: Oh my. Does this mean I win our little word joust this time? I can’t believe it. Fuck me twice on Sunday too!

TATI: Shut up. I’m googling ‘exasperating’ now…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #3 (Fragment #026)

I was sitting on the box, sipping cold beer, when suddenly something rustled under me. I almost jumped out of my skin with surprise and spilled beer onto the counter. Damn!

Someone began to guffaw. I scowled and was going to give a rebuff, but this loud rustle repeated. I slipped off the box and cautiously peeped into a round hole on the side. There was something white inside, like a big rat or a rabbit. I looked through a hole on the other side. A pigeon! Aren’t they flyers? How on earth could someone cage a poor bird into such a stuffy, dark box? A big poker-picture on the side of the box said ‘Kuckuck Circus’. Of course. That was a given. A circus.

I stood straight up and looked about. The bar had suddenly lost its charm. It was as if someone had twitched the festal cloth off a table and bared its true, smeared and scratched ugly surface.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #2 (Fragment #025)

“Get out of the light, bimbo!”

Someone pushed me from behind with much giggling. Why on earth do these idiots call me ‘bimbo’ all the time? I definitely should change my style! It’s such a pity that I can’t make a public appearance with my real exterior. They would have bitten their tongues then, that’s for sure!

But they were right to some extent. Standing at the threshold wasn’t the best way to spend time in a bar. I went right to the counter and perched on a high, narrow box which served as a bar stool.

The bartender jumped out of nowhere. I opened my mouth to make an order, but he looked me up and down, tsked, and disappeared again. I stayed there with my mouth still open in surprise. What a strange way to serve customers!

I didn’t get a chance to express my indignation. The bartender popped up again. (Was he sitting under the counter?) He plopped a hug mug with dark beer in front of me. Hmm.

The bartender gave me a wink.

“Schubfachprinzip! Do you know how it works?”

I was at a loss. Such an unexpected question! I’ve never supposed that combinatorics and beer could be married. I thought to myself for a moment then said with uncertainty, “Well… if ten pigeons are placed into nine boxes…”

The bartender burst out laughing. I felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe I’d made a muddle. I’m a humanist after all, not a digithead.

“Schubfachprinzip. It’s easy. Drink one box of beer and get another box for free.”

He giggled and disappeared again, leaving me to wonder about such strange mathematics.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #1 (Fragment #024)

I felt like a boiled rag. That’s why I’d decided to weasel out of all this bookish bullshit and have a stroll around instead. Aimless walks have always helped me to take my mind off things, to get my head together. And, besides this, I will often find myself in interesting places or near interesting people. If I do possess any talents, this would definitely be one of them.

I was going down a drowsy narrow backstreet, pensive, kicking my toe against a small round stone. Klat! The stone ricocheted off of a worn porch and fell between the bars of a sewer grate. Yuck! I raised my eyes.

‘Schubfachprinzip Bar’.

I snickered. You don’t believe in coincidences, do you? Well, there you’d be wrong, bro.

If you want to arrive at a decent result, you must work with authentic texts.

With this thought and a remnant of a wry smile on my face, I pulled open a heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The interior was really cool! Well… not cool, actually. Perhaps that wasn’t the correct word. Rather, the interior felt right, true. It felt real. If I were to have designed a bar, I would have done it in exactly this way.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Open-Source Poetry #2

Dear Readers,

We’re so pleased that we took a risk and began our own little Open-Source Poetry experiment. What if we offered a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together? How would something like that play out? Well, so far it seems you’re having just as much fun as we are!

We received a staggering amount of contributions. Wow, or what! We hadn’t expected this, so we want to give our warmest thank yous for your excellent creative efforts. You have been funny, cute, thought provoking and sad. As a result, we’ve had an enormously difficult time picking the second line for this poem. You all are quite simply brilliant!

So, after some polite debate between us—although there were no fisticuffs, Tati did use a fire rake on Tony as her closing argument—we’ve chosen the line that we feel was the most unexpected and ridiculous. Without further ado, let’s thank Phoenix Risen for his contribution, and invite all of you to the next round!

And for those of you that would like a reminder of how this wonderful little experiment works…

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Hey guys, let’s keep the ball rolling!

Вензель

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time? 
Or should I just give you a baby porcupine? 
Alas, it will be one and the same outcome
Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & PHOENIX RISEN
© All rights reserved 2017