some more photos

Yeah, that’s me again.

on the roof of our dormitory. what can i say?

it was raining. Daiana the Daiana wanted to go outside. i wanted to die, as usual (wanting to die IS a joke, i decided to put it here because the pictures are all kind of cool and all that, which is pretty unusual for the pictures of me, as i always happen to look more like on the last picture (the one with books, if anything). in fact, life is fantabulous here, don’t worry, mum). Continue reading

another almost-a-month-report (that one’s much bigger)


yes, i’m postponing the post again. yes, i did promise you to post the post without any postmodernal and posterial postponing, but with all postindustrial and posturing posthaste. and, yes, here i am, postnataly, poswary postponing posting the post.

however, now i am here and i am now and you can’t escape and you can’t hide.

i apologise one more time for not reporting every second of my being here, in this fantabulously cozy fatherland of such great persons and personalities with unbearable names, as Jaroslav Hašek, Krtek and Hurvínek. i tried to recollect as much as possible, revised some drafts made on the go, and this is the best i came up with. to make understanding my existence easier for you, i divided the three-weeks period into several parts: setting off, my adventures in Prague, settling in and daily hustles and bustles.

and, by the way, i did manage to fail the last Friday test. got 16.5 points out of 31 possible. stipid fat cowish dumphead.

So, come with us now on a journey through time and space… Continue reading

an official not-writing apology

good morning/afternoon/day/evening/night to all of you.

Yes, I do want to apologise for being such a lazy bum and not writing about my life, how I arrived, how I settled in, what I’m doing now etc.

I was a bit lost, actually. Partially, at least. Alone, in a new town, in a new country, in a new room, with a new persons to live with. You know (I hope so), undiscovered experience and everything.

Besides, I wasn’t quite sure anyone cares at all. You know, there’ve been regular phone conversations with parents/nans/siblings etc a la
“- Hi Nica, it’s (somebody). So, you doing okay then, yeah?
– Yeah, quite well. Missing you all guys a little,  but don’t worry about me,  I’m fine.
– Well, we miss you too. Buy.
– Cheers.”
But they’re not really an expression of a great interest, is it?

So, I suppose it’s not odd that I haven’t been informing you about my life (and I’m not going to inform you now, by the way, because now it’s quite late and I’ve been awake all day and I’ve got a big test to prepare to and I’m tired and I’m not sure I’ll survive through the test).

However, now I more or less got used to the new environment and people even started showing attention (the “people” word in this sentence means the absolutely lovely Linda Sarah, who is not only my lauder, but an awesomely fantabulous writing illustrator as well). It was a great honour and support. Thank you once again.

So, tomorrow, right after passing/failing the test, I will calm down and come back home, and I will try and recollect all the events, thoughts, and people I’ve dealt with in the last two weeks, and I will describe each one of them remembered just as precise as I willl be able to.

But for now it’s a good bye and a see you later.

Yours sincerely till the last toffee sweet,
Nica, a somebody trying to lead a life of a human being


Just another thought of mine (this one’s about the Chapman thing)

The surname “Chapman” is a weird surname. On the one hand, there is Mark Chapman, a psychopathic killer of a legend. On the other, there’s Graham Chapman, the embodiment of everything Monty Python, the greatest of all comic groups ever, was ever to be.

Still not sure whether to admire this surname or to hate with all my heart.

#not belonging to russia anymore

Hey dudes

Here I am, standing in the Prague airport and trying to think. Failing in such a difficult task.

My parents are so proud of me. Or, at least, pretend they are. I did most of the work completely alone, positioning myself as a mature and sophisticated creature, which, of course I am not. Of course I’m just a child. Have always been. Will always be. I may look like an adult, but that’s just a disguise. As if I looked as a mouse going squeak squeak squeak in a high-pitched mousy voice. Remember that.

Take care,


Rory Storm and The Hurricanes by Klaus Voormann



Have I told you that I’m crazy about the early beatles?
If not, then brace yourselves, as I’m coming.

Being frank, I adore all this Hamburg thing most of all. And I love exies and the whole Astrid-and-Stuart stuff. And all these young lads with an rock’n’roll Elvistic hair and pigs flying out of windows just make me wanna scream and shout.

I hope my life in CR will be at least half as productive and interesting as the fab4’s life in Germany at the very dawn of their fabulousness.