#sdc2014

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How to Not Be in a Shell With Un-Orderly Speech, by Maris Goldmanis

                            ______

                            ______

One: how to not be how to not be shy. Of course the first one is to [ ______ ] inside yourself.

RSJ: Wait, you changed it to how to not be shy.

Okay, okay. Oh yes. Because I am. Well here’s the thing. I am not really [ ______ ] speech. Because I say things [ ______ ] .

RSJ: You are not what in speech?

I am not [ ______ ]  in speech.

RSJ: You are not totally in speech?

No my speech is not [ ______ ] !

RSJ: Totally?

Not orderly. Orderly.

RSJ: Not orderly!

Because I speak with a [ ______ ]  a little bit un-orderly. It is always mixed up. Because the thing is, the point is the same, but the order is different. That’s the thing. But of course I will try.

RSJ: So maybe: how to not be in a shell with un-orderly speech.

How not to be in a shell with. How not to be. How not to be in a shell. With. With. Un-orderly speech.

The first thing is: understand why this is happening. [ ______ ]  to be yourself, to understand yourself. The other thing, I would say, is to really not give a damn. Because if you are worried about this too much, it won’t change. It will [ ______ ] be more and more. It is a [ ______ ] this thing.

To manage this thing. To understand that this is part of you. So people will laugh. People won’t understand. But go anyway. Because it is, because sitting at home [ ______ ] speaking with yourself very clearly. But for you to understand yourself, to [ ______ ] you go anyway. Because without doing anything, you will be lost. For me it is an action. Passivity is the most killing thing for people, for a man. The passivity, the [ ______ ] kills people. Slowly, but kills people.

The number three: number three is a very tricky thing for me, for most people. To not be angry when people do not understand you. That’s very important. To understand that [ ______ ] may not understand you. It is quite a thing for people to not understand you. You must accept it. You must accept this thing. Because sometimes, sometimes I speak very clearly. Very clearly like a god. But sometimes you speak like a son of a gun.

This you must understand. First thing, most important thing is to live with it. Maybe find some very [ ______ ] to [ ______ ] . It is very important. Yes.

You first noticed this thing because of your microphone right now at my mouth. I am now worried about what I say. But you know if this microphone was away, I would speak more clearly. More freely.

This other thing. The voice. Like a freedom to speak. It is really important. It is really complicated.

On board the Stena Flavia

Got up just in time for breakfast. Two TV sets are blaring in the lounge, and outside, the water is clear. Blue-green-grayish sea. Many of the truck drivers here speak Russian: impressive statures, deep voices. I start a conversation with one of them. He drives back and forth between Tallinn and Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. “Always swimming with the boat”, he says.

After breakfast I go for a walk. There’s a shop onboard the Stena Flavia, right across from the reception. It’s open three times a day for half an hour. They sell spirits, plush dolls, perfumes, sweets, and model cars. The weather on deck is fantastic. Above us, clear blue skies, on the horizon looking southeast there’s a band of clouds, and in between, the glimmering surface of the water. Whether Luki’s on board? D. mentioned something shortly before my trip. It could be the guy from yesterday with the dirty blond hair wearing a flat cap.

He moved along the deck leisurely, took a picture of Travemünde at disembarkment, sat around and read, until he disappeared and hasn’t shown up for dinner or breakfast since. He’s probably covered. In the radio van there’s presumably everything one could possibly need and he probably snuck some of that into his cabin. There’s not a single bird in sight. In the meanwhile, we’ve reached a point south of Gotland and are moving up north of the Hoburgs Bank – area to be avoided. Southwest behind us, we’ve passed the Chemical Munitions Dumping Ground (anchoring and fishing dangerous) and are now nearing the Deep Water Route, which we’ll cross at about 19,5° E / 57° N to start heading towards Ventspils.

Looking south through my binoculars. No land in sight, no ships, only the metallic glitter of the water. Suddenly, a solitary seagull flying in the distance – way too far off to say what kind exactly. It's going east, no sound. To the north, two ships travel parallel to us: a blue Finnlines ferry with containers on deck, and the Finnmill Helsinki. There’s no human figure distinguishable on board. Only the radar above the bridge, constantly turning. We’re moving a little faster than the Finnmill and now slowly pass it. Further up north is the AIDA. A in blue, I in red, D in yellow and the final A in green. Almost like the Google logo. Many kilometers behind it, a slim tongue of land – the shore of Gotland.

Change the watch: it will be one hour later in Latvia.

Photographing the evacuation plans, charts and pictograms on board. Using ultrashort wave, there’s reception of a Swedish broadcast on the Helideck. It seems to be about politics. The name Obama is mentioned. You can’t see Poland to the south. To the north, the Finnmill Helsinki is far-off now and heading towards its homeport.

After lunch I take a coffee and sit in one of the back rows of red cinema chairs. They’re playing the movie “Secretariat”, with John Malkovich as horse racing trainer. Two rows ahead, two deaf persons are communicating across the aisle. One of them doesn’t seem to like the film, he gets up and leaves. It’s a Russian dubbed version. The dubbing is simply spoken over the original sound, making the Russian and English into a weird amalgam of half sentences starting in one language and gliding over to the other. Horse races and family scenes. In one race John Malkovich has a falling out with his jockey.

It’s 3:30 pm, Latvian time. Recording the motor noise of the Stena Flavia with contact microphones. I have to get off the Helideck and over the upper park deck, to the chimney. It drones powerfully. The motor has a whopping 21,600 KW. When I return to the Helideck, I find Luki there. He’s lying shirtless on his back with his cap and giant headphones, and sun bathes. Some freshing up on Morse code and some stretching exercises. When Luki awakes, I say ‘Hi’. Indeed, it’s him. He’s reading Mike Goldsmith’s “Discord – The Story of Noise” and has put on a Massive Attack T-shirt. Hardly five minutes later, a sparrow lands on the railing of the deck. The man seems to be lucky, and not just because of his name. It’s probably an Eurasian tree sparrow, though it defies me what it would be doing in the middle of the sea. A modern day migrating bird, perhaps. It’s silent. Then it takes off and turns around the corner to the south deck. It doesn’t make a single sound, not even a quick Dit – the most basic Morse code signal for the most common letter, E.

Not to mention a V, an N, a T, an S, a P, I or L. That would spell Ventspils.