I'm living on watermelon until August.

Next to every fruit stand, in front of grocery stores and in the courtyard of the market, iron domed cages have appeared, their vertical bars painted green. All at once they popped up like mushrooms after the rain, covered with tarps and empty, for the time being. Watermelon season has begun: within a few days those giant cages will be filled with mountains of enormous Asterkhan watermelons for 18 rubles/kilogram. All of St. Petersburg will be seen carrying the swollen green melons under their arms, taking them home to be a constant feature at the dinner table for the next month or so.



I got my first rejection today, from an artist who doesn't think it's worth his time:

(my direct translation) "I understand you, princess--you need to defend something, your dissertation or I don't remember what, but I'm not sure that I need to waste time on these frivolous goings-on. Understand me correctly, don't get offended."

I suddenly realize how critical it is to make myself and my project seem important; being modest will get me nowhere. From now on I'm slamming all my credentials down all at once: fellowship from prestigious university, support of the State Center of Contemporary Art, huge list of artists I've already spoken with. I gotta make it seem like all the cool kids are doing it! Although most of the cool kids don't seem to need much convincing; they agree right away. Summer is a slow season for artists in St. Petersburg, the exhibition season hasn't started yet, and they seem to be eager for ways to spend their time.

I, on the other hand, am running out of time to spend! And there are too many ways to spend it! Walking around the city, sunning in the park, playing music, swimming in the countryside, eating vegetarian food at a Hare Krishna cafe (why is every vegetarian cafe here run by a cult?), sweating buckets in the awful humidity. Yeah, I've got a full schedule.