SSzimplissim

February 16th, 2007

Deci..voi taia primul fir…am promis povesti din Budapesta, frate..atunci sa bag ceva pe tava..

Azi voi scrie despre Szimpla. Am fost aseara acolo deci aduc prospaturi…

Szimpla asta e un lok mirific. Pe frati-miu l-a pus pe labe. A venit, a luat trei sticle de vin la doi litri(vin bun nu shituri), s-a asezat pe o canapea rosie roasa de soareci, mi-a luat laptopul, a inceput sa butoneze, niste scripcari excentrici au inceput sa cante ceva extra-mundan intr-un coltz..ce mai! frati-miu saliva…Nu se putea gandi decat la casa noastra de la curte din Bucuresti si ce bar similar ar fi putut el sa-si traga..nu acum, ci inca de-acu 5 ani, daca in Romania cineva i-ar fi dat autorizatie de functionare pt un joint ca asta. Si dreptate avea…

Szimpla e un lok d-ala ciudatel, o casa veche care sta sa pice, in care nimik n-a fost razuit, gleduit, zugravit..pt ca n-avea rost, era scump si ceva tre sa puta..

In fine..casa are o curte interioara si doua etaje. Astia vara fac proiectii in curte (ca mai toate cluburile care se respecta si se vor ‘alternative’ p-acilea), iar iarna o inchid cu plexiglas si baga lampi cu butelii ca sa o incalzeasca. Iarna Szimpla e o alee cu lampi de gaz in centru, mese in doua randuri pana in capat, camere si usi crapate imprejur, care dau in saloane darapanate cu scaune de cinema rupte si tarate in colturi. O scara intortocheata te cara la etajul doi unde aleea nu mai exista dar e o un balcon care-nconjoara etajul, cu balustrada de fier forjat, din care poti sa intri in alte cateva camere cu mobila aruncata la intamplare. Locul ala este un labirint, cred ca d-akolo ii vine si magia. Niciodata n-am reusit sa numar exact cate camere are pt ca de fiecare data dau peste o nisa cu un scaun pe care n-o stiam. Ieri m-am ascuns sub scari..eu.trei scaune si o masa de placaj…

Ce mai e fain in Szmpla? Jazzul in surdina, oamenii care ajung acolo intelectuali si pleaca visatori pe trei carari, lumina aia sfasiata care rasare din colturi, acoperisul de plasa care filtreaza vederea etajului, (doi colegi de-ai mei m-au urmarit special in bar si s-au holbat o ora la mine de la etaj ca sa vada cum imi merge o intalnire):)), paharele mari de spritz cu vin alb sec (mor dupa ele), usorul iz de muceai (desi si stiu ca aici nu multi imi vor da dreptate), si…wirelessul…Barul asta e ca un carusel, jjur! E rotund, e colorat, e cinema , e club , e sala de internet si de concerte , e lok de pupaceala si pipaieli, e lok de discutii emancipate cu gasca de la facultate, e lok de lasat pe spate si uitat in tavan…Stiau ei ce stiu cand au zis ‘press alternative but press it hard’…si cuiele au sarit din dusumeaua de lemn..

Revizie

February 2nd, 2007

Mi-am dat seama azi ca asta este un blog trist. E un blog de care imi bat joc constant, e cea mai urata dintre jucariile mele. Il arunc cu lunile; ma intorc si scuip si plang pe el; il folosesc ca sa bag comentarii sarcastice, sa raspandesc barfe si sa ranesc alti oameni ocazional….

Blogul asta e ca o carpa. He’s in bad need of change, oh yeah..my blog will be forced to get a hair-blog-cut!

An Year in Outer Space

January 29th, 2007

I got back from Romania on Sunday morning. By the time I came back I already had homeworks to do for the very next day. Came back and seen all the long, sad faces. Couldn’t enjoy the wine I had brought with anyone; people have presentations to do. The two bottles of wine are waiting quitely in a kitchen corner in my so-called ‘home’.

I hate this place. I probably started hating it the third week after I got here. A place filled with ghosts. No humans, just the long tentacles that their brains and ambitions spread around them; pretty hard to touch flash and bones or get to a twinkle in someone’s eye.

I encountered this pb with everyone. I long for warmth, for smiles, for understandin’, for open talks, for free-rides, for loosening-up, for hearing time ticking on its own and feeling disconnected. I came to perceive this year as a tragedy. I managed to escape from it one week…last week. It was by far too little. At home everything went alright, even better than expected; opened arms everywhere. I knew it..there was nothing wrong with me, plenty of ppl feel the same way. I stood every morning for coffee with my parents, every night drinking with different friends, dancing , getting hugged, being flattered, being spoiled, spoiling back.

Suddenly, a 13 hours train ride takes me back to the Hungarian iceland. All I managed where plenty of coffees and laughters on the first day. But people are still stressed. I am stressed myself, and still tired as hell. I spent the night sleeping in a bed I hate, terrified of the wind blowing of my window. The night is the only safe time here, the only time out. Sleep ought to take you somewhere else. It did so, so many times till now, but I cannot remember the last morning here when I did not have to rush out of bed with my eyes on a clock. It’s horrible, tearing urself away from ur dreams. It hurts, people should always step from one dream to another, and when they need to jump, someone should hold a hand out and help the passage.

The tragedy lies in my confusion. I do not know how much I’ve earned this year in school, compared to the ruin school brought in my life. So many missed opportunities, so many spoiled moments, so many moments interrupted, limited, acking, breaking and crying. So many thoughts and hopes lost on the way, so much stress and lack of creativity. I used to do that, I used to be a reader, a writer, a play-sucker, a project manager, a good friend, an entertaining girlfriend. I used to have ideas bursting out of my head several times a day. Now, all my last ideas…I had them while sleeping..I wonder why. And the worst…I can feel my own decay and ppl’s faith and interest in me falling…every impression of me breaks like a statue and I am the one spectator.
It’s all supposed to be in virtue of a higher purpose, of something noble, of something dashy and daring. But still, every night when I go home, i hide a terrified mouse under my blanket…and still all I hear around me is : 8 more weeks, 8 more weeks and it’s over!

Extatic..

January 10th, 2007

I know….I know…haven’t been around for quite a while. But then again..u know..the sweet pleasure of comin home.

Last night i found myself practically at the gates of Hell. Such a weird place..the place where u find urself at the edge of ur soul. Look down and see nothin, absolutely nothin; look back ..then again, u see everything u do not want to see anymore. which way to go? Nowhere. That is how u feel every time ur soul is full of somethin. Therefore..I argue my thesis here: it is a critical feature of the human system: the soul has to recicle every once in a while…stupid thing, someone had promissed eternity but not endless amounts of ’soulish’ substance.

Due to this mishappening I obviously had to give smth up, smth had to be emptied in order to keep it beating..and..hmmm..i so love that beat sound.

I give away through speach and gesture. Last night, my jerkish ex had safely turned off his phone(that’s what u do thinkin all girls ought to be fairy tales) and my mom just couldn’t be woken up. I was sitting at 4 am upon some stairs at the tenth floor of a stupd dormitory, bitting the tips of my knees, hugging myself in order not to loose any part of me. Hapilly..I managed my way home. Budapest was just waking up when I crossed the bridge over the Danube at 7 am. The Parliament was half sunny, half shadowed by fog. The world still breathing, felt like worth while…

I managed reaching my mom around 9. I cried into the phone begging her to promiss she’d never leave me standin’, that she’d never let me out bitting myself, trying to recover pieces of what I used to be. And, no…she did not. I am still her kitten. That’s all it takes in order live quiet, if one has a healthy conscience. Just knowin that someone out there cannot live without u does it. It’s worth living till the end.

Do not jerk around with ppl. When everyone turns their back u will no longer find a self amongst dead criteria. #I luv my mom and dad, and my best friend who beggs me to get over. That’s how I know. It is definetly worth while. and enjoying…

I am developing myself right now in a bar, with colleagues. Talkin on mess with my friends, planning cooking events with my colleagues. Life tastes good at certain times, when u get out of pain. Really good indeed. The painkillers however, oh..the painkillers..those could kill u!

Pasiuni

December 23rd, 2006

“Before the war of 1914, I was accused of falling into ‘literature’. Today people call me a painter of fairy tales and fantasies.(…)I try to fill my canvases in some way with objects and figures treated as forms…sonorous forms like sounds…passionate forms designed to add a new dimension which neither the geometry of the Cubists nor the patches of the Impressionists can achieve. ”

Marc Chagall,

Holyoke College 1943

“I would like to go up to that bareback rider who has just reappeared, smiling; her dress, a bouquet of flowers. I would circle her with my flowered and unflowered years. On my knees, I would tell her wishes and dreams not of this world.

I would run after her horse to ask her how to live, how to escape from myself, from the world, whom to run to, where to go. ”

extras din Le Cirque 1967 

silent nights

December 21st, 2006

“we’re naked again
maybe all we need
is water and friends
shackles and chains”

“i wanna be just like you
i wanna feel right through you
i wanna see just with you
i wanna live
i wanna die you”

“i wanna fit inside you
i wanna room inside you
if money talks i wanna buy you
i wanna die
i wanna die
i wanna live you
i’m not scared of you
gave up on drugs
if i make it through
the jaws of love
jaws of love
you give”

And..yeah…Bush says it damn good, doesn’t it?

si mi-am mai amintit si de melodia care ii scrantea sentimentele lui Tudor, “Without you” de la Blink …da , era oki asa…am subestimat-o la mom respectiv, am zis ca are Mark o voce de strachina dar hai ca parca suna ceva…

Life is cruel and jolly seasons come spilling shiny crap in ur face; just a reminder..that in the end…all of us lay alone biting our skin off in the dark.

U keep on…listening ‘to the music of the traffic in the city’, staring goofy at shop windows, enjoy a red velevet corner when outside is dead cold, spill a tear, taste it with the tip of ur tongue..and then..once again..u know,,…u cannot happily be mistakin’..this is really,oh so dearly, ..the crappy you!

And oh so..i conclude(Bush again!):

” Cause I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud
It’s taken me all this time to find out what I need”

Tis the season to be jolly!

Some ppl are like the wind

December 20th, 2006

Some ppl are like the wind….A door opens somewhere.. before you turn your head to see who it was, there’ s already no one there. You hear footsteps to your left, again you turn..nothing, thin air. You think u’ve had a dark vision rushing through your sight, you raise your head, try to look ahead…no, nothin’ there. Nothin much. Almost not a single thing. It’s just the rest of your thoughts making the air sweep left and right and ultimately rush out again..through the same door.

All I want for Christmas is….

December 9th, 2006

Catalin m-a taguit sa scriu despre ce imi doresc de la Mos Nicolae. Din pacate in infundatura asta de biblioteca ecoul virtual se pierde printre foi si..uite asa..a trecut Mos Nicolae.Nu, ..nu stiam ce vreau..si orikum nu am primit nimik. Dar poate si intarzierea asta face rost de o noua taguiala..hai mai bine sa vb de Santa..ca e mai popular decat Old Nick; e rosu cu alb, ca martishoru; e sanctificat de Coca-Cola..si,..ce mai incolo si-ncoace, e un VIP care fura mintea la mii de plozi.

Deci..am sa ii zik lui Cata si lumii intregi ce vreau de la Mos Craciun.

Vreau sa ajung cat mai repede acasa si sa dorm cel putin 10 din cele 15 ore cat dureaza drumul asta nenorocit cu trenul. Vreau sa ma astepte fratele meu la gara cu un prieten sau doi, sa ma duc acasa, sa imi imbratisez parintii si dupa, sa ma spritzuiesc la garsoniera lu frati’miu. Vreau sa ajung la 1 acasa si sa ma strecor in pat cu mama si sa adorm langa ea, pt ca ea e singura care stie cum sa ma tina in brate. Vreau sa fiu prima in picioare dimineata, sa ma duc la bucatarie si sa fac o cafea buna, cum i place lu taica-miu. Vreau sa vad cum se trezeste blocul si cum vecinii traverseaza strada in parcul Carol la 7 dimineata sa plimbe serii de potai. Vreau sa imi trezesc parintii si sa bem cafeaua in bucatarie, sa dschidem geamul din cauza fumului de tigara dupa juma de ora…

Vreau sa imi sun prietenele si sa merg in oras la cumparaturi ieftine. Vreau sa merg la Catalin si sa gatim asa cum i-am promis, makar de data asta.

Vreau sa ma duk sa dansez intr-un loc nou de la Unirii, ‘Pe Baricade’, care cica e mai tare ca Fire-ul, desi asta nu era greu de atins acum…

Vreau sa plec la Sinaia de Craciun si sa stau cuminte pe un scaun sorbind bauturi scumpe cu copiii prietenilor de familie; pt ca de Craciun, dar doar atunci..ni se da tot ce vrem..Glenfiddich, Remy Martin, Finlandia, si cate soiuri de vin se poate…sa curga frate spritzul, sa avem trei feluri de sarmale pe masa de la toate bucataresele si sa le aud certandu-se despre retele de cozonac..Doamne mi-e atat de dor de asta!

Doar atat vreau..sa vad toti oameni pe care ii iubesc, in locuri pe care deja le stiu, de 10 ani, chiar mai mult. Nu am nevoie de extravagantza…adu-mi Moshule doar toate lucrurile de langa care am plecat.

Sunrise

October 22nd, 2006

Azi ma gandeam la cum ar trebui sa se resimta despartirile..exact asa..ca rasaritul.

Cum e rasaritul?

Ca atunci cand te ridici ditr-un pat cald, din asternuturi cu miros de piele si plapumi calduroase, cand afara e racoare, cand frigul te dezmeticeste. Imaginea devine mai clara, lucida; lumina e in continua crestere dupa intunecimea noptii; totul isi pierde mirosul pe care il avea in ziua de dinainte..e un miros nou, de jilav si de vant.

La rasarit te uiti la soare pana devine atat de puternic incat aproape te orbeste; rosul se pierde in lumina didminetii treptat.

La rasarit te scoli numai cu un scop..sa te duci la munka, sa prinzi lumina, sa-ti faci siesta. La rasarit ai cele mai tari cafele si unii dintre noi cele mai tari tigari. La rasarit capul ti-e inka gol de gandurile mizerabile ce se aduna treptat odata cu zgomotele dimprejur.

La rasarit iti faci planuri, toata ziua se desfasoara credincioasa inaintea ta. Iubesc rasariturile la care iti faci planuri de petrecere pt seara.

La rasarit faci dusuri reci ca sa trezesti si te imbraci in haine noi, cu mirosuri noi.

Tot atunci crezi in toate lucrurile pe care nu le-ai incercat si toate lucrurile care te-asteapta..iluzia unei zile intregi…una dintre cele mai frumoase iluzii ale oamenilor..ca daca mai au o zi intreaga ..orice este posibil, pot face totul: pot invata pt un examen, pot sa isi schimbe orasul sau locuinta, pot sa castige ce au pierdut cu o zi inainte, pot inlocui tot ce au pierdut cu o zi inainte, pot cumpara seturi noi de orice pt orice..cum ar fi creioane si stilouri cu care sa scrie un roman intreg intr-o singura zi, pot sa priveasca totul cu ochi noi si sa isi schimbe actul de identitate daca vor.

Unele femei chiar cred cu desavarsire ca pot slabi 30 de kile intr-o zi, sfarsesc orikum prin a slabi unul singur dar a se simti de o mie de ori mai frumoase.

Unele rasarituri sunt cu adevarat magie. Cele mai tari sunt alea in care zbori cu cafeaua in mana in fata calculatorului si te uiti la un film…trecerea dinkolo e atat de usoara. Deja la ora pranzului te simti ca si cum ai o noua viata.

Asa ar trebui sa fie toate despartirile. Un rasarit e de fiecare data cand o usa se inchide in urma ta, un rasarit e de fiecare data cand o pereche de ochi fug de ochii tai si pasii se indeparteaza tiptil, un rasarit e fiecare nota proasta, fiecare pereche noua de pantofi, absolut orice clinchet de pahare si mai ales masa de Craciun. Life goes on …..i am a little halo in search of sunrise.

Response to an essay on human distance

October 2nd, 2006

On September 29th Catalin, my friend from Romania, posted on his blog this essay. Reading it made me remember another short essay I read in school last week, an essay about technological communication and how it affects relationships, by changing the human nature from within, both ways: self-esteem and esteem in what regards others.

Practically, the hypothetical situation described by Catalin is a very simple, real one(what would happen if a man was asked to kill another, in 5 possible scenarios:

  1. empty handed
  2. with a sword
  3. with a rifle
  4. by pressing a button, without seeing the victim
  5. pressing a button, unidentified victim, unidentified country

He started close by, as from the moment u can feel the victim’s skin and bones strectchin’ and brakin’ in ur own hands, and ended it in a geopolitical manner, the way most of strategic killings are done nowadays.

There is no need of wondering too far speculating in order to find issues that re-describe contemporary morality.

Evidently, the question posed was about the most probable scenario that would come through if a man was asked to choose. No. 5 would come up, cause it has the benefit of loosing on the way of distance common ingredients in human nature, such as fear, solidarity and resemblance among people.

The questions I pose:

Are solidarity and resemblance a lame resource of morality, if in the long run they prove to have only a spatial-conditioned functioning? Are they an invalid principle because they require a shared space and eye-sight (a space in which two subjects can perceive each-other)? So, is our moral world simply human sense-described?

I usually think that resemblance and solidarity aren’t lame resources as I believe they are the only resources that we have. We mustn’t pretend to be moral beings, in lack of these resources, and consider them to be as futile human secretions which stand on a basement of pure fear. How real is the human morality and if it has a self-sufficient; of prime order existence or if it’s just a sequel from a much powerful, not so noble instinct- it’s a question that’s usually solved out by presuming human conscience. The fact that guilt is not dictated by fear is enough moral evidence.

Here I won’t even consider the religious argument, perceiving guilt as proof of fear of God.  Our society doesn’t function anymore on eternal crediting; we have goals and expectations that consume across a life’s length. As a practical argument, I wouldn’t consider it valid.

Fear blends with self-preservation; it usually involves flash and bones, not the human soul. We act upon wanting to save ourselves the way we are and maintaining our basic physiology. So, in the long distance…moral walks away from fear, stepping behind our eye-sight and our heart beats.

Is distance an excuse for lack of morality?

I argue that a man who takes this for granted has actually reduced his human capacities, in search of an easy way for humans. If simple is touching the other’s hand and difficult is thinking of the other, pressing the button would definitely be the easy way. However, that’s not the absolute human way. There is no such thing as a legitimate exemption from morals, were it given the distance…

People in search of the ‘safe distance’ are the ones who actually reduce their capacity of projection and imaging and act upon the primary instinct of fear. ‘Safe distance’ is a fear dictated concept, which excludes a physical menace out of a range of physical harmful possibilities. Functioning within a safe distance presumes nothing about conscience. Thus, it does not provide the moral context in itself. Only for this, distance cannot be considered exemption from morals, rather an exemption from fear, given the lack of morals.

One could say that ‘safe distance’ can function as a conscience distancing…as in: what u don’t know can’t hurt u (psychologically).This is a conscientious operation however. In order to act this way, first u hold the conscience of a possible threat, then u act on dismantling it. This distance doesn’t provide impossibility for acts of conscience, just a simple path of working ur way around them.

Distance is for the ones who have a reduced semantics of their own actions, the ones who believe that a human space is truly limited by eye-sight and thus, this space can easily brake away into multiple more dimensions along geographical lines.

As I answered Catalin: luckily, today we have the Interpol, and that saves us from a few pressed buttons or follows their signal; that’s not a general rule for safeguarding world morals however.

Given our contemporary virtual space-stretching, which enables us to reach and harm people we didn’t know for sure as existent hundreds of years ago, there should be a new branch in Ethics as referred to the possibility of having worldly morals.

However, a thing we surely knew existed within our own capacities, since forever, is our ingenious possibility for re-creating and representing spaces which we cannot reach. Thus, we can consciously follow every line of personal action that goes beyond our eye-sight. Imagined consequences, given correct information, have a very strong rate of probability. We do not stand helpless at the physical boundaries of our actions, nor do we do that when such actions simply cross our physical space and go beyond. The spectator view of the world is so not in fashion anymore..

The fact that man needs to be assisted by reality or representations in order to achieve moral actions is not a proof of inferiority. Morals as a response to given contexts are the only morals we have: the morals of our actions which reflect upon others. We can’t imagine morals in a space without solidarity and resemblance, that space is our mirror, our impulse and our standard dictator. There is no such thing as a moral of solitude. We can’t have morals without our assumption that human being is a given plural and that coexistence is in fact the existence. However…our given space for perceiving this condition goes far beyond our eyes, given a pair of mind lenses.

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