Magiun vs. Chocolate

August 27th, 2006

Astazi…prietena mea Oana ma suna din Panagaratzi (o localitate aproape de Piatra Neamt unde parintii ei, obositi de o viata la oras, s-au retras si si-au facut o casa).

Este prima vara in care Oana se intoarce acasa si este nevoita sa isi ia adio de la cluburile si cofetariile din Piatra si sa reziste eroic la polifonia redusa a greierilor si a trenurilor care trec din cand in cand prin zona. Oana a studiat cu mine in Cj cinci ani de zile, dar pe langa fascinatia “marelui burg”, a mai petrecut si cateva veri in America…

In fine…azi ma suna Oana si, aducandu-si aminte de toate acele seri de studenta din Cj in care, stand in fatza calculatorului, i se facea pofta de ciocolata la 12 noaptea si faceam amandoua un raid nocturn la non-stop, imi spune dezamagita:

-         Mai ….ca sa iti inchipui cum e aici…ieri dupa-maiza mi s-a facut pofta de ciocolata si am vrut sa ma duc sa imi iau. Ce crezi ca imi spun astia..ca nu am de unde; singurul magazin era deschis doar pana la 2.

-         Da mai..asta e..viata la tzara :) Tu iti dai seama cate gravide de-acolo traiesc doar pe magiun si corcoduse cand li se face pofta?

Consecintza logika ar fi…in Pangaratzi sigur se nasc multi copii de culoarea prunei si cu capete perfect rotunde…toate acele corcoduse coapte care au acceptat rolul de fake chocolate si nu au ajuns in burta unui butoi cu tzuika..sau rachiu..cin’ stie ce se bea la Pangaratzi..cand nu e deschis la magazin..sa iei ca tot omu’ un PET de Norok.

 

‘Israel vs. Lebanon’ or ‘How is it to stand at the end of the row when u went out to buy peace?’

August 20th, 2006

I came out with this funny-hazy title cauz’ the latest news simply cried for a crisis of black humor; that’s my reaction to stupid stuff that outrages me…crisis of pure nervous laughter.

So…let me begin…

Last week I‘d heard on CNN a conversation between a CNN reporter and a guy from the UN General Secretary’s office. The conversation aimed at dissolving the fog that surrounded the oh-so striking news of the oh-so brave soldiers that were to be deployed in Lebanon as a contribution to the already notorious UN’s peace enforcement and peace-keeping actions.

First…the very words ‘peace’ + ‘enforcement’ made me sick since the first time I heard it in school. I mean….can peace really be enforced? Can u walse ur way though peace with fire-arms, the same way u walsed during the war?

For all those strategy builders out there….that’s a silly question and the answer is conceived in the belly of simple war-logics:

‘Yeah, of course u can,..u dummie! There’s no other way. How ‘da hell are u gonna stop  the crazy men baring guns if u ain’t got the guts and experience of baring one urself ?’. J

About the peace-enforcement utopia…. Ya,..basically,..that is the real deal…it’s obvious…u can’t obtain a cease fire, unless.. u appear on the stage with a larger weapon or a more numerous army. If only those were the only rules of the game..the operation of frightening up the anger and making it stop.

This play is not a monologue. War has a distinct sophisticated mechanism. So let’s say:

Character no1: we got UN as an international body …who is bound to act strategic and awfully pragmatic; first because it supports the heavy critical eye of international press; second …cauz’ it prefers such actions which are after all very dual as meaning, and that’s a very fine image equation.

By acting like that u get:

a. the humanitarian objective marked out- I mean..obviously: why the cease-fire, if not to stop the killing;

b. u carefully avoid the real disputes about the real subjects, putting them on delay, cauz’ of the primary humanitarian objective; only, funny thing, afterwards….u tend to go into a sort of international amnesia…and u start peace-enforcement, then peace-building, then peace-keeping, then, …the after-math  of peace,…only by that time u’ve already taken ur tail out of the territory…it’s their blame again, u did not interfere, u’ve helped actually, and at high-costs…the whole world knows that. It’s not ur failure…it’s theirs, once again. So what do u do? Proclaim a whole new cease fire. By this time, hopefully…a generation of soldiers has changed…so they won’t make any fuss about it.

Character no.2: we got the citizens of the countries were peace is to be enforced.

And here I mean plain, normal citizens; not soldiers, nor politicians, the citizens walking that walk on the street, follow the road, get to the bridge, wanna’ cross it, but the bridge ain’t no more, so they turn around, get wood and rope..try again..

To these citizens peace-enforcement is not actually a bliss. Green uniforms down the street don’t mean the war is over. It’s just one more proof of danger standing at the gates somewhere nearby.

Larger effectives? Oh,..that’s just a bigger threat…means more arms baring weapons, more people waiting to be killed..and, more important, more people being authorized in order to do the killing.

For these citizens, international forces are no medicine; that’s just one more thing to worry about and live in fear. They see them as intruders, as people baring a false mandate to deploy authority. They hate them for intruding, they hate them for the space they’re violating, they hate them for having the nerve to impose on people who probably before, never knew that an international force existed. For these people international force is a second layer police, acting upon some stranger’s laws (their uniforms are feared, their actions are seen as completely arbitrary),…they loose identity, become secluded…in this view, peace-enforcement is more of a conquest than a real aid.

Character no.3: here we got the member countries of UN’s Security Council.  Practically this is the place where the real deal is widely known and also, the place where the real deal holds back or falls off.

The nature of the engagement that these countries have towards UN and its actions is very confused. First…because they are not obliged to follow any rule of international law, only an isolated treaty-based law, where the biggest possible sanction is exclusion from the body. Second …because their engagement, mediated by UN, is actually an engagement towards an international good cause, but that’s just an utopia’s image.

The real rules governing such bodies are not rules made in the spirit of justice; they are economic rules, made in terms of cost-benefit. In this terms…some wars seem expensive, others very cheap if u count out the outcome.

So…they’ve decided to put together a 15.000 people peace enforcement effective. U got to think of this as of a group of kids putting their money together, setting out to buy a piece of candy.

Some of them already know that candy and they don’t fancy the flavor, so, no…they ain’t gonna give their money.

Others know the candy, tasted it so many times before, became tired of it or found themselves dissatisfied…so,…no,..they ain’t gonna give their mney.

Other others know the candy, dreamed of it so many times, never got to taste it, although they’ve spent money on it before,…so,..it’s a high risk operation to try for it one more time, so,..no,..they’re gonna stick to chocolate this time.

The ones who actually put the money down for the candy…are: the ones who are ashamed not to; the ones who are obliged to (cauz’ that’s their curse: to always put money down for a bigger kid that’s gonna beat u up if he doesn’ get the candy); the ones who want, who like, and who can obviously afford the candy. They have just one more stair to climb on the candy eaters ierarchy,…u gotta stand in row for that candy…sometimes, …so many times. U gotta have a strong objective that blanks out tiredness and boredom;..and believe, strongly believe in the power of The Candy.

That’s what Italy is doing  right now (sending the biggest part of the starting effective). That’s what France isn’t doing no more (no need for that candy no more).

That’s what Germany has been doing for several years, pouring all sorts of troups everywhere, hoping for a permanent seat in the Security Council. Still…no candy.

That’s what US didn’t even bother to think of doing…cauz it’s a permanent member, it practically owns the Candy Shop…

Post #49

August 19th, 2006

Ar fi trebuit sa ma gandesc de doua ori la inceputuri..cand blogul s-a autocaptivat expresiv ca ‘nut-cracking’. A fost, de fapt, an uncensored glimpse. Daca as fi stiut atunci de cate ori va trebui sa privsc pe ecranul negru acele litere care desemneaza atat de perfect my daily life..I would of gone for something more joyful, more glittery, more trendy…se pare ca din glumele ieftine ranjeste sinceritatea.

Hibernez de trei sapatmani, poate chiar mai mult; I stopped counting de ceva timp..

Intre timp, in lume si in lumea mai apropriata, se intamla chestii importante. Ecranul televizorului zvacneste sonor in fiecare seara la ora 7…so yeah..the world is still out there..what a shame..for all of us, pretenders like me, pretending not to be a part of it.

In zile ca asta urasc oamenii care au viata..care au o viata de-adevaratelea. Stii…genul ala de oameni care arata cu degetul, rad si spun soptit in sinea lor: Oh, spare me! K’mon man, get a life! Am spus-o si eu de-atatea ori cand aveam impresia ca I am on top above all daily things, ca I got my programme, much longer than 9-5…but still, sunt zile goale, pe care le tragi constient si lipsit de noroc dintr-un mare pachet de carti; sunt cartoane blank…with no numbers to gamble upon, no smiley faces…

M-am luptat azi aproape o ora cu un prieten who was trying as hell to drag me outta the house. Cred ca am ramas si cu vanatai. De trei ori m-a luat in brate sa ma scoata pe usa, de trei ori am scapat..in final, nu am reusit decat sa ii fac lui nervi si sa raman din nou singura, cu regrete..nu pt ca as fi proasta..ci pt lipsa de bun simt. Uneori nesimtirea mi se autoimpune ca o clauza de salvagardare.

E ceva magic in zilele de vara toride, in care inchizi toate geamurile din casa, dai drumul la aer conditionat..si totul ramane in penumbra. In casa, singurele lumini raman liniile galbene care scapa prin jaluzele si se reflecta in oglinzi…ceva ce imi aminteste de copilarie. E ceva la fel de magic in cooking a meal for one, pouring carefully a glass of wine, carrying it in front of the tv, and enjoying the space around u. For a short time u find urself self-centered.

De fiecare data cand primesc in dar 2-3 zile de singuratate imi promit ca le voi folosi for thinking over, for makin the big decisions. What a bluff! All the big decisions in my life took me months of painfull disputes over nothin’ that was to become real; instead, no more than 10 seconds to make when the moment urged me to do it. Compromisurile sunt rapide; free choice, on the other hand takes a lot of time.

Mai pe seara am sa ies la o bere. Noaptea imi permit sa ies. The night is dead..no pretenders there…not me at least. Noaptea nu trebuie sa ma prefac ca I am a busy, target-oriented person. At night…doors aren’t ment to knock upon, phones are not ment to ring, nor to be answered…What a R-untitled1.bmp.

 

August 16th, 2006

Tocmai am vazut Lord of War (alias ‘Traficantul de arme’ …Nicholas Cage, Ethan Hawke, etc.) Too late in my life,…i know…the burtain of shame is pressing my shoulders.

Urasc filmele astea care seem so look alike cu o realitate pe care doar o intuim…de fapt ele asta sunt…o banuiala,..un pik mai mult,…o intuitie. Raman asa..pt ca sunt fantasmagorice, pt ca sunt arta, pt ca in studiourile de la Hollywood nu se intra cu legitimatii de feds decat pt droguri, in schimb, in multe alte birouri, pe sub , pe langa perdele…in hoteluri si mai ales in dormitoare, suna telefoane la ore tarzii…telefoane in care vb vocea unei intuitii sau a geniului din lampa..u never know…si tot pe langa, sunt pahare fine, de cristal, cu bauturi tari, fum de trabucuri, urechi predispuse care poarta cercei cu diamante…din atitudini omenesti iau nastere intuitiile forte…si ceea ce transpare..oficial -fantasmagoric, artistic -good story, optic -devine imaginea unei intuitii.

In mom ca astea ma gandesc ca in anumite franturi de arta nu este sublimul cel care accelereaza pulsul ci ceea ce respira sub panza si ceea ce scanceste dincolo de lentila…undeva o piele zgariata inca simte asta.

Poate pare delicios de delirious…dar asta este granitza paranoiei…si pragul este subtire….it’s a spider web that catches, makes walk on the edge, u fall in and then bounce back on the sides.

Filme ca asta ma fac sa imi readuc aminte de ce spunea Wittgenstein…limitele posibilului nu au nimik de a face cu etika sau constiintza…adik..maybe it catches u finally but not before doing The Deed; limitele posibilului sunt discursive,..sunt limitele in care putem gandi si vorbim…si da …there’s a lot of talking goin’ on in this world.

Si, desigur, dupa asemenea filme…vocatia mea etika seems again just a pathetic failure. Morala nu va fi niciodata atat de iute de picior, nici precautiile, nici prejudecatile…ceva din noi o ia tot timpul inaintea noastra pe o cale gresita.

Imi amintesc ca acum un an am intrebat un absolvent de teologie si filosofie daca se poate considera un pacat cel care este savarsit fara suportul constiintei (fara o constiinta a pacatului sau a greselii).

Sistemul juridic spune ca da..se cheama costiinta juridica si i se asociaza raspunderea juridica.

Ce spune religia? Religia spune ca nu, religia fura balanta din mana justitiei atunci cand aceasta are considerente sa dezechillibreze un taler;…o fura si apasa cu degetul in suflet. Il poate scoate plin de sange..dar amprenta trebuie pusa,..stigmatul ramane.

Studentul a zis ca nu..ca pacatul  ramane pacat si ca vinovatia exista…conform legii dvine care se instaureaza deasupra constiintei omenesti..pt ca de fapt…ea nu a fost cusuta oricum pe masura acesteia..ea este masura universului. Etica e un esec si echilibrul sta in alta parte…poate intr-o legitate, poate in divinitate.

Ce spune Dumnezeu? De cand sunt mica si stau noaptea pe geam intrebandu-ma, la o secunda dupa alung gandul si imi acopar urechea. Nu stiu daca vreau sa aud, nu stiu daca vreau sa cred ca vorbeste, nu stiu daca vreau sa fiu fanatica sau schizofrenica, nu stiu daca raspunsul nu ma va impietri pe loc. Niciodata nu stii efectul unei intrebari bine puse..riscul este intotdeauna anihilarea..

Inchei..pt ca deja am impresia ca de pe cer,  afara, au disparut stelele. Dupa acest post probabil imi va fi frika sa sting si lampa…

Despre clisee si rationalitate

July 21st, 2006

Aseara am avut un soi de disputa cu un prieten bun de-al meu. Stateam linistiti pe Strada de vara. Eram la a doua sticla de vin, mancam niste salate ratate ca formula….o prietena de-a mea pomeneste despre fostul ei prieten, si, post-afirmativ, transpare din ea o oaresce afectare (genul ala de glimpse in gol, care de fapt e in suflet, care incearca momentan sa surprinda ceva inexprimabil). Prietenul meu observa si sare brusc ca un arc: “Dar ce e? Care e treaba? Te-a parasit? Ei ..asta e…un dobitoc.”

Vinul are darul de a crea specialisti peste pahar …si asta e un fapt stiut. Prietena mea era inca afectata. Nu avea nici un chef sa ii raspunda. Pretenul continua: in final lucrurile astea sunt foarte usoare, daca te uiti in trecut, toti sunt fie ‘bitch’ fie ‘dobitoci’.

Mie mi se parea ca discutia lua proportii perverse deja asa ca incerc sa pun punct discursului clasificator: “Nu! Nu a parasit-o!”

“Si atunci care e problema?”

“Lucrurile nu sunt intotdeauna atat de simple. Nu trebuie intotdeauna sa fii parasit ca sa te simti asa. Sunt regrete..in orice situatie.”

Prietenul iar deviaza gresit: “Aaaa…deci inca il mai iubesti?”

Pe mine incepe sa ma enerveze, ea era vizibil iritata, nimanui nu-i place ca viata lui sa fie transata cu cutitul ratiunii just as any piece of usual chewable meat. “Nu! Nu il mai iubeste! Si lucrurile astea nu sunt atat de simple. Nu e totul alb si negru.”

” Ei..ba da, totul este extrem de simplu”

Mie personal nu imi venea sa cred ca omul asta isi ghideaza viata dupa ceva ce seamana a rationalitate amoroasa, care mie mi se parea un fel de contradictie intre termeni. Incepe sa imi explice cat de cuantificabila este indragostirea ca si proces. Ca toate variabilele ei sunt cunoscute si pot fi apreciate la un anumit moment.

Nu am nimic impotriva rationalitatii..este o chestie care ne salveaza pe fiecare, individual,…si intreaga turma deseori. Cu totii cunoastem viziunea cristal-clear a luciditatii..insa eu spun…sunt momente in viata in care tot ce pot aprecia rational este lipsa luciditatii. Adica..sunt constienta de ea, pot spune cu mana pe inima ca in acele momente i am fucked up rationally , ca nu functionez la intreaga mea capacitate roboteasca.

Indragostirea are tendinta de a crea astfel de stari. Nu cred in ‘ indragostitii strategici’, cei care stau cu foi imaculate in fata, cu creioane ascutite si fac calcule de compatibilitate, denigrand ambele registre- si pe cel algebric, si pe cel al animei. Oamenii astia sunt din principiu ascutiti: au in mana un creion ascutit pe care il baga ulterior in buzunar, in buzunar au o batista apretata cu colturile ascutite, au unghiile ascutite, varful pantofilor ascutiti…totul la ei este o schema interpretativa a ceea ce ei cred cu desavarsire ca sunt: sharp minded people.

Nimeni nu poate vorbi despre un triumf complet al ratiunii, nimeni care inca are confuzii zilnice, intrebari care ii perturba schemele deductive, nimeni care inca da de acele dead-enduri care se preling atat de armonic in irational.

In final…l-am combatut pe pretenul meu cu un argument estetic: “Nu poti cuantifica sublimul estetic!”(as in..nu poti cuantifica ceva strain de categoriile tale).

Mai sunt pe acest blog doua posturi care ating limite similare: unul despre geniu si unul despre lirism. Ambele..nu fac pereche buna cu rationalitatea. Ca sa ramana clar: nu propovaduiesc o atitudine irationala care ar transforma experienta noastra zilnica intr-un sir de preludii bachice; dar, sa incerci sa excluzi din calcul incalculabilul e o aberatie aproape stiintifica, e ca si cum ai incerca sa razi cu lama partea de pe eticheta hainelor colorate care spune ca tebuie spalate la 30 de grade, si ulterior sa te prefaci ca sunt albe, sa le speli la o garmada cu toate carpele destinate machiavelic celor 90 de grade. In final..ramai cu zdrente. Iluzia nu este valabila decat intr-o faza proiectiva; pusi in practica ca roboti…we always fail. Un om zdruncinat un pic de viata isi da seama de asta, cand zgariate fiind primele straturi ale epidermei, nu se intrezareste nimic anorganic dedesubt, nimic similar cu un cablu, un cip sau un tablou de comanda…

Orange Blossom

July 17th, 2006

A fost o noapte cu multe stele cazatoare in Liban. ..In timp ce barbatii isi stingeau carbunii in narghilea iar femeile isi impatureau valul inainte de culcare, in timp ce mai multi copii priveau visatori pe geam in intunericul camerei, ploaia a venit. Profetul nu prezice ore fixe..

Cu siguranta copiii au tipat si au iesit alergand din camere, plonjand in bratele mamelor. Exista oameni care dorm in orasele bombardate?

Au fost ucisi 17 oameni in Liban si 9 in Israel in ultima runda care va deveni curand doar o alta varianta matriciala a unui ‘Chicken Game’

Intre timp liderii G8 spun ca Israelul isi actualizeaza un drept de self-defense si nu se pronunta pentru oprirea ostilitatilor, UN trimite ‘team leaders’ in Beirut in semn de solidaritate, incercand sa apere civilii prin prezente oficiale.

Peste 300 de romani au cerut evacuarea din Liban si acest lucru se va intampla cu ajutorul autobuzelor, actiune finantata dintr-un ‘fond special consular’ accesat de ministrul Ungureanu…

Saptamana trecuta, Cipru, care are deja o istorie a-la-carte de peacekeeping, s-a auto-oferit sa medieze evacuarile pentru doritori. Europa isi retrage tentaculele lasand in urma leaganul crestinismului.

‘Orange blossom’ este cea mai autentica amintire a celor din Fasia Gaza din vremurile bune. Oamenii povestesc despre nopti cu briza usoara, cu sunet de valuri si cu miros de portocali, cu  apa potabila…noptile dinaintea orasului refugiat in seceta si metale ruginite..

Peste cativa ani se vor rescrie cele 1001 de nopti si ele vor povesti despre o aratare cu ochi de foc care s-a coborat pe pamant; multi vor zice ca asa arata dumnezeul biblic si o noua ceata de profeti se va aduna sa rastalmaceasca semnul.

Sighisoara seven-Teen!

July 11th, 2006

Prima oara cand am fost in cetate a fost la 17 ani. Era o vara teribil de calda, eu eram cu parintii mei la Sinaia si, fiind copil cuminte pe vremea aceea, nu stiam de existenta fetsivalului. La Sinaia aveam o gasca de roackerite in bloc, prietene cu mine, cu vreun an-doi mai mari. A fost o zi fatidica ziua in care am ciulit urechile si am prins frecventa pe care se vorbea de fetsival. A urmat o saptamana amara: certuri cu ai mei (care stiau ei foarte bine cam care e miscarea cu fetsivalul..inutil sa spun: aveau dreptate!): nu poti! nu te duci singura acolo, nu e frati-tu cu tine, nu ai unde sa dormi, nu ii cunosti pe astia, nu pleci si iarasi NU PLECI!

Gasca trebuia sa plece din Sinaia vineri…mie mi se parea imposibil sa plece fara mine. Eram sigura ca la un moment dat pe ai mei ii va lovi revelatia si imi vor spune ca de alte atatea ori: Bine..hai, du-te…

Dar nu…ajung vineri dupa-amiaza acasa si, de cum intru in bloc, simt un fior rece, de pivnitza pustie…nici un zumzet prin preajma, ca si cum peste 50% din energia locului ar fi parasit spatiul….Dau fuga la una din usile cu pricina: Buna ziua…Alexandra este acasa? Nu…Alexandra a plecat la festival…a fost pe la tine..dar mama a zis ca tu nu mergi..

Imposibil! Incorigibil! I’m seventeen and outraged..and believe me..I was terribly funny back in those days..more of a cartoon character than a girl…

Intru in casa trantind usa, bocind, ma duc si ma inchid in camera..Seara, dupa ce imi trece plansul si sughiturile m-am hotarat ca marea revolutie din viata mea trebuie sa aiba loc, it was now or never, I wasn’t gonna take any more opression. Ma duc pe balcon, aleg o sticla de vin alb, ma duc in bucatarie unde tata statea si sorbea lejer un alt vin privind muntii. Iau tirbusonul, imi deschid in fata lui sticla si imi torn….

Beau un pahar, nu vb nimic cu el..si plec la culcare.

A doua zi…la 7 dimineata cineva ma scutura de somn…Cristina..trezeste-te…hai ca mergem la Sighisoara…shi gata..Revolutia fusese soft…everything was falling in its place..

M-a asteptat sa ma imbrac, s-a trezit devreme doar ca sa ma duca pe mine acolo unde putea foarte bine sa ma lase sa merg cu trenul cu o zi in urma….cu toti prietenii mei.

Am ajuns in ~Sighisoara si pe vreme aia lumea nu avea celulare..am mers prin cetate cu tata si cu fratele meu(penibil)…sa caut o anumita gasca de roackeri(cei care plecasera cu o zi inainte). Aveam impresia ca toata lumea se uita la mine…treceam printre betivi si slinosi si nu ma puteam gandi decat ca : 1. they’ve smelled me..they know…I am the not-naughty one; 2. oare ce naiba crede tata..cand ii vede pe astia? Oare ce o sa creada cand ii gasim pe aia?

Desi era very little chance(Sighisoara..festival..ziua de sambata), i-am gasit intr-un sfarsit la o terasa, lesinati de caldura si bere…nu mi-a mai pasat de nimik..nu am vrut nici scaun. M-am asezat langa ei pe rucsac si am zis: Io nu mai plec de aici!…Intr-un sfrasit..tata si cu frati-miu au luat masina si au plecat..cauz there was no way of convincing me..si cred ca lu’ tata sincer ii ea frika, ca daca se cearta cu mine o iau la fuga pe acolo si in veci nu mai da de mine.

Dupa ce am vazut cu ochii mei masina ruland spre iesirea din oras am mai stat juma de ora ca sa realizez the kind of revolution I’ve made…and it was realy awesome….the feeling u have when u succeed in a gentle, elegant,  manner. Cand mi-am dat seama ca in sfarsit sunt de capul meu..singura, on my own, cu banii mei (dati de el) in buzunar..m-am infipt in primul stand de bere…for that night..there was no way back….to my former, simple, ever-so-adequate life.

Spre seara..un baiat a venit la mine si m-a intrebat: Nu te supara..nu ai sa imi schimbi o suta intr-o mie? M-am uitat bine la el si am vazut ochii cei mai frumosi din viata mea. I-am luat suta, nu i-am dat nimik inapoi, si doua ore mai tarziu stateam pe strada de mana….aplicand impreuna replika la trecatori. Dimineata, pe la 7, alergam pe scena din Piata Cetatii si ne ascundeam dupa decoruri, improvizam replici si jucam teatru…

Dupa-amiaza am luat acceleratul spre Sinaia fara nici un numar de telefon in buzunar, nu stiam nici macar cum il cheama.

Un an mai tarziu, de festival…l-am reintalnit, pe aceeasi strada. Dupa 5 minute m-am dus la el si l-am intrebat: Nu te supara..nu ai sa imi schimbi o suta intr-o mie? Dupa doua zile ne-am urcat impreuna in accelerat spre Cj, de data asta cu adrese reale, adrese de mail si cu numere de telefon….Dupa 6 ani de zile..este prietenul meu John de la Suceava…we keep track, write letters, exchange gifts sometimes, talk on IM daily…he is my bookmark for one of the best times in my life…and also..the proof that it was real.

Am o atitudine spasita, plina de respect fata de tot ceea ce a fost inedit in viatza.

It dosen’t have to be close to the edge in order to feel miraculous..sometimes a well blended cocktail of the proper age, the right people, the perfect background and..perhaps, but not necessarily, a drop of alcohol..can do it all for u. If u are lucky enough, u take pictures; if u are incredibly lucky, u keep bookmarks….anyway, rehearsal is not an option…and that’s what keeps memories sacred.

Walkin’ on broken glass

July 9th, 2006

“There’s times where I want something more
Someone more like me
There’s times when this dress rehearsal
Seems incomplete” 
 

 

Voi scoate de la classified& strictly confidential dosare prafuite din ultimii 5 ani de zile…dosare facute ferfelitza, cu coperti roshiii ca sangele..le voi adulmeca, le voi deschide si voi arunca o privire fascinata de-alungul paginilor scrijelite..

No threat..o sa fie doar un discurs superfluu..muzical aproape..

Am vb in ultimele 3 zile cu 3 preteni(preteni si cunostinte pretenesti-barbati) despre relatii: despre posibilitate, despre calitate, despre sansa, despre expectantza…pure theory as in almost mathematical conclusive outcomes…fuckin’ shit!

I used to be the gambling women-kiddo type…nu m-am gandit niciodata, cand am atins prima oara cu mana mana celuilalt, la ce va sa fie. Nu am facut proiectii bazate pe statistica, nu am desenat linii, vectori, nu am rupt nuante din curcudeu..totul mergea cool..de pe-un telefon pe altul…pana la niste minime chestii care se subintelegeau cu vremea, chestii de genul: my favourite cigarettes, barul in care ne intalnim, my kind of music, my own obsessions & his- the spaces that are not to be intereffered with, no matter what…

Evident….relatiile fun & crazy dau chix…nu e o problema de formula ceea ce le taraste catre mormant ci ipocrizia care zace in toata faza cu fun&crazy.

Fun&crazy is like: “I’m fun, u are crazy” or “u are fun, I am crazy” or “we are crazy..and that’s fun”.. Funny thing…it can’t be funny-crazy till the end,…the crazyness runs out of fun into pure crazyness..and that’s a dead point.

We thought of each-other as being fun & crazy..and now..I find out that u can’t tell in so many words what’s going on in my head right now, as I am quietly, disrcreetly thinking about twisting ur arm or brakin’ ur neck…

Fun&crazy is tragic in no time…, fun& crazy dosen’t last for ever, fun& crazy e ca un raspuns la o intrebare retorica: We’ll stick to that,k?…

Mi-am luat o pauza de la genul asta de relatii in momentul in care imi dadeam seama ca oricat m-as bucura sau smiorcai intr-o zi de vara/iarna..e inutil…They are always just a scratch on the surface..the kind of surface that u tend to change over the seasons….

Mi-am dat seama ca sunt o ipocrita in momentul in care erau deja prea multi dintre oamenii cu care mi-am petrecut ultimii 4 ani de zile pe care abia daca ii mai salutam pe strada…nu prea aveam ce sa ne spunem…besides the Fun and the Crazy, besides the summer sun, the smoked bars during the winter, beisdes the alcohol rushing through our blood, besides tones of music and slippery nights..there was really nothing much to it….it’s just the feeling that u have waking up in the morning after a night of hard partying, when u look at urself in the mirror and find urself with an almost transparent conscience, as empty as a an empty glass…

And nowadays..switching sides and swithching plans I find myself wanting more..wanting quiet mornings with clean kitchens, empty ashtreys, open windows…I want a dog to walk in the park every morning, I want to find the same face when I come home, to smell the coffee…to enter, not just exit clubs holding hands…for once in my life…

And now…going back to No Doubt…yeah..I guess I want someone to give me “the most gorgeous sleep that I’ve ever had”….and someone to “look right through and underneath” and “to make me better”…

Why the ‘ broken glass’ u tell me? I tell u back: at times like these u realise that all the past tences in ur life were quite similar to simple pieces of glass, simple glass as in a square surface that u watched through from one side..but u could also, quite clearly, see the the other side as in ‘ where this is going’ or ‘the end’…Evidently, from time to time, u’d get tired of sitting and watching and not being able to move forward…cause the glass, still transparent, would be solid…so u’d pick it up and smash it to the ground, moving on forward, stepping on it, with boots or soft shoes..no matter what….So I guess, comparing to plain glass, everyone must be wishing for a mirror to be holding hands with, a mirror cauz it reflects and cauz it’s to precious to brake, and i’ve heard brakin’ it brings bad luck…

(all lyrics…No Doubt, Underneath it all 

School harassment equals guilt

July 2nd, 2006

For some days now I’ve totally turned myself into a hallow…i’m way passed over the edge in what concerns self-preservation..I’ve got simply no idea what incredible charitable force could reach out and grab me from this shitty situation. I’m all sucked up of power, energy, identity,..all the simple stuff that used to make me human look-alike.

I cannot stand lookin in the mirror..cauz ..i know..I look like shit, haven’t washed my hair for 5 days now..it’s incredible I brush my teeth in the morning..though I know, that’s simply no excuse for still believing I ‘m human..it’s just pure mechanics.

I can’t think straight cauz I haven’t slept right since.uh..see.. not thinking..can’t remember..I stay up all night, pretending to study, though my mind is totally blank, I can’t master anymore my basic functions, such as pressing the rec button and ffwd and..Gosh! I wish I could do that.

Don’t know how much more black coffee could I pour in myself in order to become a dark soldier on the field of memory..seems my army is already coffee resistant

I wish I could be at least delirious..like u know- instead of pressing rec and ffwd, I could just press play and listen to some silly joyful music like a neuron tap or something…evidently, with the interference of some grotesque gothic sounds like the voice of conscience which would be like a Marlyn Manson monologue double roleplayed, in turns, by my mom and my pop..and then..at the end..I wish for a tiny little sound..like a cricket or somethin’ and that’s it..I can can climb up my window and jump in peace….

In the most weird of available ways..I guess some guys from the airport in Cluj read my mind too damn quickly cauz two days ago thy sent an insect look alike plane, all rumbling and all, surveilling over the city, like only 4 meters high above the small blocks and two meters below the highest….damn u stupid people…haven’t u heard of false suicide..that’s what I want..not the real stuff! Don’t u ever pull that 9/11 crap trick on me again!

British reminder…untill autumn

June 29th, 2006

Prietenilor le e mila de mine si imi spun sa ma culc..stiu..cand trei oameni iti zik ca esti beat..u probabbly should…but the lights in my head keep me up every single night of the week…

Azi am facut o decoperire inedita.The Arctic Monkeys…(courtesy of one of the Pid Jin/ Fredo masters- TheTudor)…..uh boy, love this band till now…British punk in a very trainspotish way…

 

5 facts I love ’bout Britain:

- clowdy skies which melt down on red roofs, u can imagine people trembling in their houses and hugging under coloured blankies just because of the cold

- rainy nights &full pubs..evidently..that joyfull spirit that beats the hell out’a the weather

- awfully white skined people which seem to me very natural, not bronze-assisted by any flaming mechanisms, I love their simple clean cut intelectually sophisticated style…

- their misery which still looks like pretty clean to me..they do not own real dirt..perhaps it’s the climate..but i can hardly imagine decomposing garbage in Britain; i love that when they wanna show some dirty suburbs they always end up praising their social-misery….more of corrupted people than corrupted backgrounds

- finally..i love their accent, it’s a die for…

I wanna marry some Romanian red-headed crazy drug addict punk-English man wannabe….or the real stuff….; wouldn’t mind some 80 year old hunted castle owner with a big library either…but first i gotta have a chance to pick :)

For all u Brit-pop-punk lovers out there: http://www.arctic-monkeys.com/

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