The Psychedelic Express

inside of the Brain Attack

2011-01-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

I had a funny walk in a cave las night. The most peculiar architecture ; solid as a citadel yet voluptuous as the houses of mermen. But something wasn't right : it's walls were in fact made of little moving starshaped bricks and it's roof was wavy as a work of Gaudi. I even found myself treading on a thin red snake and when I looked up I realised the snakes were everywhere, In the strangest fashion, one of the creeping reptiles was pulsating insanely. I tell you gentlemen, it was rather intriguing to see how that bizzare entity blew up flooding the entire ballroom with blood. Then it hit me: I was inside of a brain, caught in a huge , grimey muscle and surrounded by cells . I had gone further than every scientist dream, every philosopher, and every shaman. I felt young again, powerful ,able to contol the inner workings of the most misterious territory of life.

Alas, like all irrefutably beautiful dreams it was gone ; it was like the Middle ages, underground, sunk in darkness and I swear I could hear plagues riding vermins around me. I had to get out of the brain, of the corpse and of the tomb, so I pierced through his eyes with the help of my sharp umbrella, and then through the coffin and the concrete with my bare hands. You know the rest of the story; as soon as I got home , I summoned you all in the grand room of this laboratory , radey to reveal humanity to itself.

'Oh , dear! I though that concussion wasn't that serious , Lawrence, but I'm afraid you need professional help!'

'I am perfectly fine. I was in a dead guys brain last night!'

'Everyone calm down.... Lawrence next time at least make up a funny story ... who has ever heard of walking in a brain...what nonsense!'

The professors and scientists in their white clothes clapped uniformly and smiled in disapproval. Meanwhile , Lawrence was breathing with difficulty, sweating while a vein on his forehead was pulsating insanely...

This is the new shit.

2010-09-29T12:38:00.000-07:00

De la desfrau la ocultism, de la infractiuni la propaganda politica, de la inselat la arta...da, pot spune ca am facut destul de multe si ca toate Eu-urile mele exista chiar si in momentul de fata. Am facut mult rau, m-am jucat cu multe minti, am ajutat multi oameni, am scris si am citit aiurea. In apararea mea, pot spune doar ca am avut un motiv bun pentru tot ce am facut pana acum, ceea ce imi da si multumirea de a nu avea regrete. Nu voi mai scrie pe blogul acesta din diverse motive, nu il voi sterge. Dati-mi timp si va voi arata altceva. O chestie noua si de calitate. Multumesc criticilor!

Plictisealaaaaa

2010-09-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

Inca astept sa ma surprinda cineva cu o idee , cu o gluma. Cineva original, pentru care inertia sa fie doar un cuvant din fizica de liceu. Stii, de fapt vreau sa rad si sa ma distrez, sa comunic , sa urlu sa scriu, sa beau vin rosu. Vreau sa fie bine. Inca astept. Haide !!!!!!!!!

God .SWOT Analysis.

2010-05-17T09:03:00.001-07:00

Strong Points : Morning, Captain Obvious. HE IS GOD. He invented the world which is prolly the most original way to display power. He's a fine commander with armies of blind creatures by his side, and is reffered to as the superlative itself. He can kill, forbidd, give birth, destroy withot any objection. As a fierce dictator, anyone who has the nerve to oppose his authority dies. In fact, it doesn't even matter , cause we all die . He can deceive like no other, giving his little androids the false impression of autonomy, always cutting the dead ends of his garden.
Weak Points: HE IS GOD. If he doesn't exist, or he has a different name than we have to admit that life is a big fat bad joke.
Opportunities: HE IS GOD.He's got more than a "world of opportunities", since he doesn't have a rival, and no one knows what his next move is going to be. Did i mention that the idea of evil is as present in his nature as the idea of good? There is no Satan. There is no loving Father. There is just an immense will that carries us away.
Threats: Hello?! HE IS GOD and he wants to let me know that if I dare to post this, I shall be drowning in my own shit. GOD is not amused and he does not approve this message ... so now I have just turned all of you into sinners and you all lost the game.

Dumnezeu este un dictator...

2010-05-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

...cu mult mai rau decat Hitler. El l-a inventat pe Hitler si l-a folosit ca sa arate lumii o farama de rau. Dumnezeu l-a inselat pana si pe cei mai rai , perversi oameni, pentru ca mai apoi sa poata juca rolul unui erou salvator, preferand sa fie un axis al unei lumi eminamente in decadere.
Dumnezeu e un copil batran care se joaca cu papusi de carpa ,

DADA.

2010-05-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

Parfumul se ascunde prin colturi
Ca un mecanism sensibil, fictional
Doar e un manifest ironic, mult mai acid.
Ca nu in centrul vorbei goale
Se ascunde Poezia cu cinci glume proaste.
E o literatura ludica dar cam necoapta
Citita si de coafeze si de noi
Ca o lista buna de optiuni proaste.

***

Ghandi priveste inmarmurit
Un nostradamus verde si sticlos
Galopand si pufaind ca un nebun
Din tigara pe care ti-am oferit-o ieri.
De dragul cailor vernil din ochii tai
Taie-ti radacinile osoase din parchetul cojit.

***

Am cazut in cana ta de cafea alaltaieri.
si de atunci ratacesc pe drumuri de zat
si poduri de zahar
cautandu-te pe tine sau paote pe mine cea de ieri.
As vrea sa desenez in tonuri de cafea rece
Un sarut infam
Pentru buza ta sau pentru buza canii.

Manque d'inspiration.

2010-05-11T12:28:00.000-07:00

Masa mica , sculptata, din mahon inca mai purta farmecul unei epoci mai tinere si pe ea zaceau cateva carti botite si galbene ca boala: Lolita lui Nabokov, Principele lui Machiavelli , Swann si Critica ratiuni pure. Gramofonul batran, lucios si ridat , umplea aerul de dimineata cu acordurile unui cantecel francez tres en vogue in anii '20, iar mirosul de cafea arsa si rasnita navalise in odaie ca o dara de parfum fin. Ea statea pe canapeaua kitsch cu tapiseria florala roasa de dintii vremii si marginea aurie cojita pe la colturi , pe jumatate adormita ,inca imbracata in sari-ul roz pal de la petrecerea cu tema indiana de aseara. Fasia de matase , imprimata cu o puzderie de buddha mici , lunga de 6 metri era prinsa cu o brosa cu ametiste negre, dezgolindu-i umerii palizi . Parul ei lung, roscat , era despletit si contrasta frumos cu lumina de culoarea mierii , diluata de draperiile lungi , japoneze. O sonerie surda anunta un musafir din cale-afara de matinal, iar ea se ridica cam greoi si prinzandu-si parul cu o agrafa mare, argintie , se intrepta spre usa lacuita din lemn de nuc. In prag statea un tanar inalt , cu o barbie cam ascutita , cu ochi de culoarea ploii care purta un trench camel lung, dupa moda londoneza. Nu era nici un boem in Paris care sa nu se dea in vant dupa modelul acela de overcoat , si ea ghici pe loc ca tipul era un filfizon, un pretins intelectual englez pasionat de teribilele replici ale lui Sartre .

-Mmelle. Dumas?

- Oui , c'est moi...

-Probabil vizita mea va surprinde peste masura .

-Intradevar , zise ea , enervata de ora nepotrivita. Nu cred c-am avut placerea...

-O, ba da , Mmelle.Ne-am cunoscut exact acum 3 ani in Calcutta, la receptia maharajahului...

-Monsieur , je suis desolee, dar nu-mi amintesc sa va fi vazut printre toti acei oameni. Poate ca era de vina caldura torida sau poate sampania...Da, sunt teribil de distrata cand beau sampanie...zambi ea.

El isi aminti pe loc imaginea ei , cocotata pe un perna cu ciucuri lungi in gradina maharajahului , cu o rochie din matase verde si cu pistrui pe pometi, fermecatoare cu un pahar delicat plin cu un lichid auriu.

-Totusi eu imi amintesc tare bine de dvs, ceea ce ma aduce la motivul vizitei mele.

I'll be...

2010-04-21T09:19:00.001-07:00

Better when I'm older. I'll love more, i'll love the people who deserve my love, i'll love beautiful, brilliant , original people. In every way possible, from the bottom of my heart. And i'll finally be honest with myself and admit that I made mistakes, I was swept away by the fascination of a face, without really looking deeply. This post goes to each person I ever loved.I'm really sorry for everything, i'm sorry for affecting your life , for ever being a turning point in your life. You are, all of you, really amazing people even if i might have said the opposite and I really wish you the best possible life.
As for me, I finally found the right moment to move on . I needed closure, and I must say I'm a mess when it comes to beautiful good bye's . All I can do is to be sincere at last and confess that you might not know it , but each and everyone of you taught me something and , in a very twisted way, all of you will always be part of me. Thank you!

New life, new playlist.

2010-04-18T11:47:00.000-07:00

Outta my comfort zone, there's a whole world of possibilities....So, here's the drill:
The Smiths
The replacements
Buena Vista Social Club
Rage against the machine
the Dandy Warhols
Buckcherry
Iron& wine
Radio Moscow
Block party
Rock plaza central
white stripes
Wilco
Okkervil River

These are the novelties... amazingly talented people that inspired me to change. Thanks.

Like a drug lord...

2010-04-16T11:38:00.000-07:00

Orice gest parea inutil...Mintea ei captura fiecare zvacnire, fiecare tresarire,fiecare atingere....si o resimtea visceral, din plin, ca pe o durere adanca,dar, in mod bizar necesara. Chiar si o gura de oxigen poluat.....deschidea in creierul ei viu perspectiva unui ritual;un ritual cu iz cubanez,cu un cer rosu ca sangele, o luna plina ca un sarut adevarat,si un hamac impletit de o pereche de maini bronzate. Ea isi dadea seama prea bine ca placerea pura e mai valoroasa decat banala fericire; caci lucrurile care dureaza putin....sunt cu mult mai apte sa trezeasca emotii noi, senzatii de nedescris.Nu-i lipsea coerenta, iar panoplia ei umana...era decorata cu insusirile omului superior. Era frumoasa in gesturi, in priviri, intr-un zambet. Si vedea lumea intr-un mod aparte, ca un dumnezeu minor,si asta o facea cu adevarat fascinanta. Era o hedonista, care isi gsise fericirea in relativitatea vietii. Parea ca poate supune o lume intreaga sa se conformeze gandurilor ei nebune, acute; dar nu o facea,caci cinismul ei o impiedica. Fata asta ar fi putut scrie lumea intr-un cuvant, dar nu o facea...caci si-ar fi irosit geniul ....printr-un proces subliminal de daruire completa. Lumea nu o putea pricepe,si nici macar nu-si dadea osteneala.Lumea nu o placea, pentru ca era prea mult adevar pe buzele ei.

Setting fire to sleeping giants.

2010-04-15T04:20:00.001-07:00

That's what it feels like, when you do everything you can to distort reality in their minds, to manipulate their brains: you create little monsters with huge egos. You pull their strings for a while ,but there comes the unavoidable point when they bite the hand of their creators...and start a revolution, calling themselves prophets, leaders, killing machines. But, we do enjoy to play this game , to turn the tables in our favour whenever we find a way, to switch roles and statuses. Jumping to conclusions , all I can say is that:
-There is no real friendship...and all the preachers of this belief are phonies
-Hedonism is the only way to be myself;also being cynical isn't bad at all
-People change; never for the better
-I prefer loneliness to denying my true nature
-No matter how well you plan your stroke , in order to get something, you have lose something. In this respect, I feel like I finally made the right choice.
-A superior man is always followed by loneliness and a rusty halo and at one point or another he can't hide his intellect, his irony and his true colours
-The real choice is :accepting the damned superior condition or giving it up for a mediocre "happiness" ; I believe my decision is obvious enough.
Basically , that's the drill....no appologies, no regrets, no looking back. If being detached, refined and intelligent makes one look evil in their eyes ...then it's the rest of the world itself that's giving birth to an anti-icon. Thanks.

2010-04-14T12:02:00.001-07:00

Lately, I've been developping the profile of the perfect bastard, a man whose traits are split into a variety of handwritings and thoughts. He is a byproduct of all the refined villains and not-so villains that I had the pleasure to meet, and it is hightime that someone created him. Beautiful and decadent like Dorian Grey, cynical like Lord Harry Wotton , obsessive like Humbert Humbert, nihilist like Holden Caulfield, armed with the black humour of the Joker and the words of Iago, refined like Rhett Butler . A hedonist, a nihilist, an anarchist; a walking contradiction. A man that can never be part of the world , but just float a few cm above the earth, with a sarcastic smile in the corner of his senusal mouth. A man who gave up his soul , a scared demon, a scary angel. So, who can invent this man? I'd write him , but my ink is too pale and my paper isn't white enough...There are moments when I look on evil simply as a mode through which I can realise my conception of the beautiful.

To R.

2010-04-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

Dude...you really don't get rock and roll, do you? You're desperately holding on to some obvious standards ,while missing the point of the entire deal. You're listening to Aerosmith, the Stones or Zeppelin when you're driving and you feel like you own the world...but you defy your own purpose, dear. Call me when you realise you're not a rockstar.Come back to me after you've tried all your narrow fantasies, and i 'll slap you and give you the world . In a nutshell. Honey, I 'don't need/want you. My purposes go way deeper than that; yet it's so fun to watch you trying to be something you're not.

2010-03-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

De vreo cateva zile incoace ma tot cert cu Richard Bach . De vreo cateva epoci incoace stau la o masa de lemn pe o banca de lemn intr-o incapere din lemn, cu parchetul umflat, lacul cojit , o lumina moarta si grea . Astept ceva. Astept o sclipire in ochii cuiva, astept o idee. Dar ea nu mai apare. E o lume cel putin bizara, peticita cu glume proste si cioburi verzui, cu un aer desuet, in care consumatorul refuza sa devina un producator. Si ceea ce ma doare cel mai tare e ca eu sunt consumatorul. Azi , intre 2 beri, am fondat si o religie; atat de ticaloasa mi-e mintea. Si am facut un infern utopic, mai ceva decat cel biblic, in care mi-a pus cateva carti de Poe, Wilde si Byron, o luna mare cat viata si un balcon darmat; acolo mi-am facut casa. Si pentru ca si eu am nevoie de o ascunzatoare din cand in cand, am mai facut si-un paradis ... in care i-am asezat pe toti : sfinti si pacatosi , oamenii care sunt cu mult mai buni decat mine, oamenii cu adevarat spirituali, oamenii care nu ma inteleg si cei carora pur si simplu nu le pasa. Adica tot restul lumii. Si cu un colt de mamut am fixat in centrul pamantului o foaie ingalbenita . Acolo mi-am scris crezul.

INFERNUL E O UTOPIE. UTOPIA E UN INFERN. DAR OAMENII NU SUNT NICI UTOPIE NICI INFERN, CI IDEI RECICLATE CU IZ DE MOCIRLA.

The real question...

2010-03-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

...is to have a bulletproof vanity or to do the right thing? So what's more moral to do? To stay true to your principles or to your apparent feelings. To be a fascinating bastard , like Lord Byron or to just lay back and hope for the best? At which point expectations are no longer in order and how much should you hold on to your "heart"? I never knew how to be a righteous human being , a good Christian or God forbidd , a good girlfriend. I think I have been a nihilist long before I knew what the term really meant. But recently , it occured to me that even I can change and make someone happy ... ; needless to say I'm no good at that, but does it count that I'm trying to change my old ways?

Empire state of mind.

2010-03-21T12:25:00.000-07:00

There are two kinds of people. The ones that divide people and those who don't. As much as I like the social butterfly-type of person, I''m becoming a sociopath, a paranoid and dull being. Just like everyone around me. Loneliness and boredom follow me around like plague along with a thick layer of low taste romance. And so I stopped reading my horoscope, threw my platonic relationships out the window, killed my time with funny roadtrips. And I drank like crazy and those little devils ( aka my thoughts) make me sound terribly neurotic. So yeah, I crave freedom, self-sufficiency and time. If I had had more time, i would have acted like a better, smarter, cooler person. I would have lifted my hands in the spring air and shouted till my lungs would have fallen out. I want another start, another lovestory, another page of history. One in which time and space are under my command.

The Kalashnikov Girl

2010-03-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

I am prone to faith's stupidity and I can be absolutely sure that epic fail is too small of a phrase to describe what's been happening. And then there's the fucking paradox that forces me to desire and obtain something with the intensity from hell and afterwards to realize that I should've aimed higher.Or closer. To be blunt, my very selfish and sarcastic self was chained in the most absurd way possible. Well, on a lighter note , my consciousness is doing quite alright, still as morally correct as Christians , still vicious like the devil himself, still ironic like a straight version of Oscar Wilde. Thank God, thank Blizzard, thank Led Zeppelin I'm still the jerk you love to hate. That being said , this is what I've been listening to lately:

Goran Bregovic- Kalashnikov
Alice Cooper - Poison
AC DC -Thunderstruck
AC DC- You shook me all night long
Lenny Kravitz- Are you gonna go my way
Led Zeppelin- Baby I'm gonna leave you
Billy Joel- Scenes from an italian restaurant
Jeff Buckley- Hallelujah
Soho Dolls -Bang bang bang bang
Burial -Gutted
Joker -Purple City
Jimi hendrix- Bold as love
Jimi Hendrix- Castles made of sand
Coconut records- Easy girl
deep purple -Child in time
Tracy Chapman-Talking 'bout a revolution
Led Zeppelin- Gallows Pole
Michael and Slash- give in to me
Oasis- Champagne supernova
Massive attack-angel
Pete Doherty- last of the english roses
Rammstein- te quiero puta
Rolling stones- Sympathy for the devil

The Black List - fetishes, likes and more

2010-02-08T12:37:00.000-08:00

Poison -Alice Cooper
Lord Byron
Led Zeppelin
Vicious and Barett
Indian jungle
British accent
Hermes eau dórange vert pour homme
Club Punk in Soho
Black leather
London
The Clash
Pete Doherty
Dirty Diana
Vienna by Billy Joel
Dubstep
LSD
Deep, bloody red
Writing poetry rather than prose
Countless tequila shots
Forests
Jimi Hendrix
Long red hair
Pale skin
Out getting ribs or any other bones
The Joker
Chain smoking
The "You have to admit that I'm better looking than Pete Doherty " line
Climbing a 2 m wall to get into a closed park
Pure rock
Slightly out of tune vocals

Bold as love

2009-12-10T11:29:00.000-08:00

The sky had a hideous mouth with silver fangs vomiting darkness in the horizon. The angels must have had too many tequilla shots at the nearby bar ; guess it was a happy hour. When a shooting star hit the ground ,the earth began to shake like crazy and billions of fists rose and almost touched the sky. They were clenching , moving , hitting, and screaming . Having a star among them was a blasphemy, as their sins were no longer pure. Hatred took Love's hand and toghether they went towards the sunset on a Harley Davidson.

Highway Chile

2009-11-29T10:21:00.000-08:00

The highway was lost in dust and the weeds were struggling to get the man's attention . They were nasty , devilish creatures with rusty metal edges that had eaten the ground. On the smoked battelfield you could only see the burnt corpses of small rats and worms . The dry face of the general was filled with victory smile and the good ol'd machine gun was tired . It had had a long life , and the only thing to contemplate now was little time left before it would be thrown in the pile of junk, right next to his master's collection of animal eyes. It was a matter of vanity, of course. The leader of the weeds liked to measure the number of victims , just to keep evidence of such things. Rats were the favourite pray. Big enough to be a challenge to brag with, but easy to kill .Their corpses were like rolling stones when they were thrown in the nearby river. The weeds knew no failure ; they were the highway itself . The weeds were above good and bad , above sins and vices ; they were a embodying the primitive sense of justice ,that was lost when babylon fell. The pile of eyes was evergrowing, and it soon reached the sky . The weeds never tried to climb the Victory montain, because treading on the small , juicy, white globes was seen as impure. Only the general had the right to go up in the bluish skies and chat with God. The creatures knew no law other than : All weeds are equal , but some are more equal than others.

Last 17 year old

2009-11-09T12:14:00.001-08:00

1. Mi se zice cel putin o data pe zi ca-s ciudata.
2. Eu nu prea ii ascult pe ceilalti.
3 . Dau sfaturi excelente.
4. Sunt incapabila sa le urmez.
5. Am invatat rusa , pentru ca -mi place de Lenin.
6 . Ma fascineaza Pol Pot.
7. Si Charles Manson.
8. Raspoimaine fac 18 ani.
9. Desenez chiar bine.
10. Weirdly enough, cant si mai bine.
11 . Sunt si voi fi mereu a jerk.
12. Voi muri la 82 de ani , din cauza unei supradoze.
13. Il venerez pe Bob Dylan.
14. Tortul meu de la majorat va fi in forma de Fender.
15.Mai am aproximativ 9 luni de stat in Romania.
16. In viata mea au existat 3 tipi care mi-au modificat existenta radical.
17. Dorinta de ziua mea, aia pt cand suflu in tort.

In curand totul va - face- sens. Sper...

2009-11-03T12:37:00.000-08:00

Draga omule,

Ce frumos ti-ai facut tu legea-n lume

Ai imblanzit focul si-ale marii spume

Cum te-ai facut tu soare palid din pamant

Zeu intre viermi si vierme-n toate care sunt!

Cat te multi au fost cei care te-au inventat

Cu barbile lor lungi si scrisul apasat

N-a mostenit lumea asta desueta

O bruma de geniu intr-o eprubeta.

Animal de povara , poleit si chior

Tragi la jugul tau , ciung si fara d-un picior

Si uiti usor anii ce nu se mai intorc

Cand asezi coroana pe capul uni porc.

fade to black

2009-10-31T13:06:00.000-07:00

Cea mai comoda senzatie este atunci cand devii invizibil. Frustrarea si esecul iti devin amanti , iar sticla de bere e cea mai buna prietena. Ce te impiedica sa palesti din peisaj, si sa fii doar o umbra? Ma simt aproape ca o fiinta umana atunci cand, in ochii celorlalti nu exist . Beau si fumez , ascult muzica si traiesc. De ce va luati de existenta mea acum , cand nu va deranjez cu nimic , prin fericirea mea slab alcoolizata, si visele mele de doi bani? Si palesc si mi-e bine si metallica e langa mine. Vedeti-va de treaba. Mi-e de ajuns sa supravietuiesc. Nu am nevoie de fanteziile voastre minunate , caci imi traiesc povestea chiar acum. Si tarantula..........

Haze.

2009-10-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

Am cunoscut o data un om nemaipomenit. Un om adevarat cu triumfurile si viciile lui. Un om care mi-a schimbat viata. Este ciudat ca omul asta apare in blogul meu abia acum , la aproape doi ani dupa moartea sa si ca nu are un nume.

Prima oara cand l-am auzit vorbind a fost prima oara cand mi-am dat seama ca nu stiu absolut nimic. Teoriile lui erau iesite din comun, nu atat prin continutul lor ( care era , de cele mai multe ori, intr-o permanenta opozitie cu demersul firesc al vietii) , cat prin gesturile ce le insoteau.Erau cuvinte simple si o tigare in coltul gurii, idei pentru care in evul mediu ar fi fost ars pe rug si suvoaie fragile de fum, o explicatie si o descretire de frunte. Si poate lucrul ce m-a atras mereu a fost puterea sa de a ma manipula , pastrandu-mi impresia de autonomie. Langa el visam in dementa , in tonuri de SF. De la el am invatat grandomania , sarcasmul ce frizeaza cinismul dar indulcit de umorul subtil.

Pe acest om nu l-am iubit. Nici nu cred ca l-am cunoscut prea bine. In schimb l-am venerat , l-am lasat sa faca din mine persoana care sunt azi si pentru asta ii voi fi vesnic recunoscatoare. As vrea sa am si eu curajul sa sfidez viata, depententa si grotescul asa cum a facut-o el. Simplu, genial, intr-o aura de fum.

Highway 61 Revisited.

2009-10-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

Isi mai aprinse o tigare de foi. Ritualul era acelasi : tragea fumul parfumat in piept , tusea scurt , si apoi se tolanea langa ea, intre cearsafurile taioase ca sticla. Ii facea o deosebita placere, poate singura placere , pe langa fumat, sa o priveasca dormind, cand pieptul ii tresalta , purtand povara respiratiei, cand genele lungi si negre ii mangaiau cearcanele abia perceptibile, cand parul lung ii acoperea gatul si umerii. Pentru un nevrotic ca el, ea era ca o oaza de normalitate , de frumusete inocenta. Lui ii placea singuratatea,si obisnuia sa -si caute fericirea pe fundul sticlelor de bourbon, in tutunul de proasta calitate si in vinilurile uzate. In noptile lungi de toamna , cand nu-si gasea defel somnul, isi ingropa capul in perna si privea o luna rotunda si verzuie prin fereastra inchisa. Se gandea in acel ragaz ba la vreo melodie ce-i suna obsesiv in cap , ba la hartia igienica roz din bodega in care-si irosea serile, dar cateodata se minuna profund de norocul ce daduse peste un ratat ca el , un boschetar,un artist, un boem. Stia ca nu o merita, ba chiar il speria ideea de a-si imparti patul si singuratea cu o fata ca ea. Il batea gandul ca viseaza , dar era suficient sa se intoarca si s-o vada acolo, adormita si visatoare , cu buzele inrosite de saruturile lui.

Here we go again.

2009-10-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

Mi-e scarba de blogul asta pentru ca este strict o "creatie" teribilista. Contine numai ganduri mici puse in cuvinte mult prea mari. Acum ca stilul meu de a scrie a devenit ceva mai matur, ma pot autocritica intr-o maniera cat de cat realista. As minti , desigur, daca as zice ca blogul a fost in van, pentru ca a tinut locul unui scrapbook. Totusi, acesta este un post menit sa asigure o bruma de finalitate a unei mici ere. Nu , nu voi sterge blogul si nici nu voi deschide unul nou, pentru ca sunt o fiinta mult prea lenesa. Voi scrie mai putin, si totusi mai mult. Mai simplu si totusi mai complex. Ma voi scrie cum pot eu mai bine . Cheers!

Psychedelia.

2009-09-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

Am imbinat tot ce ma omoara , drog alcool si tigara ; sunt vie . Si asa se naruie inca o speranta, speranta ca va veni momentul in care pot aluneca fara regret pe panta psihedelicului pana intr-o depresiune scobita de gazul acela otravitor. Mintea mi-e vraiste, sparta in mii de cioburi de energie ratata , mii de neuroni esuati, mii de iluzii sfaramate. Vreau sa adorm, sa am cel mai revelator vis din viata mea si sa nu se mai sfarseasca. Sa mor visand si sa ma visez murind. Tot ce am vrut erau raspunsurile si acestea nu au sa sarit ca niste broaste sedate in palma mea mica, si n-au inflorit sinuos ca nuferiii puri. M-a dezamagit universul si de aceea il voi ucide . Lama atat de bine ascutita ii va strapunge beregata univerului. Ah, am asteptat prea mult momentul acesta! Momentul in care voi pedepsi soarta cu atata cruzime cu cat m-a tratat si ea. DEgetul meu mijlociu n-a aratat niciodata mai bine. Te urasc din tot sufletul!Mori in pula mea, fir-ai a dracu de tarantula proasta! Nu ma poti atinge!

Despre Kafka si Dali

2009-09-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Mi-ar placea sa sar mereu din spirala in spirala , sa calc pe romburi alb-negre, sa ma inec in culori sau poate ca nu. Sa am o sticluta pe care scrie Kafka si una pe care scrie Dali , sa scurg tot continutul si sa-l inhalez, cu mintea cu ochii cu buzele. Si atunci sa am o panza nuda , perfecta si sa o umplu cu sirurile psihedelice ce mi se perinda in cap. Nu eu imi pierd mintile, ci ceilalti. Raul e in ceilalti, uratul si nu-ul si fascismul social. Eu mi-am facut o bula pe care am umplut-o cu imponderabilitate, o bula aurie ce pulseaza in ritmul respiratiei mele. Acolo am ascuns tot ce este bun sau valoros pentru mine , sus , intangibil si perfectibil, pentru ca nimeni sa nu-mi distruga lumea. Acolo ma pitesc si eu cateodata cand ma spal de rautate, cand imi curat sangele de mizeria umana si creierul de gandirea feminina. Eu si iluziile ce-mi populeaza mintea. Intotdeauna au o vorba buna pentru mine, un zambet sincer si curat, si o gandire sclipitoare ce ma inspira. Ele vorbesc prin mine. Prin ochii mei altcineva vede aceste taste, altcineva le apasa, si transforma muzica in propozitii. Voi credeti ca eu sunt aceea, dar in interiorul meu , multe alte existente isi desfasoara ideile geniale. As vrea sa le ascult mereu ; poate ca le-as semana mai mult. Poate as fi coerenta intr-un mod mai haotic si as scrie literatura si nu mi-as distruge plamanii. Dar eu nu-s facuta sa ascult. Mi-am vandut sufletul muzicii. Iar muzica mi-a dat un spirit. Asta a fost cel mai bun chilipir din viata mea. Daca as mai avea ceva de vandut l-as da pe o gandire masculina. Dar nu mai am, si numai spiritul ramasese in stoc. S-a cascat ceasul si am cazut ca printr-un tunel lung si negru si cand sa m-am oprit la un metru de fundul tare de beton. Si stau. Si nu ma pot misca, nu pot respira. Timpul s-a oprit si oricat mi-ar zabovi privirea pe cadranul de sticla aburita, acele sunt tare incapatanate si nu se misca. Parca am 2 albine ce-mi bazaie in urechi . Dar pot sa cad. Trebuie doar sa-mi doresc suficient de intens si timpul va goni din nou ca un strut pe pastile. Nu vreau sa-mi mai doresc ceva , pentru ca nu mai sunt. Ma sparg in bucati de mine, in cioburi de eu. Ce esti tu, om modern? Nu ma face sa rad! Ai curaj? Pai cum poti sa ai curaj daca numai la vederea proiectiei tale sfaramate iti tremura genunchii? Hai, te provoc sa spargi oglinda pe care o ai in fata ta chiar acum! Nu -ti place, nu? Tu care crezi ca le stii pe toate iti prevezi disparitia de pe acest pamant ....cam neagra perspectiva, nu? Taci din gura...esti doar un om. Ai simturi iar el are geniu. Cum care el? El, Nostradamus verde si galben, ce trage cu pofta dintr-un joint si-ti spune ca o sa mori. Ce mai poti face acum? Da , sparge vinilurile alea, omoara-ti idolii , pedepseste-i ca te-au mintit cu atata nerusinare. Mi-e mila de tine, un inger plat , lipsit de substanta, traind intr-o lume si mai seaca. Solutii? Moartea, pisoias. Doar asa poti sa o iei de la capat cu adevarat . Doar nu consideri moartea ultimul tau camin. Poftim? Cat de naiv esti! Nu stii ca abia atunci cand mori incepi sa traiesti? Tot ce ai facut pe pamant e insasi o transa. Da , de cate ori ai iubit, de cate ori te-ai certat si ai sarit cu gura ta cea mare sa te autoproclami rege ...Totul e o iluzie. Daca te-as minti acum , m-ar trazni un fulger fix in moalele capului. Dumnezeu nu vrea ca tu sa fii fericit , el vrea sa fii. Iar tu esti degeaba. Asa ca n-ai rezolvat nimic. Nu mai face ochii cat cepele si asculta-ma. Acuza-ma ca ti-am spalat creierul . Omoara-ma daca vrei , si tocmai societatea ta de belele perfecte o sa te manance de viu . Ti-ai ridicat un imperiu de carti de joc. Credeai ca o sa reziste ? Nu vezi ca tu cu degetele tale lacome si butucanoase ti-ai distrus castelul? Poate cand o sa vezi asta o sa ma crezi, pentru ca cu fiecare junghi din stomac, cu fiecare respiratie fortata cu fiecare durere de cap, eu iti dau un raspuns, un lucru ce -ti lipseste cu desavarsire din colectia ta de lucruri fade ce sclipesc.

Non -coeherent times.

2009-09-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

Murim . Bem . Ne fumam pielea si ochii si buzele. Ne iubim fara sens. Suntem actorii lalelelor intr-un teatru de provincie . Inhalam prostie si indobitocire. Lamaile si aerul curat ne salveaza de cele mai multe ori. Suntem cam prosti. Nu stim cum sa ne drogam ma ieftin. Cred ca innebunesc. E vorba de precizie. Notez tot ce-mi trece prin cap. Lalele, in pula mea, lalele.Atenuez consecintele. Timpul se dilata. Asta e o chestie desteapta . sau poate ca nu. Mi-a placut petrecerea aia. Bhhhhhaaaaa! Nu , gresesti. Lenin e mai presus de Stalin. Cate voci am in cap. Aurolaci cu cap de peste. Sunt la o seringa distanta de marea mea opera.Chiar o sa postez asta?Miroase a prenandez aici. Sau a limonada San Pellegrino. Nu stiu. Vreau sa pun Light My Fire.Converteste asta in bani. Ce prostie! Oare chiar ma place? Idiosincrazie, baaaaaa!Pupile dilatate.Am avut probleme cu politia.Maxim, coae! Auzi si tu bazaitul? Ce par rosu avea fata aia!Sa adorm cu punga in mana.Da sa-mi pastrez pentru dimineata.De ce e soarele acolo?Iti dai seama cum ar fi pe intuneric...Ce sa fac daca n-am mai multi bani. Cauta in casa ca o sa gasesti.O sa te ascund in imprimanta.Ruptura de diploma.Trebuie sa mai am? O sa-ti para raaaaau! Tarantula nenorocita! Bob dylan. Sun pe sistem . Aud voci. Gata!

On Heroin.

2009-09-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

Gesturile ei erau mecanice, precise, ferme. O facuse de atatea ori, incat intreaga procedura ii era incriptata in fiecare circumvolutiune a creierului. Bucata aceea pura, virgina, alba ca prima ninsoare, o aseza cu tandrete in lingura. Urma apa. Si apoi cu bricheta ei rosie , furata de la maica-sa , isi incepu numarul de magie. Aurul acel alb se topea rapid, se contopea cu apa si se transforma intr-un lichid datator de viata. Oricum ea traia doar atunci cand era drogata. Ii placusera acele dintotdeauna; acele obiecte stranii , de un argintiu rece si ravasitor, un obiect care provoca fie teratologicul, fie extazul. Cand acesta ii strapunse pielea alba si stravezie, ea se infiora in asteptarea primului val de dulce ameteala , de moleseala , vibratia intregii sale fiinte. Seringa fu inundata pentru cateva momente de sangele ei rosu, cutezator, in timp ce degetele ei experimentate manuiau cu dexteritate pistonul seringii. In sfarsit era libera. Timpul se oprise. Ea nu avea cum sa greseasca , prizoniera a propriului creier, intre peretii imaginatiei sale ce friza psihedelicul. Doar asa putea sa nu gandeasca si sa nu simta. Heroina o facea invincibila, fata perfecta care sfideaza banalul si cotidianul. Societatea o respinsese, dar asta nici nu mai conta. Dependenta ei , viciul ei, modul ei de viata scotea la iveala tot ce era mai bun din ea ca scriitoare. Arta ei era damnata, dar stia ca dupa ce va muri, la fatidica varsta de 27 de ani, va primi ovatiile pe care le merita. Da, sufera de o megalomanie ce friza paroxismul, indusa fie de idiosincrazie, fie de orgoliu. Singuratatea nu-i displacea defel; era chiar una din conditiile ce-i asigurau o creativitate debordanta, niste metafore ce depaseau realul. Le va arata ea candva, le va arata ca in final, ea era artista. Dar acum, nu trebuia sa demonstreze nimic. Inca o doza. Inca o pagina mazgalita cu scrisul ei ascutit.

Doar nebunia imi tine companie zilele astea. Nebunia dusa la paroxism, abia perceptibila din exterior. Si tot ea ma impinge catre astfel de reprezentari neverosimile ale eului meu, ipostaze imaginate in fel si chip, ca si cum din creierul meu ar tasni pe acest blog sute de individualitati, de micro-eu , fiecare luand o alta cale. Fata pe care n-am reusit s-o insufletesc in acest post nu exista, desi imi seamana la perfectie. Creierul meu este identic cu al ei , fiecare circumvolutiune, fiecare curba sinuoasa a para -Organului. Cu toate astea , ea va muri la 27 de ani de o supradoza, pe cand eu, cea care a scrijelit-o in linii atat de vagi voi trai vesnic. Bratele ei strapunse de atatea ori de acele blestemate vor flutura pentru o ultima data ca o sfidare adusa sortii, iar apoi pleoapele sale se vor inchide peste ochii mari, cu pupile dilatate. Sa nu va para rau dupa ea. Nu e decat un personaj de hartie, una din fanteziile mele, un apogeu al dependentei si al decadentei. Eu am omorat-o intr-o seara calda de septembrie , intre o tigare si un pahar de vin rosu.

Nu am chef azi.

2009-09-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Stateam de-ampulea pe net cu Man in the Long Black Coat (my friend, mr. Dylan) pe replay si observ ca am ajuns la 99 de posturi pe blog. 99 de cacaturi , de miserupisme fiecare mai pointless decat alta. Ce s-a schimbat? Injur mai mult, beau mai mult, fumez si mai mult. Cred ca scrisul este singura chestie caruia pot sa-i fiu loiala. Relatiile vin si trec , lista de nume creste pe zice trece ( not that this makes me proud:))), sticlele se golesc. Ma gandesc acum, cand stau degeaba si beau pepsi light din sticla d-aia la 2 litri ca imi irosesc cea de-a 100-a postare pentru niste aberatii fara sens. Nu am coerenta in seara asta nici in scris , nici in gandire, nu ca as fi baut mult sau mi-as fi afumat creierii in vama, dar pur si simplu sunt all over the place. Stiu ca e aiurea sa stau toata ziua intr-o crasma ce duhneste a fum si a vodka, sa ascult muzica unor oameni care au crapat inainte de vreme pentru ca erau drogati, sa dau cu pumnul in masa ca sa ma fac auzita in harmalaia de nedescris, si sa mai si vorbesc de comunisti morti sau de criminali in serie pe masura ce se termina berea. Nu e normal, rational si vorba aceea, responsabil din partea mea. Nu ca mi-ar pasa prea mult. La o adica, dupa ce te confrunti prima oara cu politia parca-ti vine un chef d-ala nesimtit sa faci circ si panarama, fara sa te mai gandesti la cine te asculta. Poimaine incep a 12-a. Joy! BAC .Joy! Cat de onorabil am frecat menta vacanta asta si ce noi culmi ale boschetarismului am atins. Parca dezmatul asta de vara a fost o leneveala continua , intrerupta doar de meditatiile criminale la rusa. Noroc ca mai stiu cum sa tin creionul in mana, ca parca vad cum incepeam sa apas niste taste invizibile pe banca. Nu vreau scoala! Vreau sa golesc sticle si pachete in vama, sa-l ascult pe bob dylan, sa stau pe plaja ca soparlele fara sa fac ceva. M-a apucat zilele astea o melancolie profunda , pe care nici berea nu poate s-o stinga asa cum o stingea la inceputul vacantei. Parca si tigarile intrau mai bine, si aberatiile lui Jesus, si ciocolata comunista cu rom. E ceva in aer, care ne-a futut starea aia de spirit nesimtita , tupeul si cheful. Ceva naspa. Marele Cacat. Scoala pulii. Bite me!

Vara si vama.

2009-09-10T13:33:00.000-07:00

E vara . Am terminat cu BAC-ul. Note mediocre , dar suficient de mari ca sa smulga priviri admirative din partea vecinilor, si acordul parintilor mei pentru marea aventura. Eu stau intr-un mic oras si pentru prima oara voi merge simti pe pielea mea briza dulce a marii biciuindu-mi chipul ars de soare, voi bea bere pe vreun colt uitat de plaja cu o balada rock ca muzica de fundal. Abia astept sa ma urc in tren si sa pornesc catre oaza aceea a vesnicii petreceri , ca un microunivers al distractiei, Vama Veche. Am auzit multe despre Vama , atat de multe incat aproape pot sa o vad , sa calc in nisipul fierbinte , sa inot in apa calduta. Abia astept sa urc in tren , si sa lupt pentru un loc. Sa ma cert cu Nasu si sa cad la invoiala pentru o sticla de palinca pe care am furat-o inainte de plecare din rezerva parintilor. Sa nimeresc in compartiment cu un grup vesel care sa bea si sa imparta lichide cu multe grade fara sa se strambe. Sa-mi cante Tudor despre vara , despre, vise, si despre varsta de 18 ani. Sa ajung chiar inainte rasarit, sa-mi azvarl hainele pe plaja adormita si sa alerg in apa, sa ma arunc din tot sufletul, sa simt apa marii si sa mi se para cea mai frumoasa zi a vietii mele. Sa adorm pe plaja pana ce incepe Iris sa cante. Sa fumez tigare de la tigare sub fierbinteala soarelui de iulie. Sa se duca bidon dupa bidon printre riffuri de chitara. Sa primesc acea prima iubire, care sa ma faca sa zbor. Sa-mi cante pe-nserat Angie. Sa-i vad pe legendarii betivi, mai morti decat Lazar. Sa merg la Pirati. Sa ma trag in poza cu un grup de metalisti de treaba. Sa fiu fericita. Si sa ma-ntorc cu un zambet tamp pe fata , un chip imbujorat de iubire, de amintiri si de soarele de vara.

Mania vs Dementia

2009-09-09T12:19:00.000-07:00

Visez mult.Visez aiurea. Visez in dementa. Cateodata , cand dorm seva ce-mi iriga spiritul se cristalizeaza in elemente banale, dar care prin asociere devin extraordinare. Am vise complexe , care de care mai psihologice sau obscure. Daca m-ai putea reduce la ceea ce visez , as fi cea mai inteleapta persoana de pe pamant. Subiectele in jurul carora se contureaza aventurile mele mentale nocturne variaza de la cladiri masive de gheata invadate de fluturi la catacombe, orase subterane bantuite de umbre. Cu toate astea , visele pe care mi le aduc aminte cu cea mai mare precizie , dar si cele care au reusit sa-mi clinteasca neuronii pentru o perioada indelungata sunt cele in care port discutii cu oameni care au decedat. Cumva aceste vise ma dau peste cap, ma inspira , si de fiecare data imi cladesc un nou sistem de credinte.
Eram intr-o gradina insorita, cu flori pe care nu le puteam identifica, dispuse in aranjamente luxuriante, ca o enclava in mijlocul unei ierni geroase . Eram eu si cu gradina intr-o sfera de cristal si afara era zapada iar oameni murdari, zdrentarosi si saraci isi lipeau nasurile inghetate de cristalul ce-mi proteja fantezia. Ei nu puteau nici macar sa vada minunea pe care mi-a fost ingaduit sa o vad, caci tot ceea ce ochii lor, ca niste fante inguste si rautacioase puteau zari era lumina, energie luminoasa si flacara exceptionalului. Si atunci apare el; iar eu raman blocata pentru doar o secunda, caci desi nu aveam constiinta mortii sale, in mintea mea era incriptata durerea , si disperarea, si dorinta de a-l revedea. Si ne apucam sa vorbim despre lume , despre locul acela , ce tasnise din creierul meu ca dintr-un vulcan . Stiam ca este mult prea frumos ca sa pot ramane asa pentru totdeauna, caci anticipam hibrysul , tentatia care m-ar fi aruncat din nou in iaran vesnica, in mijlocul mizeriei, dincolo de zidul curbat usor de sticla. Intrebarea ma chinuia; desi banuiam ca raspunusl m-ar fi costat chiar sederea mea in acel loc paradisiac, nu m-am putut impotrivi omului din mine , care se napustii ca un leu furios asupra prazii. In momentul in care am rostit acele cuvinte atat de simple : "Cum este atunci cand mori?" parca atemporalitatea ma apasa atat de tare incat ma strivea . Am avut impresia ca trecusera universuri intregi pana ce am primit raspunsul: "E ca si cum cazi in gol" , dar fix in momentul in care urechile mele au perceput aceste sapte cuvinte , totul se precipita si am simtit o durere incrdibila de parca mi-ar fi despicat fiecare celula nervoasa. O fractiune de secunda un urias spargea sfera creata de mintea mea ca pe un balon de sapun . Iar eu cadeam in gol. Muream cu incetinitorul.
Decorul se topeste si se reaseaza ca niste caramizi multicolore. Sunt intr-o camera cilindrica si atat de inalta incat nu-i puteam vedea tavanul , de un gri prafuit, acoperit de sute de rafturi usor curbate de greutate. Cufere ornate sau simple, carti vechi si nedeschise de secole, haine vechi si murdare, diverse, obiecte stricate sau amortite dupa multi ani de nefolosinta, toate stateau intr-o perfecta dezordine , eliberate de rolul pentru care fusesera concepute . Trecutul era doar decor , iar timpul se dilata tot mai mult pana cand se opri de tot. Era ca si cand toate acele lucruri adunate de prin lume , dovezi ale istoriei, cuprindeau trecutul umanitatii, si se oprisera in acel cilindru urias din miscarea lor browniana ca niste molecule lenese inghetate de atemporalitate. Privelistea ma fascina intr-atat incat nu am observat ca in centrul camerei era un sifonier mare , nelacuit, cateva scanduri grosolane prinse-n cuie ruginite , care contrasta atat de puternic cu vechiturile ce-l inconjurau. Dulapul acela mare si banal, parea nou , pastrand mirosul acela al lemnului o data virgin , din care fusese zamislit. Ca si cum nu era de ajuns sa percep olfactivul de-a dreptul ostentativ, o raza de lumina pica drept pe acel corp de mobila primitiv ,facandu-l sa palpaie balama cu balama. Eram pe o scena , iar eu eram o actrita de mana a treia pedepsita prin obscuritate, in timp ce acel obiect de recuzita primise rolul existentei sale, primind toate onorurile teatrului. Dulapul acela voia sa-mi zica ceva; era destinatia mea, motivul pentru care ma aflam acolo, ba mai mult decat atat, era un alt eu , mai destept, mai bun si mai frumos. Ma obseda atat de tare ideea de a-l deschide ; am intins o mana tematoare catre clanta ruginita.Si deodata, tuna acea voce taraganata pe care o stiam atat de bine, amplificata sonor de zeci de ori, si -mi spuse :"Tot ce ai pierdut se va gasi. Tot ce ai stiut inainte de a te naste. Vei afla o modalitate nostima, ciudata, minunata de a le regasi." Sifonierul se deschise cu o miscare lenta , si un scartait asurzitor si ma absorbi , particula cu particula, in tenebrosul sau continut. Cadeam in gol. Muream.
Apoi m-am trezit.

Disclaimer.

2009-09-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

Everything written on this blog is a work of pure fiction and should be regarded as so. You may not use anything I wrote without express permission from me. Everything belongs to me minus the quotes, which I credited.

The Self-declared Outkast

2009-09-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

The beach was sunk in darkness and the only source of light was a perfectly round , icy moon which made the sea seem a sparkling pool of melt silver. Oh, if only I could describe that rich dark ink-blue of the summer sky, or the subtile line contured by the water in the grey sand. I was thinking that such a predictable, mainstream association of elements could not raise any kind of emotion in me, but I was so wrong, so wrong that shock hit me like a way too direct bullet. It was a perfect night for running away, for making love or for killing yourself. Sadly , I only did the first thing. I had been cordially invited to a fancy-trendy-glamshit party in one of the most pointlessly expensive nightclubs, but at one point I couldn't take it anymore, adn grabbed a bottle of vodka and one of my best friends and ran away on the beach. I was too sick and too tired of all those people, that over-the top sexuality, the music that made my head fall apart, but the thing that disgusted me the most was fucking glitter: on the walls, on clothes , on lips, inside brains. It was like after inhaling so much glitter I could finally get a breath of the fresh, salty marine air and feel alive. That is why I ran away: my presence on that beach was way more worthy than in any other place. Just the 2 of us, two souls connected by headphones, two huge and impeccable spirits puffing from their funky ciggarettes, two pairs of lips in desperate need of touching each other. See, it's not that hard to make me happy.

Playlist.

2009-09-06T11:39:00.000-07:00

Another season, another list of songs. Enjoy!

Bob Dylan-Desolation Row
Bob Dylan - Things Have Changed
Bob Dylan- All Along the Watchover
Bob Dylan- Man in the long black coat
Motley Crue- Rock n Roll Junkie
Motley Crue- Dr. Feelgood
Deep Purple -Sweet Child in Time
The Doors- Riders on the Storm
The Doors- Soul Kitchen
the Doors -The Crystal Ship
White Lies-To lose my life
The Script -Rusty Halo
Pasarea Colibri- Boxerul
Lynyrd Skynyrd-Sweet Home Alabama
Roxette -She's Got the Look
Led Zeppelin-Dazed and Confused
Pink Floyd-Mudmen
Pink Floyd -Shine on You Crazy Diamond
Pink Floyd-Echoes
Pink Floyd- See Emily Play
Pink Floyd-Summer '68
Pink Floyd-Fat Old Sun

You are just like me.

2009-09-03T10:38:00.000-07:00

You said I was insane. You said I was a brilliant and you also mentioned that I was the epithomy of decadence. You, world , rejected me because I was different and I scared you. You couldn't bear seeing how I could care so much about somebody that it hurt me, how I was flirting with genius and desaster, how I pointed my finger at you and I started laughing. At due time you embraced me again because you thought my awkwardness beyond reasoning was going to cut it in the trash can you call society. Then, I fought with faith because I was a devil between angels and you saw my true colors. Tell me do you find this ping pong game amusing? I did too because it trained well my idiosyncrasy and my mute hatred on so many different levels.
I want people to stop caring about me, about my brain or my soul. I don't need pity or applauses. My spirit is impeccable and unbreakable and that is more than enough to keep me from pointing a gun at my head. Leave me alone. I am vicious, I think too much, I'm an addict, I am too passionate, too rebellious, too ready to provoke anger or intrigue. I am an outkast with a bitter sarcasm. I am a better class of freak. Just hate me and let me hate you back.

I hate Bloody Mary.

2009-09-02T11:21:00.000-07:00

She's like a heavy machine gun ,but I learned how to make her shut up, how catch her tricky bullets and and throw them back to her. And I stand for everything she hates but she holds on to me like poisonous ivy and she follows me like fucking plague even in the caverns where I like to hide. Shut up Mary! You killed too many of my dreams and stole too many of my perfect moments. Shut up now and I won't shoot you in the head and I won't enjoy feeling your tiny brain blowing up in my hand. I've come up with so many ways to kill you that Charles Manson would be proud of me . I hate you, Bloody Mary, because you are like a poisonous drug that runs through my veins . Firstly I love the way you make me fall in flamboyant trips and then you kill me slowly. I'm awake now, and I can shout out loud: Fuck you , Bloody Mary!

Things have changed.

2009-09-01T12:22:00.000-07:00

"Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose/Any minute now I'm expecting all hell to break loose." (Bob Dylan)
Yesterday I got the closure of an era. Today I got the beggining of an other. I still haven't found my happiness on the bottom of any bottle or in a random pair of arms ,but I got a direction , some dreams and a bad hangover. I am as clueless as Sid Vicious onstage, because I dont really know what plans have been made for me. Looking back, I can finally depict memories of happiness , adrenaline, desolation, passion and inertia, beetween millions of pointlessly wasted moments. It feels good to be mature enough to distort the bitterness of life with self - sarcasm and immature enough to live spontaneously. So , please mr. Dylan sing for me , sing my life, sing my good times and my bad moments, sing me as I am, a clueless soul lead by a spotless mind.

With the blink of an eye

2009-08-31T11:51:00.000-07:00

It is the last summer day. It is also the day when rock n roll saved my life by pulling me out of a sort of dense, slimy mass of crap thet you commonly call society. If die right now my last words will be : I'm on drugs and the narcotic that I can't seem to get enough of is music. I would literally die for music, because of music and probably thanks to music. Rock n roll is the only religion I believe in because it was the only one that revealed me to myself and it has the only gods that do not punish me for not obeying. Who said this music is dead is a fucking bastard who is too intoxicated with the bag of shit that we call mass media. No, rock n roll doesn't mean selling idols on vinyl , it is a feeling and more, the dementia of a nihilistic generation and its legacy will live forever through the people who don't just listen to the music, but actually manage to hear it. These musicians made our culture come to life and gave proof of genius. They were drunks , druggies and trashy but at least they had class. And a brain inside their heads who gave birth to symbols and concepts covered with the dust of time and foolish arrogance. Rock n roll is alive and it still inspires and motivates in a world of sorrow and fake beliefs.

random.

2009-08-25T13:05:00.000-07:00

I feel the need to post, but I don't really have many original thoughts these days so I'll just add a list of my favourite songs at the moment.
Guns n Roses- Paradise City
Guns n Roses- Civil War
Alexandrina Hristov-Nimic nu e ca tine
Cradle of Filth- Nymphetamine Fix
Creed -One Last Breath
Crystal Castles-Magic Spells
Digitalism- Apollo-Gize
The Doors- Break on Through
The Doors- Love Me Two Times
The Doors-People are Strange
Karsh Kale-Distance
Metallica-Fade to Black
Metallica - One
Michael Jackson- Dirty Diana
Modeselektor-Silikon
Muse -Supermassive Black Hole
The National-Slow Show
Nickelback-How to Remind Me
Poets of the Fall- Illusion & dream
Thieves Like Us-Drugs in My Body
The Windupdeads-Reverse of Shade

Join me in darkness.

2009-08-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

She was a dark angel , unable to control her evil thoughts and her inevitable thirst. He was the one who would always remind her who she really was. She still had her fingers crossed when he kissed her and his lips brought her to life. Once again , he had defeated her demons , without even knowing it.For him , she was the one person whose mind he couldn't understand, like a dark creature with huge mood swings. He loved her as she was: scary, beautiful, dark and innocent.

one last breath.

2009-08-07T16:13:00.000-07:00

I could be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone. People who pretend to be older , younger, smarter, nicer, sexier, better...I 've seen them all in just one night. What brought me down was not them not accepting me as a part of their elitist group , but the mere act of pretending. Never in my life have I seen such a lack of common sense and authenticity . Tonight I decided once more that I hate the others. Still , I hate being alone as well. This is the paradox that broke my heart : I can't live without the people that I can't stand, because they do not understand who I really am and how much love I have to offer. Hatred.

Reverse of the Shade.

2009-07-28T11:46:00.000-07:00

Nu trebuie decat sa te intorci intr-un loc pe care l-ai mai vazut ca sa iti dai seama cat de mult te-ai schimbat. Schimbarea cea din urma m-a lovit in moalele capului ,mi-a patruns ca o doza mult prea puternica in sange si s-a raspandit ca si ciuma din epicentrul miocardic pana in extremitatile corpului. Imi pare rau , domnule Oscar Wilde , dar simturile nu mi-au vindecat spiritul , si nici spiritul nu mi-a vindecat simturile; paradoxal, atat simturile , cat si spiritul meu s-au mutilat reciproc. Se pare ca fiecare idee pune in pericol viata pe care mi-o doresc, iar fiecare hotarare luata o anuleaza.
Incapabila sa ma mai definesc, lupt contra a tot ceea ce iubesc, arunc tot ceea ce la un moment dat a avut un sens . Am vrut sa ma distrug ca sa ma pot cobori la un nivel pe care nu il explorasem, dar acolo totul era un gol neintrerupt , o prapastie ce ma despartea de viata ce mi-as fi dorit-o. Am calcat atea in picioare: senzatii,pasiuni, cuvinte pe care le iubeam, note muzicale si amintiri, totul pentru o viata care nu merita.

The Art of Playing Solitaire

2009-07-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

There is fullfilment even in sorrow , there is lust even in absurd desire. This kind of art is grossly underrated, being thrown in the „lame” bucket by the people that do not know the pleasure of a single’s moment solitude.Yes , I've been single ,but not lonely and I enjoyed every minute of it. I love that special place where I 'm always right , where my demons become my drinking partners, where I can be whoever I want to be. No, I'm not pledging for lonliness , but for introspection , that divine state of mind . I know all about it, the tricks and the traps it includes ,because I tried at one point in my life, to explore more than just my feelings , or my brain , or my spirit. I tried to understand the connection between these. And that ,my friends , defines the art of playing Solitaire.

Who's Lady Alien?

2009-07-02T15:59:00.000-07:00

The lady part is quite obvious...so I'm not going to emphasize the reason why I chose that ego. I am the most abnormal , outerspace and awkward person that I can think of. I decided that weird can be quite constructive and original enough to be turned into a self-branding tool. I am not good at promoting myself, but my awkwardness seems to be so intriguing lately that it almost took over who I am and made me an alien. Who am I?
Fucked up politics freak. Jewish. Insane yet reasonable. Aware of the rules that I'm constantly breaking. An old school villain, but not a bitch. Against the natural development of life. Sinner through blasphemy. Weird. Like an alien. Frankly, I don't give a damn ( as Clark Gable put it) about the negative reactions that the others might have towards me. I know who I am and I am more than you'd expect.
1. I secretly wish i were a boy.
2. I would choose politics over fashion anytime.
3. My aunt was a socialite in Paris in the 70's
4.I have never fallen in love
5. I cannot be deliberately mean.
6. I am a weirdoo caught in a group of high class assholes and whores.
7. I can be sarcastic and use my sense of humor elegantly
8. I am arrogant
9. I am proud to be Jewish
10. But then again, there 's so much more about me yet to be discovered.
5.

Zero.

2009-06-23T09:26:00.000-07:00

By the end of this post I shall know why i want to start over. I don't think it is running away from my problems (not anymore), but facing them.
My main reason is knowing my flaws and my limitations . I don't want to find an excuse anymore for them . This is who i am: I lied, i always pretended to be something I'm not, I let others tread on me because I was weak, I was blinded by arrogance and fake self confidence. No'actually in their eyes I 'm nothing worthy enough to take into account and I am fully responsible for that .
Now, I have absolutely no friends , no relationships or credibility and the only thing I can do is to start over. A new life without the ones that i hurt and the ones that hurt me is the most real thing I have. The only thing that will keep me company. Every single relationshp will end now . This is my new life . Alone , walking barefoot on broken glass I will be happy.

Party.

2009-06-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

I was wrong about me many times, but the most crucial mistake I made concerning my own self is not wanting to face the fact that I cannot be nice and sweet.I am a wild child and I am not gonna hold mysel back ever again. Parties bring out the very best of me/ the very worst of me and I make the very most of them. So why wold I let some fake Politeness outshine my personal best? I am exactly the girl that dances on tables , drinks and smokes, the one you sometimes hate. I am not perfect , nor do I wish to be so. I am just who I am, with my flaws and my passion for life. I wasted so much time as a cold blooded ice princess. Forget abot that girl ! She's dead and burried. Now I'm gonna leave you, cause the party is waiting for me and I 'm gonna make the most of it. Btw, I wish you were here and see the world through my eyes.

Flirting with distruction.

2009-06-01T09:17:00.000-07:00

People gossip.Bút people from highschool gossip beyond reason and just make up stuff. Never in my life have i thought that i could be involved in a scandal as a main character. I can't just go in highschool with a disclaimer sign written on my forhead stating :EVERYTHING THAT DICKHEAD SAID IS FALSE! I am mad because the real story is probably my only regret and it has degenerated so badly and was so twisted by ill-minded charcters that now it sounds like a pathetic tabloid article. I wish I could find within the people that matter their faith in me. I don't really know what to do, as this is not a question of my means of persuasion, but only a lame attempt of a guy to fit in. Gossip, gossip ,guys, gossip till you drop or till your lungs explode, cause you can't touch me anymore. Fresh , juicy and bombastic, right up!

On beginnings.

2009-05-08T10:29:00.000-07:00

My little innocent vendetta is getting expansive and mean , so I want to put an end to it. I want to start over, but am I really willing to put everything behind , to erase so many lyrics , either sad or joyful? Do I really want give up both that made me cry and the ones that made me laugh?
How much can we forget anyway? Maybe all the fear and the disgust that shattered our being is not to be put away, but to be dealt with. I need something to motivate me. I need a reason to change and to improve. I need you, whoever you are.

2009-05-03T05:06:00.000-07:00

I am not going to cry. Or maybe I will. That doesn't even matter now. I've been acting foolishly and invested foolish hope in worthless potential relationships. I can't express in words how bad this makes me feel or how much my vanity was hurt.I just know I have to leave all that behind . This time, though, I will face all my demons and I won't just run away. There are a few things that still matter to me; one of them is the respect I owe to myself. I cannot avoid seeing my whole scenarios shattering or pretend that everything is ok. Because it's not ok; I am not ok.
This failure is not just mine; when my hope broke the entire universe was guilty for making me embrace wonderful illusions. That is all about a virtual developent of the facts , parallel with reality.
Listen, I got your point and I'll try to listen this time .We are not made for each other even if the whole world is trying to prove the opposite. I am just so tired of this , tired of making things happen.I wish I could lay back and let life bring joy and love . Both to you and to me.

To my imaginary reader.

2009-04-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

I know that I started this blog a year ago .I don't have many readers , there are no inside jokes between me and other bloggers. I know who I am and I am loyal to myself, so I haven't used propaganda in order to earn views. To be frank, I don't really care if anyone reads my blog and I won't sell my thoughts. I put too much of myself in these lines and I do not intend to become commercial.
Today , I went from bad to worse:I was furious , I was weak, I was sad. Why the fuck do I care so much? Why do I invest so much in people who do not deserve it? Then I wanted to experiment something different: you take away my fashionable clothes, my makeup ; dressed down and potentially vulnerable. Is there something left? Am I worth less now?
This experiment turned out to be very positive . It inspired me to change.
Everything you knew before you were born is in you. At due time, you will find a weird,playful, wonderful way to find that.

The mind issue

2009-04-14T11:36:00.001-07:00

I feel like I'm loosing my mind. Literally. People say I think too much , I listen to way too much music, I read too much . But I've come to a point where , having all my regular excesses cut down, I have to use my mind in at least one noble way. I think about how many phases I've been through, how wrong I was, how many people I've hurt. I've also managed to develop this cinical , introspective , oscar wilde-like self... which is killing the good, positive , sunny part of me. It's the type of personality that I have always been craving, but now I'm not very proud of myself.
Today I lost my bible.
You may use your own concepts as a guideline.
But giving name to your concepts means starting a religion.
Don't dare to do so.

De ce, Tolea, de ce?

2009-03-30T05:29:00.000-07:00

O sa ma abtin de la scrisul in limba engleza si de la edulcorarea limbajului pe care il voi folosi. De ce dracu va credeti cu totii cei mai buni? Nu sunteti. Am spus-o de o mie de ori si o s-o mai zic inca o data : ma pis pe aroganta voastra, pe anii pe care ii aveti in plus, pe petrecerile voastre rave , pe iarba pe care o fumati. Cu ce sunteti mai buni? Sau cu ce suntem noi mai prejos? Comentati mereu despre politica , despre incultura si despre prostie; eu va intreb, aveti vreun drept? Sau la ce bun sa comentati, din moment ce nici macar nu incercati sa faceti ceva?
Sigur e mai mult decat suficient sa fi boem , sa dai deampulea din falci despre ce nu e bine si sa zici screw the world . E mult mai simplu . Un joint pentru regatul meu, Romania!

On genius part 2

2009-03-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

No man should be regarded as a genius, because no man deserves being regarded as a genius.Who are we? Did anyone manage to overcome his/her condition throughout history?Aren't we just creatures , just tools in the hands of a higher power? The Creator of this world (either real or imaginary-offtopic note) is the only genius , whatever shape He/She desires to embrace. Eyebrows might rise, and examples could be given to oppose my idea; but let me go on with a few arguments.
Einstein is probably the first name that our society connects to the status of genius. I'll admit his scientific theories are genius, the fact that he used a higher percentage of his brain is genius, and even his quotes are genius.
Freddie Mercury is another "genius" of our conscience , widely regarded as the best musician of all times. His voice is genius, his lyrics are genius, the fact that he performed just in his underwear is genius.
Another "musical" example is Jim Morisson. His theories on freedom, his drugs , his alcohol, his music, his lyrics -genius.
This list could go on and on .These people did genius things because they were given this purpose, but do their deeds really label them as genius? Or is this just an ingenious plot of our Creator?
No matter how much we fight, we suffer, we believe we will always remain puppets , and we shall carry our burden forever. That burden is our will power , that tiny voice that dictates us to bring out the best (or the worst in us) .To me this is the price we have to pay for the Originary Sin: this irony is genius, isn't it? The thing that makes us different from the animals is actually our punishment , the mere consequence of our deeds.
In life there is one choice to be made between pursuing the goal that was set for you or the one that you set for yourself. Either way the destination is disater, but the path that leads you there makes a difference. Even in everyday life there are random words , sentences, deeds or just coincidences, that are genius.However you should always remember who you are and the limitations of your condition , therefore not judging these moments as your own creation, but rather as miracles from above. No matter how good you are at something , there will always be someone who is better , and above all that there is the "man" that is the best, the Creator. We've imitated his thoughts , his creations, his ideas rather unsucccessfully and because of a foolish courage that we are being punished for. History consists of mistakes and it repeats itself in a spiral . History was the only creation of mankind . It seems to me that all we are capable of is a series of vulgar flaws chronologically arranged; in the end all we have is a bestseller and too much misery in our souls to look into His eyes.

On genius.

2009-03-27T06:38:00.001-07:00

Be careful with the one you call a genius
For his shadow is not shining with good light
His brain is a mask of the spirit that lays inside
You'll lose yourself in the depths of this fight
This is the war no man should ever start
The curse of every human is enough
Your thirs of knowledge will kill you
Because the answers you are seeking now
Are worth more than just a broken life
Beware of the man who is a genius
For he has the answers
And in his fists he keeps humanity.

The meaning of life is death.Every breath you take brings you closer to your final destination. But the genius thoughts are the ones that bring you closer to your path.to your answers.to you.

Healing.

2009-03-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

These spring-sunny-bubbly days were very refreshing for my state of mind, enabling me to settle free a new and improved persona; i am thankful for that. However this post doesn't celebrate the present, but the past. Exactly a year ago, I was hurt by someone that I cared about. Yes, I do know that these things happen, but I realize now that it took me a year of self pity , before I could stand up and actually forget.
But, now I found happiness in all the aspects of my life; I am thankful for that too.
WONDERWALL

Everything.

2009-03-14T09:13:00.000-07:00

I went out today with some friends and I had a sudden awkening while listening to them: good things , as in the real McCoy, come to the ones who deserve them. I'll admit, it was foolish of me to pose as a victim and to give up my chances of achieving Happiness. In life, you receive the mere consequences of your deeds, the result of any action . Therefore , it's not about destiny ( expecting things that are meant to happen) , but about making things happen. It is our choices that shape our life. A wrong decision may or may not affect one very much, but it certainly changes the trajectory of his days. Life is all about learning from your mistakes and fighting for the things you want.... fight for them until you deserve them. I believe they call it the Law of Attraction. I'd call it courage.

2009-03-02T11:21:00.000-08:00

There are things that should never be written , because they would lose their authenticity. My 17 years took me to a quite predictable conclusion: my drug is happiness. Not love, not success....But happiness. To be consumed at all times. No shaking or freezing is needed. My happiness comes in an absolute way, and it is able to drive you crazy . When I'm in love, when I am loved, when I win, when I am myself. When the universe wants me to be happy.Truly. Madly. Deeply.

The french revolution

2009-02-02T12:34:00.000-08:00

I'm home in France at last.It"s almost bizarre the way this small town, Chateauroux , unfolds its flat existence in a slow almost heaven-like motion. I like it , but I cannot bear the absence of vices, of sputtering and fuming and realistic life. However this journey benefits my life because I had a lot on my mind, a lot to overcome and to get over. Now I can open up to love , happiness and originality; because life is a series of dynamic revolutions.

Bisosus, mes chers amis. Pour une vie en rose . Tuer un sablier n'arette pas le temp.

Leapsa.

2009-01-30T09:17:00.000-08:00

Am primit leapsa de la Chris. Sa vedem , cum ar fi sa....

… sa fie o rosie pe fiecare scaun pe care te asezi?
O gluma din partea unui Jackson Pollock care a baut prea multa vodka.

… sa vezi un concert Bob Dylan?
Genial.

… sa ai mereu ochii lui aproape?
Ca o supradoza de chill.Ciudat .Al dracu de ciudat.

… sa ai mereu tutun si niciodata foite?
Nasol moment. Substitui foitele .

… sa n-ai restante?
Normal.

… sa bei pâna mori?
O chestie destul de desteapta daca te cheama Jim Morisson.

… sa faci plaja în Siberia?
Realitatea ce depaseste imaginatia.( dupa cum spunea domnul Fulea.)

… sa detii o alpaca? (o lama, animalul ala din Anzi) ?
I-as pune muzica de Bach.

… sa fii mexican?
As sabota SUA. Dar si nachos suna bine. Poate chiar in acelasi timp.

… sa cânti la vioara?
M-ar chema Svetlana si as fi blonda naturala.

… sa te cânte el?
Imposibil . Sau al dracu de usor.

The guess who.

2009-01-29T08:39:00.000-08:00

I am happy. Truly , madly , deeply. Beyond and without reason.

'Nd I love......

Randomize.

2009-01-26T08:03:00.000-08:00

I guess it takes to be the wrong persons at the right time , in order to overcome inner frontiers. I love the fact that I have friends that always help me....With them I'm a looser, very uncool and very profound ..... I still like playing, goofing around, settling free every childish emotion that I feel.
Striving to be perfect is tiring and deeply boring, and it doesn't make one a better person. I was very confused by the people I looked up to the most and deceived by the very world I had leaned on: a world where drugs , high fashion clothes, limos and expensive boozing was on the daily menu. That didn't make me either happy or unique , it just gave me a bitter taste of a surrealistic existence .

Andy Warhol: I wonder if people are going to remember us?
Edie Sedgwick: What, when we're dead?
Andy Warhol: Yeah.
Edie Sedgwick: Well I think people will talk about how you changed the world.
Andy Warhol: I wonder what they'll say about you... in your obituary. I like that word.
Edie Sedgwick: Nothing nice, I don't think.
Andy Warhol: No no, come on. They'd say, "Edith Minturn Sedgwick: beautiful artist and actress...
Edie Sedgwick: ...and all around loon.
Andy Warhol: ...Remembered for setting the world on fire...
Edie Sedgwick: ...and escaping the clutches of her terrifying family...
Andy Warhol: ...Made friends with eeeeverybody, and anybody...
Edie Sedgwick: ...creating chaos and uproar wherever she went. Divorced as many times as she married, she leaves only good wishes behind.

That's nice, isn't it?

Is it you I'm looking for?

2009-01-22T09:12:00.001-08:00

I'm still here , still standing, still ready to be blessed from above with a twist of luck. I know better than anyone that shit happens, but when shit occurs 5 days in a row , I should ring my inner alarm. I found only one plausible explanation : I look for happiness in the things I do not have access to or the ones that I do not afford. My dreams have grown to such a grotesque extent that I cannot meet my expectations anymore. Is it possible for a person to dream too much?
They say one is never given a dream without the power of achieving it; if so, where's that emotional strength that I need?
I put an end to my bad luck right now. Because I can.

The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.
Andy Warhol

And we're a year older...

2009-01-06T11:34:00.000-08:00

... but not necessarily wiser. I promised myself to stop partying , boozing, smoking, and those other activities that will most certainly bring me a one-way ticket to hell. I guess I am not as virtuous as i thought I was , but , hey, can't a girl have her fair share of fun? In fact, i love champagne, cigarettes, whiskey, just-for-funs and stuff like that but I do it my way. Our way. And one thing's for sure, we get wild like rockstars, we break rules and hearts, but we do it behind closed doors. That is class. And common sense. The worthiest replacement for wisdom.

Time to get raw.

2008-12-30T12:58:00.000-08:00

I'm not the coolest kid in town : I don't have the hottest physique , the best toys or the most snobbish tastes . In my defense , I could say that I actually like to be a freak, a freak that has never seen Requiem for a Dream, not very into Jude Law or "Smells Like teen Spirit ", who never gets drunk or dizzy no matter how alcohol I'd pour down my throat.
That being said, I am also a freak because I hate my generation. If we were to be less virtuous ,we would admit it: we all do drugs , we all perform underage boozing and stuff like that. Some of us do it delicately , behind closed doors only to their own pleasure. And then , there are the glamshit zombies who simply indulge themselves in a vulgar display of vices and foolish ambitions . I'd call it a public bullet. To you, my dear reader.
It's time to bring out the best in you, to get beyond your experience, beyond your narrow mind, beyond your arrogance. It's time to get raw.

On Christmas.

2008-12-24T03:07:00.000-08:00

I possess memories that are somehow related to Christmas, I also have those photos with me as a little girl next to a huge Christmas tree full of flamboyant adornments. However this is the first Christmas without beautifully wrapped presents, without my father , without Santa Claus. The rest of my family is trying to stick to the traditions , but they don't seem to be successful, and instead of the holiday spirit ,it is the"used to be" spirit that reigns in our house. I know there are some things that are gone forever, and I just tried to cover up the blank space to fill in for everybody who is missing. I admit that I am not an extremely virtuous being, but I like giving even when I'm not receiving, I like doing everything I am able to do just for the wellbeing of the others. This Christmas was not stolen by Grinch (yet) , but it hasn't brought me love, friendship or affection ( once again , yet). Instead I like to believe that it offered me willpower and courage to change for the better. And faith I might add, in myself, in the future and in everything it holds for me. Christmas has also come along with knowledge and wisdom, as it brought me to the conclusion that I don't belong to a specific group, but I belong to the world.
This Christmas is like Yin and Yang it is both happy and sad , it wakes up my deepest pains and losses , but it also opens a new path to be followed in the new year . Disappointed ? Not at all. In the end, Christmas is just as relative as art itself: it only stands for the things you attribute to them, only for the sincere feelings that you decide to settle free.
And for me? Christmas means a wish and the power to achieve it, letting go all the bad times, opening up to the really important things in life. As a more restricted sense, this holiday is all about believing in your dreams and finding the path that leads to it, without forgetting the people that love you.
I wish you the brightest Christmas ever!

High.

2008-12-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

This is not the suitable state of mind ( and body, I might add) for blogging, nor this is the brightest way to begin a post, but I rely on the side effects of the alcohol / cigarettes/ other stuff , to do this job for me. What happened this night will most certainly be thrown in a dark corner of our memory , and therefore, it shall never cross our lives again. It was joy, it was madness and intensity, but above all, it was freedom. It was the absolute and delicious danger, the bloody adrenaline, and it was us, a way out, an empty road, and the wind that leads us further.

Preparing 4 the holiday.

2008-12-15T12:17:00.000-08:00

I have to be straightforward and say that i 've never been to Confession; I know, I'm a sinner and everything but I stand rebut . Anyway , in order to compensate for that, I am actually willing to recall the bad things that I've done these past few days.
Firstly , it looks like i mastered the fine art of blackmail cause i think I successfully used it almost every day.( for noble causes....mostly) . I like to call my next sin surrealistic threatening.......never to be accomplished, but never fails.I lied, I cheated ,I swore, I took God's name in vane. Basically these are my sins. The situation is not that bad( yeah, I'm going straightly to hell):))).

On high society.

2008-12-06T11:47:00.000-08:00

I am not an outsider, nor do I wish to be one. My social position is quite instable, and its versatility lays in the variety of cliques that i frequent. The truth is that it is rather hard to think of the category in which i belong, because i am regarded as a cocktail of all the labels. I am introspective enough to fit in the artistic group ( the guys with funky clothes and cameras) , self concious and egocentric enough to be a scene kid ( the ones who like to show off a lot) , smart ( and modest) enough to be the nerdy type.
Recently i had the opportunity to get a glance into the world of the so called elite of Constanta. Of course that I met people that stood for everything i hate, but it also made me shatter my beliefs . Being part of the high society of Constanta does not necessarily mean being superficial, but being as superficial ( and artificial) as you want. Word is, we all need a bit of luxury and pampering sometimes, spending money or considering trivial things. I guess it is part of the human nature . To me , this insight offered me not only a break from my intellectual status, but also changed me for the better. You might be really surprised about that and you might also ask how the hell this happened. The answer is very simple: it made me think about the kind of person i want to become, it gave me confidence in my self and fulfilled my need for adrenaline.
Strange as it may seem I find something good in all the lifestyles i met: the energy of punk rockers, the deepness of the artists, the wisdom of the nerds, the confidence of the popular kids. I might be awfully wrong, but i believe that these are the ingredients of a great existence. I said it before and i shall say it again: I hate this town and I hate this country , but while I'm here I am going to take all the advantages that life is kind enough to offer me. I try not to regard Constanta as a dead end , but as an exciting beginning, because in here there are plenty of things for me to learn and i am ready to learn all the lessons that time teaches me.

Ecstasy, panic attacks and everything in between.

2008-12-05T12:34:00.000-08:00

I managed to break the inertia that had overwhelmed me in the past few weeks. Or at least, this is what i thought. However, yesterday I had a huge breakdown, that was not emotional ( not totally emotional) , but mostly due to the pressure that i have been putting on myself lately.Unfortunately, I am an overachiever and the standards that i set for myself are almost impossible to reach.
Yesterday's panic attack ( literally) was a bit more than what I had been used to; but I feel much better right now.
As an off topic , I shall refer to traditions. I always regarded them as old fashioned( but effective) ways to spend/ win money and mass media coverage. Still, i had a second thought these days and I have come to the conclusion that it is not the custom itself that matters, but every symbolic value we invest in it.
Looks like sometimes physical weakness brings along wisdom...

The right and the righteous.

2008-12-03T12:08:00.000-08:00

Of course I crave happiness and everything that it brings along; when was i truly happy?
Probably, when I got a positive reply at my letter of application for an internship at Escada in New York. It is very clear to everyone that i am an overachiever . In case you're wondering, i turned down that internship , because I didn't want to leave school.
I am happy when I do public speaking and debating; my role exists only in front of an audience and nothing else matters, except for my purpose.
Also, i am happy when I am myself; because that is the worthiest thing a person can do.
After all, it 's not happiness what's really important, but the road that leads to it. Right now I'm on the highway of dreams with a crystal clear horizon in front of me.

50 songs that i couldn't live without.

2008-11-30T12:51:00.000-08:00

1. Billy Joel – Piano Man

2. Googoo Dolls-Iris

3. Cocorosie-Beautiful Boys

4. Guns’n Roses- Knocking on Heaven’s Door

5. Doors- Light my fire

6. Rolling Stones- Angie

7. Oueen-Show Must Go On

8. Led Zeppelin-Stairway to heaven

9. Aretha Franklin respect

10. The Kooks- Naive

11. Richard Marx – Right Here waiting

12. AC/DC – Highway to Hell

13. Queen –Bohemian Rapsody

14. Rolling Stones-You Can’t always get what you want

15. Bob Dylan –Like a Rolling Stone

16. Guess Who- Shakin’ all over

17. The Kooks-Seaside

18. John Lennon-Imagine

19. Steppenwolf- Born to Be Wild

20. Jimmy Hendrix-Purple Haze

21. Billy Joel –Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

22. Aerosmith- Walk This Way

23. Sex Pistols- Anarchy in the UK

24. Googoo dolls – Slide

25. Sum 41-With Me

26. Billy Joel –She’s always a woman

27. Billy Joel –She’s got a way

28. Thieves Like Us- Drugs in My Body

29. Air Traffic-Just Abuse Me

30. Madonna- Evita

31. Tupac-Ghetto Gospel

32. Nirvana - Rape me

33. Nirvana –Smells like Teen Spirit

34. Stone Sour- Through the Glass

35. Marilyn Manson-Hit Me baby One more Time

36. Pink Floyd- The wall

37. Carmina Burana

38. Nickelback-Rockstar

39. Bjork – Possibly Maybe

40. Lionel Ritchie-Hello

41. Michael Jackson -Billie Jean

42. Alanis Morissette- I’m a Bitch, I’m a Lover

43. The Clash -London Calling

44. Radiohead,-Creep

45. Under The Bridge-Red Hot Chili Peppers

46. chop suey - system of a down

47. Barracuda-Heart

48. Chris Ortega& Thomas gold- Hypnotize

49. Snow Patrol- Chasing cars

50. Patrice- Soulstorm

This is not a top , but a list.I just wrote the songs that popped into my mind, but there are more of them that mean the world to me. Enjoy!

Road n' trip.

2008-11-28T11:53:00.000-08:00

My train leaves tomorrow at 7 AM and I just can't wait. My enthusiasm does not stand for the destination itself , but for the road that leads to it. My life has given me few opportunities to enjoy it at its fullest; let's go trough my schedule once more.
In the train, I'll probably smoke a pack of cigarettes and drink a Red Bull. If I'm lucky, I'll also get a glossy, thick, fashion magazine, like harper's bazaar or Vogue.
I arrive at the station and then I just wonder around, smoke another pack of cigarettes, visit my fave bookshop, and meet my friends.
8 PM Lucky me! I got free tickets to a play at TNB .
11 PM Ota... of course ( as in my favorite place in Bucharest)
5 am sleep - upcoming exam!
gotta go......hope you 'll miss me:P

10 reasons against sex while drunk

2008-11-24T10:25:00.000-08:00

1.Can't play with the lights.( Hot dude lights on, ugly dude lights off)
2.The missionary position seems to be enough.
3. Vices, pleasures...call them whatever you like. That's just semantics. Word is, they never go together.
4. Morning time?! I don't think so.
5.When you drink Jack, Jameson and Johnny , there is no better man.
6.Sex = balance....heels + whiskey = lack of balance
7. You know it , you hate it.......dial 567-54-PREGNANCY
8.Eventually , you are going to vomit; that's so not right.
9. Womanizing, boozing , drugs.... so wrong if underage.
10 Everything i wrote here might be fake....cause i lack the experience to confirm all the above mentioned.

Lose control.

2008-11-23T10:17:00.000-08:00

I always thought that it is good to get beyond your experience and not to take yourself too seriously.I guess last night was all about not being myself and i may say it felt disgustingly perfect. To be honest, it is not easy for a girl who listens to Rolling Stones and Sex Pistols to lose control in a constructive way, but it did work for me, right? Of course prohibition never stood a chance against exhibition. Also say you're the right person in the wrong place and the result is a crazy twisted but amazing experience. When you're out there , party your life out, with your head spinning and your blood pressure as up as the stars....you know you're happy . Even if the next day you feel dizzy and craving for cigarettes and coffee ( and i am living proof of that) this is the closest to heaven that we will ever be. At least that is what they say. Of course , your head hurts like hell and you have a very bad cold , but still , it feels like winning. Cheers!

November intermezzo.

2008-11-21T09:15:00.000-08:00

These days were just like hell: hectic and pointless. Even though i still lack inspiration to write a coherent text , I got the motivation to change my lifestyle. At this point, I feel like a zero on a scale of 1 to 10; I guess that is due to the shit that has been happening lately. There are a lot of things that I hate about my persona right now and i strongly believe it is the right stage of my life to do something about this.
I'll be on soon, guys!

The Beginning.

2008-11-18T12:21:00.000-08:00

Even at this point of my life, the world never ceases to amaze me , to alter me to my very essence; had I humbly stood rebut , faith would have never reprimanded me with such a despising, diabolical and sarcastic hatred. The only concept I madly believe in is freedom in all its shapes ; death cannot stop me -it takes a straitjacket to do that. My road is long, perhaps never ending , and it is my witness : I will tread on whoever stands in my way, I will always have the freedom to be whatever i want to be. Here I stand for a spotless and reckless future, marked by challenge, success and legend. To my future!

Life. To be continued.

2008-11-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

Sunt o fata cu gusturi simple.Mai mult decat atat sunt o fata absolut la fel ca celelalte.Si eu visez la un fairy tale modern; si eu am fantezii romantate si mult edulcorate in ceea ce ma priveste, si nu vad nimic rau in asta. Visele mele sunt ca niste microuniversuri transperente ; daca le suprapun privesc o imagine grandioasa , de o estetica fantastica. Acest diapozitiv capata valente tridimensionale, infloreste in artificii pluriforme si exotice.
Viata este exact asa cum o vezi. Ea nu are o tipologie anume, o reteta
( gen 2/3 suferinta si 1/3 fericire) , ea e mai degraba relativa. Cel mai important lucru este sa fii capabil sa treci de ceea ce este evident, sa gasesti lucrurile care te fac fericit. Si cand le vei gasi, viata va fi un vis.

To a must -have make-believe life.

2008-11-15T10:26:00.000-08:00

Ma enerveaza multe zilele astea. Multe lucruri, multe persoane (chiar si persoana mea , daca e sa zic tot) . Dar , ca metoda de contra atac, alter ego-ul meu cel vulgar spune: Vreu sa-i dau la muie sortii. Vreau ca destinul sa se tarasca in fata mea , sa ii rad in fata si sa -l fac sa-mi plateasca pentru tot. Ce spun eu? Pai , eu nu zic nimic, ca si asa nu ma aude nimeni zilele astea. Poate vreo cretina de planeta e retrograda sau poate ca o merit. Nu am inspiratie nici cat sa scriu lista de cumparaturi pentru aprozar; daramite sa intocmesc vreun cacat de Sandra/ Dan Brown. Cu mirobolantul accent scotian pe care il posed voi racni un FUCK YOU poetic, ce va baga spaima in tot cartierul( ca si asa nu am nimic mai bun de spus/facut). Javra vecinilor o sa ma latre , iar tiganusii de pe strada imi vor arata , galant, degetul din mijloc. Dar cum pe mine nu ma aude nimeni, nu voi avea parte de astfel de tratamente. Daca ati reusit sa cititi pana aicim imi pare groaznic de rau ca v-am plictisit cu nonsensurile mele. Cum spuneam, MUIE sortii!

j'aime le burlesque.

2008-11-10T08:37:00.000-08:00

Azi m-am simti ca un personaj desprins din "Craii de curte veche" a lui M. Caragiale. Nu a fost ca un deja vu , ci mai degraba ca un deja vécu.Daca va mai spun si ca toata aceasta revolta a memoriei a inceput printr-o bomboana de la Capsa, poate ca o sa ma credeti. Cum sa rezist strazilor boeme, cantecelor seducatoare, si barocului casei Arnotesti?Cateodata cred ca acest mic , dar , oh, atat de real roman a fost scris numai si numai pentru sufletul meu. Totul asa de rococo , un usor iz de ridicol, arta revolutionara.ce frumos era atunci cand ma plimbam prin Bucuresti intr-o trasura cocheta, mereu cu o camelie prinsa delicat in par, cu rochii in care se topisera si rasaritul si apusul; cu receptii luxoase , decadente, seri lungi la teatru si carnetele de bal. Oare cati pantofi cu toc, mici am distrus, dansand fara oprire, in figurile complicate ale cadrilului? Oare cate soapte pline de respect mi-au colorat obrajii? As vrea sa pot cunoaste raspunsul, dar deceniile ingrate mi-au sters constiinta de dinainte. Acum , mai am doar o camelie uscata pe care am gasit-o in roman.Pesemne ca am pus-o la presat pe cand eram si eu un personaj de roman.

On anarchy, and peanut butter.

2008-11-09T11:09:00.000-08:00

Am vicii diverse( nu neaparat si perverse) . Le recunosc si le iubesc. O tigara, un jack, un roadtrip (cu mai multe trip decat roads) . Daca imi fortez un pic imaginatia, totul se intampla pe o scena. Si pe tipul langa care stau il cheama Jim Morisson.
Nu -mi iese mereu asa. Visez enorm, colorat in dementa. E placere pura, nebunie si geniu; acolo unde se intampla, pot fi orice imi doresc . Daca ma droghez, ma trezesc cu o luciditate incredibila. Si riff-urile mele suna colosal. Cumva , in vise totul este permis, totul mai putin realitatea.
E bine sa visezi , atata timp cat orgasmul mental, nu iti corupe si spiritul. In fond, visul e o utopie.

cum sa iti bagi p**a (pula ) in tot.

2008-11-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

Acest titlu ar contrazice tot ce am scris (si probabil voi scrie) pana acum. Daca ar fi adevarat....
De fapt nu poti sa dai dracu pe toata lumea, pentru ca nu ti-ar conveni. Cei care ajung la dracu, vor sti inaintea ta cat de rau e cel mai rau, si vor castiga. Asa ca , in realitate te-ai mascarit singur. Asa sta treaba cu " screw the world'....este un cacat de bumerang al ironicei vieti.
In alta ordine de idei, azi am descoperit cat de mult imi displac oamenii care se iau prea in serios (cu ipocrizia de rigoare, intrucat si eu am fost una din aceste persoane) .Va dati seama ca m-am saturat de cei care se cred cei mai buni. Hint: Nu sunteti cei mai buni. Si daca ( printr-o condamnabila intorsatura a destinului) voi chiar sunteti cei mai buni, nici dracu nu va crede. So, taceti din gura, si veti castiga mult mai mult.
Cititorii mei ( putini , dar fideli, in limitele decentei, nu?) sunt un pic cam sictiriti , asa ca nu mai am nimic extrordinar de spus ( va rog sa ma scuzati pentru inca o dezamagire; si daca nu ma scuzati cu atat mai rau pentru voi;) ).
Traiasca Lenin si Nikita (femeia cu suflet de barbat) -fara numar srl 1 =)))

To friendship.

2008-11-05T12:13:00.001-08:00

Pana acum nu am am avut prieteni adevarati. M-am perindat prin zeci de suflete, am trait zeci de experiente ce au creat legaturi puternice. Si totul s-a pravalit la prima briza de dezamagiri, minciuni si falsitate. Cu totii am gresit. Poate eu mai mult decat ceilalti, pentru ca am renuntat la conceptul de prietenie ; poate pentru ca mi-a fost frica sa nu aleg din nou persoanele nepotrivite.
Dar acum, totul s-a schimbat. Prietenia nu mai e ceva optional, ea a devenit o necesitate. Nu mai inseamna doar comunicare, si petrecerea timpului impreuna; pentru ca uneori nu e nevoie de cuvinte sau de contact vizual pentru a stii ca cineva este acolo, mereu oferindu-ti exact lucrul ce iti face bine. Cred ca pur si simplu faptul ca nu am avut parte de asa ceva pana acum, ma face sa pretuiesc si mai mult ceea ce mi se ofera. Pentru prima oara , simt ca pot incredinta intreaga mea existenta in mainile lor; ei sunt publicul meu, criticii mei, dar mai ales, sunt cei ce invata, simt, gandesc ceea ce gandesc si eu.Pentru ca suntem ipostaze ale aceluiasi eu. Cat de usor mi-e sa zambesc, sa decojesc lumea de mister, sa sa fiu orice imi doresc. De data aceasta, nu mai este vorba de sentimente daruite pe jumate, de vise trucate si ironii mascate. Voi da totul, pentru prietenie.

To friendship....to this moment and the rest of our lives...I 'd be nothing without you.

2008-11-04T11:33:00.000-08:00

Chiar imi doresc sa fie asa cum nu a mai fost: sincer , frumos si magic. A trebuit mai intai sa se inverseze polii pamantului pentru ca eu sa ma schimb. Pentru ca noi sa ne schimbam. A fost greu, neverosimil, dar inevitabil. Am inceput cu sfarsitul acum mult, mult timp. Dar de acum totul se schimba, se reconfigureaza. Inceputul, emotia, iubirea sunt inocente, pline de sens nobil . Poate voi pierde din nou acel pariu, cu mine, cu tine, cu lumea toata, dar nu asta conteaza acum. Voi face totul altfel, lucrurile se vor aranja ca un puzzle colorat si armonios. Voi spune tot ce nu ti-am spus. Pentru ca acesta e prima zi din restul vietii mele.

A ta,
C. C.

Remember the daze?

2008-11-02T08:49:00.000-08:00

Daca as intelege ceva din ce s-a intamplat in ultimele trei zile, v-as povesti . Printr-o generoasa intorsatura a lucrurilor am primit ceea ce imi doream, dar nu a fost asa cum imi imaginasem de atatea ori. Despre ce e vorba? Ei, unii dintre voi o sa afle chiar maine;))

On being sincere.

2008-10-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

Sinceritatea este fundamentala in toate lucrurile pe care le fac, in relatiile pe care le am ( de orice natura) . Cred ca este lucrul care ma face un orator desavarsit, dar si o fiinta umana lamentabila ( in societatea in care traiesc) , pentru ca pe de-o parte sunt capabila de a marturisi sentimente intrinseci, profunde , zamislite din esenta spiritului, ganduri concepte si idei care poarta sensul existentei mele, iar pe de alta parte, nu stapanesc arta de a le ascunde la momentul potrivit.
A fi onest cu tine inseamna a-ti recunoaste greselile si victoriile, a-ti cuprinde intreaga viata intr-o traire : cand esti cel mai bun , cand esti iubit si fericit, cand infrunti cu energie si curaj propria-ti soarta, cand te faci de ras, cand nu iti atingi asteptarile, cand pierzi totul intr-o clipa.
La fel de greu este sa fii sincer cu toti cei ce te inconjoara . Iti este teama sa dezamageti, sa pierzi, sa starnesti ura, sa distrugi . De aceea s-a inventat minciuna. Oare nu este de ajuns ca si sinceritatea este o masca? Trebuie oare sa o dublezi grosolan prin alterarea realitatii?
Poate ca pentru un om , sinceritatea este greu de dobandit si de controlat pentru ca ea aduce cu sine atat lucruri pozitive cat si lucruri negative. Totusi, ea poate salva societatea.

how to save a life.

2008-10-27T13:44:00.000-07:00

Imi place sa cred ca oamenii sunt in permanenta schimbare, evolutie si recristalizare moleculara. Pentru ca ( din pacate ) sunt o idealista convinsa si iremediabila , cred in progresul umanitatii in ciuda mass media si chiar a opiniei publice.
Dar lipsesc multe inca: lipseste frumusetea vie a existentei, lipseste insasi sensul unei vieti pentru fiecare individ, avantul, energia si curajul. Pentru ca sunt o simpla proiectie atemporala a ceea ce am fost , simt aproape prea stringent, cat de mult s-a schimbat Totul. Daca m-as alinia perfect in acest puzzle , poate as capata si suflu si culoare in obraj si curajul de a fi.
Dar nu as face asta. Cum as putea eu oare sa privesc inapoi, sa ma scufund pana in adancurile aride ale acestui trecut? Si pentru ce? Nu cumva , ceea ce caut este deja aici?

Inner and outer space.

2008-10-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

Mi-am permis o pauza destul de mare (de la scris) dar iata ca am revenit la blogul meu ( zilele acestea am incercat sa imi dau seama de ce l-am creat ; am ajuns la concluzia ca aveam nevoie de un surogat, de un fel de jurnal, pentru ca niciodata nu am posedat suficienta auto disciplina pentru a ma implica in mod constant intr-o astfel de activitate) . Revenind la ce am facut zilele astea , pot afirma ca nu am irosit timpul ci l-am fructificat la maxim. Cum asa?
In primul rand , am avut parte de un lant de revelatii placute care mi-au rasturnat anumite principii, si au cladit idei noi si concepte mai solide. Am renuntat ( cu placere as putea zice) la prejudecati ( nu multe la numar, anyway) , asa ca pot spune ca m-am maturizat. Aparent , cel putin.
Doi la mana, am reconstruit cu mari eforturi, o parte infima din trecut, un mic back to origins. Ideea este ca simteam ca esenta mea, personalitatea si restul elementelor ce ma definesc se diluasera si se intepartasera prea mult de finalitatea lor fireasca. Desigur , am indreptat aceasta nefericita situatie, cat de bine am putut. M-am intors in locul in care totul a pornit, mi-am vazut zilele derulandu-se ca un film vechi, am identificat greselile majore, si le-am reparat in mare parte.
In final, vreau sa fac o promisiune ( mai mult sau mai putin :))) solemna, un nou blog , cu un subiect specific. Nu o sa va zic despre ce e vorba, va las imaginatia sa lucreze.
VIVA LA REVOLUCION!

A penny for your life.

2008-10-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

Cost de oportunitate= (economie) cea mai buna alternativa sacrificata in favoarea alternativei alese
Sa zicem ca nu am o pasiune nebuna pentru economie politica. Sa zicem ca nu sunt un geniu priceput la orice domeniu. Si sa mai zicem ca am de luat decizii cruciale.
Acestea fiind postate , pot spune ca definitia mai sus mentionata caracterizeaza cum nu se poate mai bine insasi nemiloasa, intortocheata, dar minunata existenta ce mi-a fost harazita. Sa va explic cum stau lucrurile. Sunt mandra posesoare a nenumarate vise, dorinte si ambitii. Pe unele dintre ele mi le-am indeplinit cu succes. Cu toate acestea, daca fac un calcul simplu, pot afirma ca am pierdut direct proportional. Cred ca trebuie sa fii un geniu cu adevarat ca sa poti face o alegere cu adevarat buna. Eu nu sunt un geniu. Eu sunt un om. Am ales, am castigat, dar am si pierdut. Am pariat insasi esenta din care sunt facuta, am riscat sa ma pierd cu totul in societate, sa devin o umbra a propriilor mele actiuni. Pe deoparte am invins, datorita unor motive de finete psihologica. Pe de alta parte, planul meu nebunesc, cu potentialul sau urias, avea o mica fisura; de aceea am esuat lamentabil.
Dar nu alegerile trecute sunt subiectul acestui , post, ci acelea ce vor urma. Viitorul se anunta a fi cel putin interesant si abia astept sa vad ce imi rezerva. O moneda pentru viata mea....

Party people?

2008-10-10T11:36:00.000-07:00

Va anunt de pe acum ca exista o posibilitate destul de mare ca acest post sa alunece pe panta penibilului din cauza cantitatii destul de mari de Bellini pe care am baut-o azi, pe de alta parte aceste momente dulci si putin acidulate ( ca sampania , desigur) sunt de-a dreptul delicioase, ca un orgasm intelectual si merita sa aiba un coresponden macar la fel de spumos ( literar, desigur). Sa va spun cat mi-au lipsit serile in oras ? Cat de dor imi era de aceasta dulce ameteala, de parfumuri tari, senzuale, de rococoul asta amagitor? Nu prea cred ca ar avea sens. Seara mea a stat ( si inca sta, as putea zice) sub semnul efervescentei, al vanitatii, si , normal al alcoolului. Dar nu imi pare rau , e my little guilty pleasure . Am petrecut, si vom mai petrece . Am iubit si vom mai iubi. Am trait si vom mai trai. Pentru ca asa e Totul, in jurul caruia gravitam cu totii, cateodata arogant, aproape malitios, alte ori, scandalos de placut.
Champagne, if you are seeking the truth, is better than a lie detector. It encourages a man to be expansive, even reckless, while lie detectors are only a challenge to tell lies successfully

Supersonic child.

2008-10-07T10:05:00.000-07:00

Se facea ca azi era ieri si ca maine era azi. O zi destul de ciudata, in care nimic nu trada realul, o imitatie incompleta a existentei. Partial , mi-am retrait copilaria, doar ca nu mai eram copil. Partial, era seara, dar cerul nu era plin de stele , asa cum mi-l aminteam, ci deformat de ceata. Partial, traiam asa cum o facusem de atatea ori, doar ca bomboanele devenisera tigari. Am vorbit mult, ne-am amintit si mai mult, dar decorul era altul. Si noi eram altfel. Si doar intr-un colt ascuns al memoriei, eram sinceri. Am mancat seminte , dar aveau un alt gust. Am ascultat muzica, dar versurile nu le-am mai inteles. Era intre noi un gol in care aruncasem visuri puerile, papusi si dinti de lapte.Si oricat ne-am fi straduit , nu ajungeam mai aproape; prapastia dintre noi se cascase intr-atat incat inghitise tot: si luna cea rotunda ca o portocala si blocurile in care ne ascundeam cu mult timp in urma si gradinile din care rupsesem atatea flori. Si se facea ca ramasesem doar noi, straini intre noi, straini de lume. Cu totii am pierdut, cu totii am gasit , cu totii am gustat seara aceea cu gust dulce amar. Inocenta nu mai era; devenise regret. Iar noi? Am invatat sa ne cunoastem. Pentru ca in acea noapte am fost mult mai puerili decat fusesem vreodata.

Smells like teen spirit.

2008-10-05T10:34:00.000-07:00

Niciodata nu mi-a placut cuvantul adolescent pentru ca de fiecare data cand il aud este asociat doar cu teribilism, prostire in masa, si altele. Pentru ca acest cuvant nu va avea niciodata un sens negativ; el va avea parte de cea mai dulce, inocenta, puerila semantica. De acum incolo acest cuvant e botezat intr-o noua religie a sufletului; el este forta, lumina, si energie. De ce sa fii un cuvant in dictionar cand poti sa fii orice ti-ai dori? Daca iti doresti luna de pe cer , e de ajuns sa iti intinzi mana , sa o prinzi cu degetele cutezatoare, sa o decojesti de mister, si sa o inspiri pe toata, cu toata magia si stralucirea ei. Iubesti, urasti, razi, plangi, te lupti; esti o forta a naturii. Iti plac lucrurile ilegale, te atrage ceea ce iti este necunoscut sau interzis. In serile calde de vara te gasesc mereu pe o plaja , mereu cu o chitara in brate, mereu cu visurile azvarlite catre orizont. Cateodata plangi din tot sufletul , ca un copil , cateodata razi iar fericirea iti inunda creierul; esti mereu autentic mereu la fel, si totusi de fiecare data te reinventezi. O lume intreaga paseste tematoare, tu alergi, sari , zbori; dorintele tale tasnesc mai sus de stele. Tu poti face totul , esti un gigant al erei noastre, nimic nu e greu. Sustii pe umerii tai Totul: trecut, prezent si viitor. Esti originea, punctul de referinta, lumea intreaga se invarte , ca o planeta greoaie , numai si numai in jurul tau. Ideile tale sunt filozofii adanci, e de ajuns sa pui o intrebare si primesti raspunsul. Nimic nu te poate opri. Apoi cazi.

I get a little bit, she gets a little more

2008-10-04T12:40:00.000-07:00

Al treilea post din seara asta.... Azi cam am chef de scris, nu? Oricum, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mt7jMhMGqY pentru ca toti suntem la fel, toti cautam fericirea in locul gresit. Cum ar fi daca uneori nu am asculta ratiunea, daca nu am simti ura fata de ceilalti, si daca nu ne-am subaprecia constant. Mereu va exista cineva mai frumos, mai destept, mai bun decat noi. Dar niciodata nu va exista cineva fericit ca acela care isi iubeste viata , care crede in el si in visurile sale. Totusi, nu-i atat de usor..... Trebuie sa gresesti , trebuie sa cazi, trebuie sa plangi. Dar merita. Intotdeauna va fi asa.

"I get a little bit, she gets a little more
She's Miss America and... she's Miss America
I'm just the girl next door..."

Este asa de simplu! Dar lucrurile simple sunt si cele mai grele, nu?

Laugh out loud.

2008-10-04T11:06:00.000-07:00

Sa fie euforie. Sa radem cu gura pana la urechi. Sa ne curga fericirea prin vene. Sa ne drogam cu bucurie. Sa moara tristetea si lasitatea, falsitatea si negativismul. Sa fie euforie.

Love.

2008-10-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

Nu am sa vorbesc despre ce a fost, nici despre ceea ce o sa fie, ci despre ceea ce este: iubire, rock si tigari. All inclusive. As putea adauga si Jack Daniels. Deci va e clar ca de mult n-am fost atat de bine. Ascult intr-una Kid Rock- All Summer Long ( cu mentiunea ca summer =autumn in cazul meu) . Dar ceea ce e cu adevarat surprinzator e ca intr-un sfarsit mi-am revenit din pasa incredibil de proasta in care am fost vara asta si ca iubesc din nou. Iubesc viata, iubesc iubirea , iubesc gustul tare de Jack si mai ales iubesc acest anotimp. Pentru ca am gasit ce pierdusem . Pentru ca te fac sa zambesti. Pentru ca galbenul e culoarea surprizei. De aceea iubesc.

Morning affair.

2008-10-03T10:17:00.000-07:00

.Inca de dimineata m-am trezit cu o nevoie de a scrie pe blog, dar abia acum m-am asezat in fata calculatorului. Revenind , imi plac mult diminetile; beau cafea , fumez o tigare pe acoperis ( stiti bine cum sunt mamele: my house , my rules) si planuiesc intreaga zi( normal ca iese contrar planurilor mele, dar hey that's exactly what I love about my life) . Ziua mea poate degenera fie intr-un triumf al creativitatii, energiei si al creatiei, fie poate deveni un fals inceput, inertie si dezamagire. Cateodata simt ca am foarte putin control constient fata de traiectoria zilelor, saptamanilor,...Azi am hotarat inca de dimineata ca imi va merge excelent si in mare masura asa s-a si intamplat.
Si inca ceva, azi am avut parte de lucruri pe care nu le mai facusem de mult, m-am intalnit prieteni cu care imi era dor sa vorbesc si mai ales nu am fost judecata gresit. ( I'm like the Non judging breakfast club and really expect to see that coming from the others) Multumesc tuturor celor care au transformat o zi de cacat intr-o zi minunata.

For old times sake.....

2008-10-02T10:12:00.000-07:00

Ziua mea a inceput cat se poate de monoton cu scoala si inevitabilele si luuuungile ore de istorie.(btw vi se pare normal ca fac 6 ore de istorie si 4 de romana? cacat.) Oricum cea de-a doua jumatate a zilei a compensat mult si bine :D Am iesit din casa dupa ce m-am certat cu draga, minunata mea bunica, si am pornit pe jos si sa facu ca ajunsesem deja pe la primarie. Si ca sa o zic pe englezeste I a bumped into a very old friend of mine , pe care (lasand gluma la o parte ) nu il vazusem de foarte mult timp. ( genul ala de prieten cu care pur si simplu am impartit de la sticla de bere Stejarul pana la pachetul de Lucky Strike) Si aproape folosind forta( dar sa nu exageram:))) m-a dus in Epoca Metalelor. Normal ca aveam idei preconcepute de genul " Epoca fecalelor" , dar am avut o surpriza maaaaaaare. Nu numai ca nu este asa de dark, moody , alternative, ( dar mai ales dark si urat mirositor; asa am auzit de la toti care trecusera pe acolo) , dar mi-a placut foooarte mult. Am baut o bere , am asculta muzica foarte buna, am fumat un Lucky Strike asa, for old times sake, si am vorbit despre ce s-a intamplat si despre ce o sa se intample (ha ha ha) . Asa am aflat ca my dear old friend pleaca in Anglia la concert Sex Pistols ( ooo that lucky bastard.....) si am avut parte de o lectie despre cum sa faci un Long Island Ice tea( my all time fave long drink:X) . Am avut o discutie in contradictoriu despre Sid Vicious....( era de asteptat; nu ca ar fi prima oara cand se intampla asta) si am vazut barbatul cu cel mai lung par ever:)))). Promit solemn ca voi reveni in epoca Metalelor. Voi lasa versurile unei melodii sa incheie acest post ."I wanna be anarchy ! The only way to be !"

To live or not to live?

2008-09-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

Monologul meu spinos, atat de adancit in abisul nemuririi, de un echilibru ce frizeaza miraculosul, pe care si zeii il invidiaza cu ale lor suflete criselefantine isi atinge luminosul apogeu. Marele final.Aplauze! Spectatorii mei fideli publicul ideal fara de care nici eu ,nici arta mea nu exista, pleaca.; si ramane teatrul gol si pe scena sunt doar eu , o biata masca, tocita de timp cu cel din urma ranjet glorios incremenit grotesc. Acum revin la ceea ce am fost menita sa fiu, simplu obiect de recuzita, in fundatura asta cu aer grosolan de cavou; si tot ce am iubit si ce am plans si ce am pierdut se reduce la plasticul din care am fost candva plamdita. Arta mea e minuscula, sparta in cateva recenzii ale ziarelor de provincie, ingramdita undeva intre anunturi matrimoniale si decese.Dar ce arta! Am fost Hamlet , Romeo, Tristan; am inflorit pluriform si exotic in mii de valente. Dar acum ,cand doliul asta blestemat imi este public, rolul meu, de nebun , de geniu, de salvator se sfarma, nu mai sunt erou de tragedie nici macar un umil amorez dintr-un cacat de melodrama; in fata mea sunt o minciuna, doar un mascarici.

People fade away with ages, memories never do.

2008-09-29T10:29:00.000-07:00

Este uimitor cum toamna scoate la iveala tot ce este autentic, la modul cel mai simplist , dar si cel mai profund: amintiri frumos impaturite, cu un usor iz de naftalina, trairi vechi, ca niste fotografii in sepia, toate adanc inmormantate in foitele subtiri, pluricelulare ale mintii. Mi se pare un real act de curaj sa privesti retrospectiv cu sinceritate si cu sufletul deschis, fara teama ca trecutul ar putea sa te tulbure. Jurnalul meu interior este putin botit, cu pagini incretite pe alocuri de vreo lacrima ratacita; cateodata este pueril, temator si exuberant, altadata arid, dureros si profund, dar acum este un melanj de apogee si depresii. Am retrait disperarea la limita irealului pe care am simtit-o cand am pierdut definitiv o persoana care era mai mult decat o proiectie a cotidianului, pe care reusisem (dupa perioade de ura tacuta, banal respect si un fel primitiv de iubire) sa o ridic la rangul de concept, o copie fidela a mintii mele. Am rascolit solul cerebral cu mai multa indarjire. Voiam sa gasesc Totul, sau persistenta Nimicului. Am dat peste momente de fericire antagonica realului , o fericire barbara, irationala , la limita durerii( si uite cum ii dau dreptate lui Rilke) . Sapand cu mainile goale in cea din urma palma de pamant, am gasit ceea ce cautam. O foaie alba, curata, matasoasa, pe care viitorul va scrie marea sa opera.