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.

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.

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...

...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.

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

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

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