inside of the Brain Attack

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.

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

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.

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...

...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.

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.

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.