Misconceptions of a demented rose...

Not that much...

2011-11-05T08:36:00.000-07:00

I'm sure i have a world of things to say and discuss; i'm sure just writing about them would make everything simpler and easier; i just don't know what to say right now or how to say it, for that matter. it might take some time. i haven't got much to say but i just chatting with anne rice on fb kinda makes want to smile.

Ghastly orange moon

2011-06-15T12:14:00.001-07:00

There's this ghastly orange moon outside, like some rotten peach, festering, ready to burst, much like my soul. My own body cannot contain such blind hate, despair and agony, all at once. It seems like apart from blind i've also been rather deaf to the people around be, to my own thoughts, to my own conscience. I feel beastly tonight, i feel like ripping apart flesh and feeding off the gory insides till i throw up rivers of blood. This is not the world i live in and i have no idea how i stumbled into this, how i began to feel ache, how i let my guard down so easily, how i got horribly screwed over because of it. I knew what i was doing here at one point, but it's somewhat hazy now, like a blurry memory from a long-forgotten dream. I'm not one for running from things, but in this case the choice is obvious. If i stay, i'll lose my mind in the process and there is no call for that. There's this part of me that's starting to surface, slowly, ever so slowly...it's the ice, the level-headedness, the sheer logic, the one that take matters into her own hands and makes decisions. The moon is rotting more and more by the second; soon half of it will be putrid and the other just sweet juiciness. Funny how sweetness is so close to revultion, how dream turns into nightmare and how the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. I look into the abiss and i see betrayal, jealousy, selfishness, i see the worst in him with every breathing second.
I will be my own undoing, or at least part of me, the stupid, gullible part. I stopped seing myself in the equation at one moment, i forgot i existed, i stopped being my own greatest passion. Such a dreadful mistake. i have nothing but contempt for myself, i deserve nothing better from myself, i should vacate my own body until otherwise instructed. The prospect of becoming an emotionless, lifeless, beautiful carcass doesn't seem to be such an awful prospect. Oblivion yet again, ignorance and absolute bliss. It worked fine every other time, so why should it fail me now. The mold and the rot is slowly drifting, subsided by stacks of ice and deep marshes. The tears have faded into a sly, elegant, yet ominous smile. The peach is fully rotten, but no longer a peach, it morphed into a glistening black poisonous fruit.

Defragmenting

2011-06-04T14:35:00.000-07:00

Tried crying today...didn't work. I tried drawing up tears from my every fibre, but...they wouldn't come. The feelings of helplessness and dread were overpowering, don't get me wrong, but... i simply couldn't do anything about it, i couldn't pull my mask off and just cry. I didn't realise it at first, it seemed like i had failed in something, like i couldn't control myself to do something, but, as i stood there, the world didn't sound like the place i was in, but something different, better, something loooooong gone. I congratulate myself at the end of this day for one harsh accomplishment: regaining my composure, my million discarded masks, my old double-edged self.
...
Red strawberry-stained fingertips, a pungent smell of decadent summer, huge 3-legged mosquito on my lamp...and it all feels so surreal, so out of place and, yet... mesmerizing. Matter-of-factly, i loathe growing up, realizing that very little of the world around me is quite how i envision it, but at least partly, here, in this bubble-gum town, everything somehow clicks and time freezes over. There's nothing different between the first paragraph and this one, just 3 days distance and geography, but this universe is like a breath of fresh air in this smoggy world. I wouldn't go back, but i hate having to accept the unacceptable, the disappointments and ... whoever it is you are that i don't know, and never really knew. The mosquito is gone now. Hope i'm not drained of blood by the time i finish this. My keyboard is a slightly pinkish hue at the moment, the water is dripping in the bathroom since i didn't go to the trouble of closing the tap properly, my hair is a mess of golden tangles, myself is at ease and happy; i know where this is going.

Momentum of nothing

2011-02-24T11:49:00.000-08:00

it's almost a shame, a damn shame to waste your time, to waste someone else's time, to waste time...time never to be had, time always craved and coveted, time long passed, time just passed, the past, the now, the momentum of every second you spend like you somehow own it. probably, not so often, but most of the time when you look back on things, hours are just massacred in futility and thoughts, ever so many, get lost in the process of neglect. there is somewhat of a revival in acknowledging things, there is infinite possibility in acting upon the acknowledgement, but sometimes i just yearn for things i don't truly or entirely want. getting something you didn't really bargain for leaves you with a weird metallic taste in your mouth, like chewing on too many silver coins, regardless of how nice they might be. i just want things for the sole purpose of having them without the implication of having to do something once i attain the object/person/desire in question. call me a hoarder, call me a collector, call me vain and insensitive and I'll revel in it. then again, give me time and i'll have trouble finding something to do with it. it goes without saying that i will end up doing something but just doing something is hardly time well spent, it's just a waste, and how i'd wish i'd have my own personal time with it's own flow, with a freeze here and there and a very big forward button to move me on to the next stage.

Muchness

2011-02-15T09:34:00.000-08:00

My essence is torn to shreds while i indulge in chocolate-coated almonds and revel in my present condition. i call it condition since it's mainly of a medical nature, aka my sinuses are practically clogged up, and it's giving me a frightfully delirious headache. somehow it escapes my consciousness how events are brought about, how they unravel, how and where exactly i play a part in them. something slow has started in me and... i find i have control over very few things nowadays, which is rather unsettling in my mental agenda. i require so many circumstances, i need so many things, so many people, so many words, so ...much. i think i need so much, because, as one Mad Hatter once put it " i may have lost my Muchness". As you get older you slowly become more afraid, more thoughtful, patient if you will...patient with impatient thoughts. Patient nonetheless. I miss the days when a book or a cup of coffee in the morning was the answer to all that was inherently wrong and out of sorts with the world. One never had moods or chills or thrills, swings or tantrums or outbursts, you worked with what you got while attempting to change the universe in the process. Anything can happen once you put your Mind and Muchness to it. It usually did and it still does...but the equation for now requires circumstances, so many loose ends that it looks like a miracle if something works out for the best.
Every now and then i catch a glimpse of myself...just thinking out-loud. I'm so dependent on so many people around me, i strive to please, to humour, to soothe, to comfort, to amuse, to enlighten, to act, to... do so much i'm practically exhausted by the time i should be having my afternoon tea. This, somehow, cripples the Muchness and there is never time enough to let it replenish. it's because it all keeps swirling in your brain, and as you world expands the swirl gets louder and louder and you'd rather be living in a tiny box.
However, by then, you'd be missing out on all the fun, like getting to see Gaga in an Egg-dress which might count as replenishment enough for the Muchness. My eyes are sore from the flu and the mascara, the dust outside, the wind, the cold, exhaustion. I never did give much thought to how they might feel, Muchness or no Muchness...

morning ... very mundane

2011-02-09T23:05:00.000-08:00

Dishevelled yawn for the better part of the past minutes, lingering to the display of the Google homepage ( i just find myself staring into it sometimes, for no apparent reason, but it does have some sort of calming, brain-debilitating, amnesic effect) trying to negociate myself over the pretentionsness of having to start over a new day. bleak, dreary and, all in all, plain boredom creeps over like so many misplaced thoughts of things i'm supposed to be doing, i.e. turning the better part of the world's tree supply to useless scrap papers for my insignifiant nerve-wrecking exams.

yoghurt and jasmine tee in hand i find myself in the same place as every morning, doing the same useless stuff, reading the obnoxious books... well this morning is a tad on the different side of things, since i'm not in bed and i've had the audacity of starting up my laptop so as to prevent myself from falling asleep ( to be quite honest, i have not the slightest idea why i need to sleep, or my body yearns it so - things would go so much smoother without it, though i do now of diverging opinions on the matter).

so... not much more that i can stand my brain dripping in slow freezing droplets onto my neck and having to partake in the whole process. i think i want to x-ray a neuron just so i could kill it in a different way.

how the hell did it....?

2010-12-07T09:40:00.000-08:00

you were the very last exception i was willing to give the world up for...for what? For nothing. there is a single shred of smoke that slips into nothingness, sounds so shrill they tear the earth apart, one sorrowful gasp to express the ordeal, the void and mostly...the space you failed to fill. why would it matter if i trampled over my good nature, if, just this once, i was more like you... if the sky crumbled at your feet. i see not, i hear not, i smell not, i taste not, i feel not...i love not. there is nothing worth loving and the rest is all a huge disappointment. no one is entitled to such a grand display of affection, not even me. i know that much, it's just that my vision gets blurry at times, it gets "blinded" by the shining of siblings such as you, of mirrors, of...disappointments. The world is undeserving and unfortunately you're part of it with all your flaws and imperfections. i want to disappear from your life forever, so nothing could evoke a question or a thought, no memories, no years, no me.

incoherence

2010-09-26T14:22:00.000-07:00

i cried my share in oceans yesterday, i sobbed, i sighed, i bellowed, i despaired, i stopped existing, if only for a few seconds in a hallway, collapsed on the floor, dripping mascara that stains carpets and perceptions. dark tears that stained the very fabric of my soul and its underlying reality. the experience is like being drained of any drop of life lingering in my body, like having wings chopped off with an axe...bloody feathers stuck to its blade while i shout in relentless pain and insanity the realization of the loss, the absurdity of such a state, the absence of...you. regardless of the effort i put into wording it, the more it seems impossible to convey this dreaded ambiguity of what i feel so that you might understand... i think i tore myself up in another million pieces, to add to the other millions... so much so i fail to the substance in my existence. i need a sack of pieces... could you spare some?

drunken daze of a sunburnt beat

2010-07-28T09:34:00.001-07:00

some things in life need to be documented, for various reasons, such as: further reference or "let's not screw it up the way we did last time", fond memories or "how you promise yourself you'll never sleep in a car again" and personal notes to self or "fuck! i drank again to the point where i can't remember my own name". one such eventful and amusing experience was our weekend trip to the seaside. seemingly, we planned it down to a tee, 2 weeks in advance, but since this sort of thing never really works out, we went with the flow...and what a flow it was! mood swings from ecstasy to agony every hour, on the hour, from filthy rich to flat broke and then some, from dancing next to the trunk of the car to a literal crowd as far as the eye could see, but one thing we never missed and abundant and great it was...music. so much music, you could satisfy entire worlds for a few days, car music, beach music, after music, liberty music, kudos music, water music, optick music, sleeping music, house music... elevator music??? maybe, dunno - must have been there somewhere.

needless to say we had our share of troubles and mishaps, our string of misfortunes, but everything just slips by when you can complain about to each other about how a iron fence fell flat on your alcohol-enhanced head or how you could never find an ATM when you badly need one. frankly i miss lying on the beach and bathing in live music, i miss being so drunk i crave to eat a box of skittles, i miss getting upset and angry for a full 2 seconds... btw, were you ever going to change that t-shirt? u'r wearing it in 90% of the pictures :))

heat sweat dust plaster

2010-06-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

a day of heat, sweat and dusty plaster, which seems to be indefinitely embodied in my lips, just as you are. no matter how i try i can never truly do anything - meaningful that this - more than a sweet calming voice. it doesn't really help, does it? how can i metaphorically put this hopelessness into words?

at times, it feels like we're worlds apart, so distinct, so far away, and yet i can almost reach you, i can almost make out your troubles...i just wish i could do something - i'd conjure a measure of perfection embodied in blue to wisk you away to what you might envision as carefree carelessness on a distant island in an alternate telepathical universe.

...in slightly emotional, undisrupted, contemplative pieces i feed my soul on the truth in your lies. neverending, this solipsistic outlook which overshadows the desire of simple unreality consumed by affixed nothingness. don't bother ...no need is fulfilled by mere presence and the blissful ignorance i solemnly preach.

what do i call thee...?

2010-06-11T03:41:00.000-07:00

i fiddle here alone with a fragment of my own consciousness, amids secular trees, iron railings and the soft indistinct voice of a mellow corner of nature, but, one can't help but notice - faintly, that's true -, the shrill high-pitched call of a car alarm going off somewhere in the distance. and so, my solitude is drained away by a single phone call, by the presence of them... i take comfort in delusion and fascinating insanity, the kind you surrender yourself to completely, with no remorse, no regard, no trouble, no idea, devoid of reality, of rationality into, what i call, my blissful ignorance. i loathe the very idea of what escaped my lips, deflected by the crisp watery surface in the dead of night, of how i broke and bended, of how i couldn't contain that monstrous lame excuse for a soul - i keep a heavy rusted brass lock on and tie up in chain on the recessed of a would-be conformity. i don't conform, you see, i never truly use my emotions to get what i want and i'm not even sure it would work if i tried to. it just gets so tiring at times to fight atrociously long never-to-be-won battles. i take this great pleasure in trying to achieve the impossible, for i see myself as maybe more than i am, giving myself credit for something i may never do, something unattainable, something only a fool might embrak on. the fool, the arlequin, the lovely, charming, mezmerising, beautiful, gripping, humorous, perfect little character i strip off when i'm here alone. i allow myself to be selfish on a piece of paper, i can articulate how much i hate whining people, the attention seekers, the extorsioners, the ones that have to constantly remind you of what they did for you, how much they love and suffer, how wonderful they are, how much credit they deserve for listening to you. i can only see this as something so selfish, it cannot stand to be put into words, something so inherently human. so despicable, so incumbersome, something you always fall for, because i do too...stupid of us, and you know it. if i tried explaining it you, if i actually had the guts to say it to your face - how it makes sence to me - you might agree, but, then again, i know you'd hate me for it - you can't really see it. that doesn't really count for anything, it won't matter, because things never actually change for me, i never change my feelings. you can read my thoughts, but i'd love it if you could x-ray my soul and weep at the sight of its fragile deformity.

displaced, misplaced, replaced

2010-05-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

do you have any idea what it feels like?...the very question beaming from your eyes, a question unuttered, but profoundly there, burning your every nerve, rotting away your cells, eating at your sanity - the sheer hopelessness of it all, the one moment of clarity...this too shall pass. as a matter of fact, i do. i know that pain ever so well, i've watched it morph me into a human wreck, i've suffered in despair, but no one ever knew. i masked it so well and so do you. trouble is, now, i long for you, you suffer too and this thing can't be fixed. it's elementally flawed, each of us has this little army of skeletons cramped inside a closet too small to fit such burdens, such dramas, so many things unspoken. what we wish for is the impossible, the unreachable, the destined, the perfect, the match, but that which is never to come to pass...for literally unexplainable reasons. i can never mash them up and put them into a sentence, but it all makes such crystal clear logic in my head. you see, that's the problem really, uttering the ideas strips them of their wholeness, their integrity, their structure. why can't we try for what's within our grasp each and every day and willing, but not considered? ...i'll trow the withered flowers into the garbage bin and i will have forgotten all about how much i love you by tomorrow. probably you will have gotten back to you ol'jolly self again by next morning...i'm just hoping here for the inevitable, for we all revert to the undying state sooner than later.

2010-04-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

how easily the world is broken, how feeble the castle of cards, how absolute the reprochfulness, how distinct the way your voice trembles, the despair resounding with his every pounding on the walls of the drawbridge. she is trapped in her tower, alone in the dark, croching under every shout and bellow, useless, powerless, thoughtful... misses them, the happy bunch, the carefree, the loveable, the incomparably hillarious - which he could be a part of, he's like them. never going to force anyone into anything, undecided crystal-clear deceitfulness. craving to hear the voice, melting at the memory of it, crumbs of indistinct solitude, creeping icy heartache. i want to be left alone, but with you comforting me, i want to run away with you chasing my tracks to the ends of the world, i want to cry my heart out for you wounds, but never speak a words about it, i want to heal every broken fiber of your soul, but not knowing it was me and i never want you to love me - it would only ruin things and you'd stop being perfect.

no need to cry

2010-03-24T03:08:00.000-07:00

middle weak coughing wednesday sunny chlorine morning. paint scorched off blood-shot byork trembling walls and how i'm seemingly so uninvolved and peaceful. sure, the swings of the pendulum are uneavenly balanced and this quaint equilibrium may crumble to fire consuming dust in your absence. that's why my consciousness dictates my permanence in the shell of this uneasy sanctum. i'll recall this time later on as a new stage, troublesome, hillarious, lively, no pretence, no need, not having to care since nothing could dissociate this slumbering memory from my future temporal lobe. jazz on the sidewalk of the table kitchen, smouldering pavement under the thumping of the unusual marching-band:me, you, you, us, they, them... saxophones, pianos, trumpets and soulful voices. like a sun won't you come...and brighten my eyes to the unreflected deflection of surreptitiousness. i unfold my smoky wings over stratospheric shouting...listen and stop pouting, infinite disapproval and remorse could clutch at your heart and expiate your sins. these rays banging on glass, curtains, your retina.

in bucatarie...

2010-03-10T07:43:00.000-08:00

frightful damp cold weather out there, fish odour and mushroomy undertones in here... business management related disputes that contrive to induce a fragrant dissention of the profoundly incompetent underlings. so here starts the 6 PM dinner ritual, evidently backed up by a severe discontent in primal misjudgement of character. this all seems so atrociously still, like a picture-perfect statement that this should be heavily imprinted in memory.

intermission

few hours later, same location, different posture...liver thawing and slowly decomposing into maroonish meaty grains in a pile of blood-shot water. and amongst potatoe peelings, strange as it may seem, while quaffing down cherry soda, in the backround of the hitting keyboard, i find myself in the midst of a sort of quarelling "family" of dearest beings - so baffeling the concept of living with two guys: they fight, they argue, the discuss, they're logical and yet unawares of themselves, they accept and never ask questions, they inferr the obvious, but in a subtle way, they... are, somewhat, carefree.

i so wish you wouldn't stirr so madly, like life depended on chicken livers...like change is possible and doctors could show up in the most unusual places. never underestimate, never disregard, never adhere to a premise you don't intend to live up to.

abruptly with no regard for consequences

2010-03-08T05:27:00.000-08:00

Indisputable lack of sleep adorned by the lack of your interest in me
inspires selfmorphing so as to incinerate your sences and then drown
them in a pool of my distorted consciousness. I was pondering the idea
of us and it seems to me so improbable and abstract, no matter how
much I strife to entrance you, maybe because of this huge gap in
time...we met too late, but even this is better than no meeting at
all. And you're so different from anyone else I've met before...you
don't fall for the tragedy I'm capable of or my perfect damsel act, so
you've forced me to be myself around you because you won't have
anything less than my original self.
And so you left one cold dark December morning...too early in the
morning. I was somewhere on the borderline of sleep and delusion and I
pleaded with you not to leave. It's snowing out there now, above
ground, above my frozen bewilderment. I wonder, is it snowing where
you are? Can you stand the blistering cold degrading your skin or the
snowflakes dying of the hopelessness of having met you?

i do not presume to be, i am...

2010-02-09T13:57:00.000-08:00

difficult to say what hell's fury is compared to my own emotions... ever get the feeling you're hearing metallic sounds, like a door closing, like music out of a grain of iron, like my mind going epileptic from the insatiable lust for suffering reduced to unattainable fairlytales? i don't think i've ever told you that what i want out of life is the fairytale, the impossible, the surprise, the sweeping off my feet, the sparkle in the eyes, battling the bad guys to make me feel better, flowers for no possible reason when i wake up in the morning, my favourite songs one after the other, pick me up and dance with me in the rain or snow, romance me out of my consciousness and then pin me against a wall like you're out to destroy every bone in my body and drain life and thought from my soul.

i do not presume to be, i am... the most wonderful thing on the face of the netherworlds, i am dark and obtrusive, i am devious and scheming, i am jealous and mean, i ...well, i could do horrible things if only i didn't love everything around so much. the most horrible specter of my being is in so in love with this world, it can scorn, but never harm it. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds... it might seem ghastly presumptuous, but i have a photo of everyone when i first met them. i know the colours, i can trace the light and the shadows, i know the place and most importantly you were there... no idea where i'm going with this.

Never-changeling

2009-09-15T14:38:00.000-07:00

the truth is that there is no absolute truth, or so we love to believe. our wretched human hearts thrive on being proven wrong, they even hope for it...the fait glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe things are not as they seem, as everyone else sees them...but different. even more so, we love to find the best parts in someone and hope they truly exist and that is why, even if they do not exist...our motto may very well be: We shall invent! So, invent we do. subsequently, we come up with such distorted notions of those close to us, we come to hold them in such high regard and, most of all, are esteemed to be in the very vicinity of their presence, that one outside might believe we are bloody mad. and so we are. Madmen so enamoured with dreams and hopes and wishes, we curtain our view of the world, we take out our own eyes being firmly convinced that empty sockets and a great heart serve the purpose of sight so much better.
so, we proceed throughout this existence blindfolded, grabbing for walls, creeks and cracks, alongside our opulently adorned ideals in the form of people. along the way we are so thrilled of what we believe we have, that we fail to notice the way we're pushed aside, shoved in a corner, disregarded, ignored, trampeled on by these elemental beauties and we, in our own turn, push aside anyone that might try to remove our blissful blidfold. (I only take pity in the form of ruby-red blood dripping eyes)
after a few such experiences, our sences leave us, our strength leaves us, our own life leaves us, but we rejoyce, for this morphed self is all the better to serve our grand illusions. we are left walking carcasses, with beating hearts and no egos, blind and barely dragging our sorry selves near the masion that now houses our beloved "mirrors" - but not simply mirror people, but mirrors of distorted reality and vision, of broken dreams, mirrors of people that will never exist and whose true reflection we may never gaze upon, since our eyes are no longer in our posession. we sold them for the gilded frame adorning our mirrors.
i posess eyes, but they are locked away in a silver box
i posess a soul, but it's locked away in your mirror
i have a voice, but it will only sing for you
i have these lips, but they exist only for the glassy surface of your mirror
so, i press their transience to the cold-cut glass and leave no marks.
i will leave you now, and take that box to serve as mine eyes
i will need no voice, for i have a quill and ink is never far away
i require no lips, for there is noone they can touch
i required no soul, for i need not anymore illusions
but, i shall first break thy image and thy mirror
never to gaze into one ever again.

posh totty...

2009-09-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

now there's a concept worth writing about and adopting to the core. the sheer feel and sound of the words make my skin tingle and my lips bleed with excitement, as the idea is, somewhat, definitory to what i, myself, hope to achieve. nonetheless, i'm more than aware that most, if not all, of you haven't the slightest clue as to what it means sooo...you can just google it, but i thought i'd save you people the trouble:

posh totty: Male or female totty whose poshness is an essential part of the appeal e.g. well educated; mellifluous voice; charming classy manners; sophisticated conversation; expensive clothes; trendy address, etc.

there you have it. now, truthfully, isn't this worth striving for? doesn't it make you quiver and fantasize of the possiblities? and, in spite of this, many might consider this as a fancy and politically correct term for "high-class hooker", something in the area of Belle de Jour, if you're familliar. i couldn't really disagree with the idea totally, but there's still something there that prevents you from scorning it in any way, it's just to elegant and blissfully decadent in its unattainable charm.
the Americans invented the "stripper glamazone" raging into battle to conquer the masses, but leave it to the Brits to come up with something as luring as posh totty; this is not the definition for a person, it's for something with the appeal-power of the sun, the charm of a snake, and the graciousness of a cobra-lily.

Post-traumatic vain apologies

2009-05-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

I know I'm being a resentful bitch and so angry and spiteful it's hard
for you to keep up and I hurt you, the you I know and love, the you
who was sorry, the you who cares, but I couldn't stop myself because
somehow I felt betrayed and alone. I still don't know for sure if you
care or not and to what extent and this is no apology since I don't
know what I want from you and you already apologized beforehand. I'm
fully aware that this is going to sound cruel , but I guess I wanted
to hear you suffer even though I would never wish to see you sad and
I'd do anything to prevent it...but it's just so hard sometimes to
keep track because I fall into the equation and I hate suffering so
much as well and I don't want to end up crying even though I already
did for putting on that stupid show with you. I just realised I could
talk to no one else about it but you and I had just thrown you away in
an ego fit. Sad, isn't it? Ironic really and that choking feeling I'm
getting again because I miss you and that's the truth.

His response:

i know u wanted to make me suffer and i know that in ur deep little black heart u want to feel that u are on top of me, that u are the only one who can reach those emotinons, deeply embeded im my soul, emotions that are never shown upfront to anyone... but u. the fact that i didnt do smth that i promised made u suffer, so u wanted me to suffer too, u wanted to return the favor and ur big ego wanted to hear me feel remorse and sadness. u wanted to make sure and on top of that u wanted to hear me saying that im sorry. and not just hearing it, but wanted to make sure that i meant it. u sure did that, and i have fallen for that one but it has passed... i was sure that crying was the next thing u would do... but i couldnt do a thing to prevent that, i did try though... wasnt enough i see... we`ll talk tomorrow, and this is quite nothing but i still dont like and feel rested upton this little ego war... its quite damaging for both of us... u felt replaced... that is the real thing u worried about, inside... but i want to make sure that it is not the case here... and u know that very well... u just have to be sure of it.... but because i rarely show my emotions u just couldnt know :)

ego god has replied :d

in need of attention - desperately, NOW!

2009-04-22T21:43:00.001-07:00

why do i have to fight and argue with people and generally be something labelled as a "self-centered bitch", but one that has moral dilemmas? i never intend on being mean with the people i love (and they are truthfully so very few, i think i'm a bit of an oddity on this planet), and no one ever does, it just happens and mostly for all the wrong reasons or due to something so trivial that, somehow, just got on my nerves at that particular time. maybe it's something even i did at times, maybe i'm just trying to find excuses for those around whom i love so much, i can't bare the idea of them hurting me on purpose - which i'm sure they never did, and neither do i, but things just happen and we get so worked up over stupid little moments like: "u didn't talk to me" - after spending the better part of an hour on the phone, "u snapped and had a harsh tone" - regardless of how tired u must be, "u didn't answer" - was sleeping.... or other such simpleminded, hillarious "jokes" that kinda bug u at times. frankly, i don't see why i even mind stuff like that, or am i just expecting those around me to be the embodiment of pleasantry and good-will at all times? it's not like any of this makes sence, it's just probably one of our ways of saying "in need of attention - desperately, NOW!", a.k.a be more considerate than u possibly thought in ur power to be :))).

maybe i'm over-idealizing, either myself or those around me and all of this is just supposed to happen, maybe quarrels are a must in order not to be horribly bored with those around, maybe i'm being over-dramatic and reading too much into something purely stupid, stupid 1, stupid 2... or maybe there's a guilt i can't bare to live with, something i did, something i said, the way i acted... all wrong and overemotional and spreading resentment. i have no idea if this is an apology for what happened, or for everything that ever happened and i stopped remembering, but i just know i despise myself when i have to act like that, when people can't even stand my presence, when, usually, - like 90% of the time - u don't mind and just grab my arm and take me out of the bitter gutters without my noticing. i'm not aware of time when i started needing help, or became dependent, and i still don't know how to act, how to be thankful, how to notice, how not to get upset with people for just trying. honestly now, i forgive my computer every time he throws a tantrum, and it's made out of bloody plastic :))

i have no idea what this is...but i gotta start somewhere

2009-02-16T11:16:00.000-08:00

i've been meaning to get back to writing a post for such a long time i can hardly remember everything i want to talk about. it's just so funny how you can remember stuff when you've got a lot of free time on your hands; take for example that fact that i could see what music you were listening to simply by looking at your status a while back... it's been so very long since then, it seems i've lived a thousand lives and died and got resurrected and things have changed for me. i now live somewhere else, tot cu miki dar si cu alina d data asta...and more often than just occassionally u're there too, cleaning out the fridge, fighting with me, helping with a puzzle, watching a movie, doing homework, having pizza before an exam. gosh these have been some full months, and i've made those mistakes i promised myself i wouldn't do...but still did...so i repend... going to make things better. sure of it. asa si trebuie sa ma apuk si d un sport si mai am d citit tot gormenghast-ul (which is a whole lot) and well... i wanna go back cuz i'm bored here.

have you ever thought about the idea that all demons are incredibly beautiful and alluring and not one of them ugly or mishapen?

happy weed people

2008-06-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

in every limb, and every fiber, every bone and every joint ... i feel this tingling, like one thousand little ants crawling in beneath my skin, fuzzy, frenzied and ever so desperate for a moment's peace. it's hard to explain really, why sleep doesn't work, why this numbness is perpetual and why the idea of cutting off some flesh is simply due to the fact that you're wondering if by any chance you might feel something... even pain would be good now, it would be something, compared to this blissfully obliviant state of affairs, that kinda sorta reminds me of the expression "brain-dead" (i can just see it now: the fluffy bunny wabbit as road kill, such a poshy concept). either way, it's been one smoky day, in every sence of the word, and the cloudiest part of it all were my mental-functions, calm, cool and extremely slow at times, so i've no bloody idea how i managed to pass an 8 o'clock in the morning examen in the character of a woozy pot-head with tingling sensations.

flashback - late last night/early...scratch that, veeery early this morning, kinda like 3 30 or so, in a 3 sqare feet laudry room, 2 washing machines, an improvised bong, lots of tobacco and a set of happy weed people. i don't know why but what i have learned due to fairly recent experience is that putting 2 relatively smart and creative people in a room with weed, can be a serious problem. sigur nu o sa se sperie de clanta, si nu o sa vada iepurashi, sherpishori sau voluntari antidrog, dar sigur o sa se autodistruga si timp de 10 minute dupa, o sa aiba o viteza si o dexteritate in a-si acoperi urmele comparabile doar cu ei inshisi. still, the experience was something to be coughing your lungs out after for days on end. so ...can you feel you back burning, the bed trembling from beneath you, a strange sound like pages turning in the dark, but actually feet and blankets, bellowing dogs, something that smells like my perfume but is actually coffee and the fridge, maybe your perfume sometimes this morning, maybe the smoke which is blue, maybe a joint feet-flung in the air dress joint sickness twiggie maria type issue.

the most interesting feeling is the morning after, when, supposedly your friends draw your sorry blank stare look back to gravitational earth, by telling you that you can't focus your eyes on anything properly. probably this is the same feeling i have after a fully-equipped alcohol party, and the numbing senzation that attaches itself brutally to your body, so that no food, or drink, or smoke or body can quench that superflous tingle that will eventually choke you.

ps: nici un iepurash sau sherpishor nu au fost vatamati in decursul acestui post, ei pur si simplu sunt in sectia de reanimare, intr-o coma sinistru de placuta.

sufocare...

2008-06-02T20:51:00.000-07:00

detest sa am o criza de proasta dispozitie in public, sa ma expun sub lupa fiecaruia, sa fiu vulnerabila, sa afli din prima ca ceva e in neregula cu mine. intotdeauna m-a deranjat expunerea unei stari de nelinishte interioara incerta in fata celor din jurul meu, tocmai pentru ca am avut senzatia ca arata ca un strigat disperat demn de mila, o ingenunchere in fata lumii si acceptarea inferioritatii existentiale, de parca tocmai ar fi crescut lana pe mine si nu am facut decat sa ma alatur oilor ce impanzesc lumea. am teribila idee in neuronii mei inca vii ca, oricat de rau as fi, oricat de intolerabila este bula mea interioara de sapun, o sa imi aleg o alta masca vesela, ce se simte bine, ce nu poate fi atinsa de angoasa din jur, si mai mereu mi-a ieshit, iar daca nu imi iesea eram ori departe de orice forma de socializare ori in prezenta cuiva care a devenit si ea familie si prin asta cred ca spun totul, deci familie. tragic este ca aceasta senzatie ma doboara acum, o resimt acum si scriu despre ea pentru ca asta e motivul pentru care scriu: eliberare, iau totul si il revars p hartie/blog si ramane akolo consemnat si se pierde din mine, desi nu e intotdeauna asha. nu vreau sa ma intelegi gresit, dar nu sunt genul care se retrage intr-un colt sa planga si sa isi taie venele, oricat de trendy ar fi asta, tocmai pentru ca nu imi permite conditia. daca si eu ma refugiez de mine si incep sa iti arat cu ochii tristi si goi ca sufar, atunci ce rost mai are sa fiu eu cea care ti-a ridicat moralul, kre a putut sa fie puternica pentru sine si pentru altii, care a putut sa zambeasca si sa treaca cu vedere, sa se modeleze dupa tine ca valurile unei oglinzi. totusi astazi ma sufoc, azi nu mai respir aer ci propria cenusa prin combustie spontana, o cenusa toxica, ce ma inunda, ce se depune strat dupa strat dupa strat, o simt cum ajunge pana in degete, o simt pe piele, ma arde si senzatia e ca nu mai pot sa respir, ma sufoc si nu shtiu de ce. habar nu am de ce am ales cuvantul asta: ma sufoc, dar exact asta simt, si daca s-a observat e groaznic pentru ca pe asta nu avut cum sa o tin in mine, nu am avut cu ce sa o ascund, nu era pregatita, pentru ca ... habar nu am ce e, si totusi shtiu ca e manifestarea fizica a exact ceea ce refuz sa accept in mod constient, a ceea ce ma macina. si tousi shtiu ca am lasat la un moment dat o parte din propriul aer undeva, sau la cineva, sau in cineva, shtiu ca am facut o pauza prelunga si am uitat sa respir, pana cand zgomotul realitatii m-a trezit si m-am sufocat de caldura si de atunci ma tot sufoc, si vreau sa pun capul jos si sa adorm shtiind ca nu trebuie sa imi fac griji, ca o sa fie cineva care sa ma trezeasca, ca o sa pot sa fiu utila, ca o sa trec intr-o toropeala placuta de vara si sa nu mai pun intrebari, sa nu ma mai vezi asa, pentru ca shtiu cat de greu de indurat este sa vezi pe cineva in starea asta. si cu asta sper sa pun punct, sa trec pe functie pulmonara normala, sper sa nu mai arda nimic, sper sa se spulbere atmosfera gri, sper sa nu uiti ce ai zis...

Actually, darling, everything is beautiful. Including you. Especially you. Have you lost weight?

2008-05-19T10:26:00.000-07:00

I am troubled today
I am beyond myself with the excitement of you
I wish you did not have to move your alabaster skin
Take me into your skin
What is it like...being you, love?
Why do our worlds collide ever so often
But never, not for a second , does time stop ?
In between two perfect seconds
In between such two perfect creatures
Why do we decorate the world?
Nobody can descry my soul from ours
Nobody can vanquish us from our garden
...the world is our garden
We decorate it like beautiful bronze statues gleaming in the sunlight
Frozen in the moonlight
Untouchable.
Romance me out of my oppulent world
From beyond the castle walls of my insanity
Let us flee into the night surrounded by ourselves
Let us leave these broze statues do be adorned in sweet contemptous silence
Let they be our single legacy for the gutter star-gazing world.
I pant at the very door of your consiousness,
My heart throbbing against the heavy shackles laced with rust
Which bind immortality within thyne hollow mirror;
And
though my bellowing resounds like shry gasps against your wings
and every pitch-black feather , every string
lingers in frigid await
the whole contraption would not move but for an eclipse,
the apocalise
the death and the impossibility of death of itself.
This you is unmovable, it partains to the mineral, the statuesque
And yet... and yet...
It vibes,
...I vibe, and vibe i do within you
And with me every frill of torn-out lace that was once my dress,
Every sparkle clinging desperately to the sickle-shoes,
Every beating eyelash which fraims these black tears from my eyes.
Alas! He turn his gaze upon my silfid corpse, lying
Dying
Staring at him
Pleading
On the chess-board tiles of this happy coincidence.
Won’t you let my blood pour over these tiles? Wouldn’t...
Your ego be satisfied with the aesthetics of the colours...
of the flow?
Pouring,
drenching every curtain high and low? Drenching your very hands,
the alabaster limbs, in this cold
stone-cold fluid vapor that embelishes sence and though;
how enraptured are thou by me? So very much so that, so not so and yet...
so...No... enthralled by the languid and rapacious hell
that we share. Let us flee into the abyss;
no one would ever fear our passion for our own artistically distorted ...seflessness

Prohodul...and the dude with the glasses

2008-04-25T13:16:00.000-07:00

vinerea mare....yet again...trecut p sub masa....prohod...the gang...biserica... ei asta e un pic deferita...i mean, in fiecare an mergem la catedrala sa trecem p sub masa, si dupa la slujba d seara cand eu imi petrec timpul de altfel relativ plictisitor holbandu-ma la un tip, suuuper dragutz cu ochelari kare seama cu chester (LP). da shtiu k nu e tocmai ...evalvios din partea mea...dar makar imi concentrez atentia p cva si nu ii deranjez p cei din jur, pana cand incepem efectiv sa cantam. ok, problema a fost ca odata cu demolarea a 70% din catedrala.... cand am venit la prohod nu aveam unde sa stam la prohod...si probabil nici nu aveam la c prohod sa stam....tipu era akolo frumos la coada de trecut p sub masa....k in fiecare an...si noi....noi nu aveam sa mai fim aici, ci la alta biserica. chestia asta a fost foarte interesanta, ptr k intr-un fel a simbolizat plekarea noastra la bucuresti, din pctul meu d vedere, faptul k traditia, desi am vrut, nu s-a pastrat, k desi lucrurile nu s-au schimbat prea tare si ne asteapta, noi nu mai suntem akolo...dar nici kiar departe, doar la o alta "biserica" :)) tipul totusi era akolo...and i kinda missed staring at him ...weird how terribly awkward this might sound to most of the world's population :))

How does it feel to be one of the beautiful...?

2008-03-08T11:52:00.000-08:00

really now....how does it feel to be one of the beautiful? how does it feel to be stared at...? gazed at...? devoured by luscious hungry eyes? ... the object of perfect lust for complete strangers? and how perfectly narcissistic and shallow is this goal ? veeeeery.... i know... but now....try and picture all this times two... twice as antagonistic... twice as vain and luscious... twice as debauched... so perfectly twice in twice. Besides being surrounded by "mongrels" who u look down on like insignificantly insignificants, besides the air of cherry smoke enveloping the monocromes, besides all this is just dancefloor sex and nothing more. why is it that we love being the object of such desire and yet seem so unreachable to mere mortals? what do you feel like when u see such two beings putting on a show, a display of themselves, a display of incomprehensible antithesis ... a display of iresolute power over the weak-spirited? Does it plunge you into despair, does it purge you of any drop of normality and morality left in you?...well, does it?
ok, now, apart from the thrilling aestheticly-philosiphical aspect.... why do the spur-of-the-moment things turn out to be the best? why does planning ahead never really work out the way you think it will? so... after so much trouble with fate and the tragic forces of ancient Greece trying to turn your life to chaos why not go with the flow, why not live that moment as if it could be your last...why not get in a car and go wherever you decided to just a second ago? this is what you'd call carpe diem and it usually turns out to have the most unexpected results...generally good ones...and never make plans to get up early in the morning for you shall only fail to do so...you can just wake up eventually and realize that nothing of significant magnitude happened while ...asleep.
this post was implicity white and explicitly black, because they are twice as better together ...

just a pretty face...

2008-02-18T13:59:00.000-08:00

in seara asta...am avut o conversatie interesanta cel putin, cu a best-friend, totul pornind d la nishte comentarii si invitatii sa nu zik "perverted" but just a tad over the obsessive line. anywayz problema se punea in felul urmator: la o prima vedere, pur simplu dintr-o perspectiva estetica (*fizic vorbind), c eshti pentru cei din jur? raspunsul relativ ushor d apreciat: a good-looking piece of meat...or a down-right "wouldn't want to fuck him"-kinda person. so..let's see, i have been under this impression for quite some time, r u a good fuck? kam asta e standardul dupa kre apreciem persoanele - fie ele d sex opus sau nu, ptr k Da suntem cu totii bi, k sa fie clar. orice s-ar spune cu mult inainte sa apuci sa deschizi gura and even utter the simplest hello, esti catalogat si lucrurile sunt extraordinar d simple...1. vreau sa il/o fut; 2. ...maybe with a touch here and there....maybe, until then friends; 3. definitely friends, no more.... 4. Nooooo Way! Ce mi se pare amuzat la toata aceasta situatie e k in timp perceptia se schimb dramatic, pana la un 180 grade, datorita personalitatii "atractive", sa-i zicem sau....as opta eu pentru:Obishnuintza. God save us from it, ptr ca sincer ne altereaza gandirea in asa hal incat orice simt al esteticii se atrofiaza in adancul ei. ceea c ieri ni se parea ok, azi ni se pare sublim....Si ne mai intrebam d c oare ceilalti nu vad asta ? kand primim, din exterior, o remarca d genu: dar arata k draq! tu nu vezi?

din aceasta categorie fac parte o gramada d prieteni, cunoshtiitze ...even best friends i'd say. so what if the people around r good-looking? what if ur world is so exceptionally oscar wilde-ish and, despite, our living in the gutter, we can't help but look at the stars? what would it be ...a great friend...or a good fuck? what r we to choose? do we actually choose? inevitabil observ cum in anumite grupuri amoralitatea, vanitatea, estetica si placerea sunt pur si simplu k nishte linii dintr-un tablou, isi pierd relevanta in context, si nu se definesc decat prin sine k o pleiada d non-sensuri. si tocmai d aceea astfel d oameni sunt atat d siguri d ei, si se cunosc atat d bine incat oricare ar fi inaltimea d la care s-ar arunca ar ateriza in picioare. any experience, any taste, any sip is a mere...momentary pleasure...and trivial aftermath to them. Only the shallow know themselves.
incet incet ajung la diverse concluzii.....k in jurul meu se contureaza o societate in care orice notiune se dezbraca complet d sens...until it remains an empty carcass. layer after layer after layer...ideea d prieten, amic, iubit, one-night stand, whatever else there is....nu exista in stadiul pur. totul se imbina in incercarea d a creea ceea c multi vad k fiind o monstruozitate....o androgenitate bazata p perfectiune... o depravare atat d dulce incat iti vine sa t afuzi pana simti k nu mai ai aer....k fumul e prea gros...k alcoolul si-a pierdut orice gust si efect... k te-ai saturat d trupurile din jurul tau ... dar glasurile fiecaruia iti rasuna k o melodie veche in ureche. sunt foarte putini kre am vazut k pot fi capabili sa accepte asha cva, sa accepte sa se ofere lumii din jur ....fara implicare, fara remuscari, fara sentiment... Implicarea naste tragedii, sentimentul naste suferinta, remuscare naste fantasme....the only way of getting rid of a temptation is to yield to it, otherwise it will haunt and posess ur very soul.
so.... what are? are we friends? lovers? enemies? ... do we exist for eachother, or is this a flick? i have no idea if life is supposed to be vulgar and aesthetic, sumptuous and debauched... but i simply hope it doesn't turn out to be dull and excessively friendly.

The valentine’s memorial....

2008-02-15T06:03:00.000-08:00

When u die, i’ll cover every mirror. What point would they have? I hate seing my crying face, your crimson shade, ourselves as we were and never have been. I hate reflections now that u died. My tears have no reflection. They just don’t exist. They never did and never will because everything is not fine, because i am not myself and nothing more than an empty shell, i long for what u made me into, you and everyone else, u made me the way i am ... you died. I died along with you. How can creation outlive the creator? How can i be when i have nothing to reflect? There is no one to reflect anymore, i might as well be air, i might as well be the wind, i might as well... cover u too my beloved valentine. Could u die for me, so i see what it feels like? So i see what a corpse is like, so i see myself as alone forever. Could u please dig deep into the rotting earth and crawl underneath that dampness, just stay there with urself, just be eaten alive by urself... just have no mirror to look into. That’s why i covered all the mirrors. Because u died, and ur beauty died with you. U need no mirror. U need a black casket, u need blooming white orchids, u need satin lining, u don’t need me. There would be no room for me. There would be no place for my torn self, my torn wings. Because i’ll never leave them u see... the wings you tore out violently when i decided i’d be urs in yet another masochistic outburst. The sweet pain, the excrushiating pain...the pain u see...i get a thrill...the hurt...i longed for it...i wanted you to have me as ur own, and throw me aside, and have me again, and throw me again, and again, and again, and again...until i quiver at the very sound of you, at the very idea that you are near, until i crawl on the floor and beg you to slash me, because i’m urs, and i wish to be noone else’s, and wish to die by ur hand and no other...since i belong to u. So don’t u dare die, don’t you dare leave me alone...don’t die on me. That is my only wish...
whisper...whisper...your tongue to my ear...whisper...whimper...coarse lips touch the pale skin...whine...despise...desire...moan... never love.

absolutely... something...analogia gemenilor

2007-12-02T09:07:00.000-08:00

The one not me is you, and the one not you is me. we are separate individuals. this is absolute. but together we are one....together we are one sole entity. this is also absolute.

to part, impart and be apart is what should happen in spite of ourselves. but overselves are so sickly dependent on eachother's mind that "apart" is not an option even if we are alone. i ache as you depart, you ache and fall apart. and this too is absolute.

ourself is what makes us cling to eachother's physical form, so perfectly reflected unto one another, if not a mirror image.

My back should rest on your back, you hand on my hand, our breath into ourself and die within our preciously small world - that little universe, we want everyone to understand, but want noone to be a part of...since noone's ultimately good enough.

i write in hope that our writing will fade into the light and stay forever hidden between ourselves, within ourself.

ability to see myself apart from you, so blissfully ignorant of anything that could be considered a connection - your smile, your eyes, your bones, how you can never seem close enough for me to reach, how everything i try to say is misinterpreted and you dismiss me as yourself within my broken sleep. i care not, i see not, i hate not, i need ... maybe not, but still the yearning so terrible, so anguished, so desperate, so iresolute, i can't convince myself it's mine - belonging to a sea of ice whose surface is just cracking from a sharp word, a storm of bitter cold... and there is no need to cry when everlasting night can never melt the frozen soul. the sun is far from rising over this precipice, the demons are far from gone and i'm far from being uninvolved... i couldn't keep this promise to myself and i ended up just as i never hoped to be again, alone, broken, craned in a corner, waiting for a look, a glance that may just give me hope or sink me back into despair and stone-cold nothingness.

such precious pain, so tragically beautiful, like death in the morality of a rose. i know i shouldn't have, but i did and i don't even want this, that's how torn i am, a feeling i don't want, can't embrace as a part of me and deal with... i cannot save myself from me this time, i need someone else to take my hand and pull me out of this slump... and i can't say u'r not trying, but it's going to take so long to .... forget or heal or even accept. they say the only way of getting over a broken heart is with another broken heart; a stab of the knife can only be forgotten through the one that comes after it.... and the scars never heal, never disappear, they linger, just like a memory of you, of what i will never allow to be, to happen, for the... sake of everyone... no need to cry - never helped anybody and this u'd never understand, this darkness in me, this other me that' not yours, that you could never see, that i will never show you or that you'd never notice even if it hit u on the head - you'd just say it's a phase of mine, i'm drifting into insanity and you'll forget about me once more, for i'm not important, i could never be that important for you to even begin to see me as i am - and in the end that's the only thing i want, for you to get to know me, to notice something about me, to not consider me conquered land, for i swear to you, i'll make u slip off your feet, and you'll never why or what went wrong, because u never got to know this me - big mistake...huuuge...and there is someone that can tell you this, the only one that saw me develop to what i am now : a mirror. a mirror has to faces - that bright, shiny one that you keep ur reflection in and the back side that nobody cares to see, but that actually supports that cristal-clear image, a face that has the power to break and distort...this other me.

i break my mirror to tears....and wish for you to never break me away from my insanity, from the only thing i never could call mine for even an instant...this is possession, not belonging.

A foggy morning in Bucharest on heels....

2007-11-23T08:58:00.000-08:00

Evident micile mele aventuri prin Bucuresti p tocuri....aka my killer-heels... necesitau un post especially in light of the most recent events ;)). quite frankly niciodata nu ma astept la peripetiile de care am parte cand sunt p tocuri in buc, adik pana mea zici k se comploteaza la nivel astral sa dobor orice recorduri de rezistenta la mersul p tocuri, dansatul p tocuri....si drumetiile p tocuri, ptr k nu pot numi altfel "plimbarik" de azi d dimineatza d la ora 4. dar, hai sa nu va mai tin in nedumerire acuta, mai ales k nu am mai postat de mult, si sa incep minunata relatare...undeva p un sunet de "LA RADIOOOO"....:))). Joi seara, bucuresti, balul bobocilor si nebobocilor in krystal....toata lumea evident eleganta, aranjata, fitze, ifose si evident tocuri in combinatie cu house si bautura. ingredients for a rather pleasant evening if may do say so myslef, and it turned out even better than i could have hoped really (mai putin ora in care se scorojeau peretii d plictiseala ptr ca "performau" Vama - not actually my first chioce for a club, if u get my drift). anywayz, adevarata distractie a inceput undeva p la ora 3 jumate, cand am plkat akasa singurik cu un taxi si kinda broke dupa excessive-speanding in club ;)). seeing as though i wasnn't that high on budget, mihaela se gandeshte k ar fi mai simplu si mai confortabil sa ramana la iustin, k oricum statea mai aproape. therefore, se opreshte la baba novac, cu o durere criminala in picioare d la dansat si incepe sa sune. and i ring and i ring and i ring si intra o voce suava: "apelatul nu e disponibil"...mortii masii d telefon, de orange, ...deci ajung la casa, d la geamurile careia se intrevad lumini d calculator, probabil un film sau cva....so i must be in luck. WROOOOOOONG. Apelatul, dragul d el, doarme k bolovanu cu film cu tot, cu sunatul meu disperat, cu soneria disperata...this side of him never ceases to amaze i swear :)). intr-o vrie ma mai plimb d doua ori in fatza ushii k o pisica ranaita in orgoliu - nu prea am asteptat eu la viata mea p la ushi, dar cum orice are un inceput si un sfarshit, akum am avut parte d acest inceput....sper sa se termine rpd. oricum, imi iau inima in dinti, incerk sa ma gandesc la happy thoughts si nu la tocuri si ma indrept spre casa, la ora4, imi pun muzica la cashti, si pornesc ushor ushor dar cat se poate de delicat si elegant p marginea drumului pustiu catre casa. pana la dristor (mai nou centrul universal - probabil si locul producerii big-bangului dupa noile estimari) lumea e pustie si asfaltata si ...ingrijorator d bucuresteana. interesting enough, d la dristor, luand-o p Camil Ressu, printre liniile de tramvai si copacii inca verzi inconjurati d ceata groasa kre se lasa, m-a cuprins un sentiment d linishte, like nothing could happen to me, like the pain was going away, si cat d sublima senzatia cand treceau masini p langa mine si lumea dinanuntru se uita ciudat, la micutza fiintza imbracata in piele p tocuri mergand printre linii. obviously k am incercat sa ma feresc d orice fiintza umana c ar fi putut popula strazile la ora aceea disperata a diminetii cand ceata devenise atat d groasa incat la 20 d metri in fata era greu sa vezi. si cum p parcursul unui playlist d muzikca rock am reusit sa ajung akasa....aka:juma d ora, un singur lucru ramane de concluzionat, kre k am doborat recordul d mer p killer heels d la baba novac pana la mine akasa, avand in vedere k atat fac intr-o zi normala cand sunt in adidasi si iau autobuzul si metroul....rather odd i'd say, either that or time stopped for me just breafly as i was gazing my sorry frozen self through the foggy light bulb in the sky.
astazi sunt mandra d mine, astazi nu zac intr-un tomberon ciopartita, astazi ma dor picioarele, astazi e ceata din nou, e ceata p tren, e ceata akasa, e ceata si e noapte si mai e ink putina ceata la mine in creier...someone must really love me and all that is goth cuz right now i know i do and i adore admadja, and u'd be a wonderful goth ;;)

Sleepless in...Bucharest on heels

2007-10-13T12:37:00.000-07:00

No ...actually no gorgeous heels this week, i mean dear God, did u see the weather outside? :)) si hai sa zicem k asta nu a fost kiar principalul impediment ci mai degraba faptul k ar fi fost practic imposibil sa mai port si tocuri and act accordingly i.e. elegant in conditii de 23 de ore de somn in 5 nopti :)). dar totul se poate si intinsa p un parchet prafuit intr-o camera goala, cu o sticla de vin goala langa tine si un fum p kre abia dc il mai percepi pentru ca sta sa inghetze, ajungi sa crezi k da, orice e posibil dc vrei, dc eshti in stare sa sacrifici cva, da lucruri inca sunt mai mult decat "oportunitati" daca nu exista o monotonie, ci mai degraba o rutina placuta, un ritual de care numai are nimeni habar pentru ca nu mai poate gandi nimeni in felul asta. paradoxal ajungi sa crezi k daca se vrea, ei bine, dc se vrea, pai se vrea undeva la nivel cosmic , sau se vrea pur si simplu coincidenta asta, o coincidenta nesfarshita, o coincidenta de ganduri, preferinte, obiceiuri stranii, melodii, pashi, mers, idei, nebunie. pentru prima oara kred ca scriu despre "the mirror effect" p kre nu am avut taria sa il abordez pana akum, despre care nu scriu in engleza, pentru k ar deveni cva eliptic, imposibil de inteles, un pik criptat, o mica perdea de cuvinte frumoase, care suna bine, care se brodeaza unul p altul acoperind ideea ciudata ce se insinueaza dincolo d minte. mi-aduc aminte ca atunci cand eram mica si abia incepusem sa inteleg c se petrece in jur cu destula precizie, ce e inexplicabil si d c e atat de fascinant, si despre zodii si despre cum sunt eu dintr-o carte, si despre... eram complet sigura k exista cineva out there kre e k mine (personality-wise at least) kre gandeshte kam k mine, kre simte c simt eu, care face cva fara k eu sa fiu nevoita sa articulez vreun cuvant, kre imi spune nu neaparat cele mai placute lucruri, ci mai degraba c ma doare cel mai tare, ceea c e cel mai greu d admis, cineva kre sa simta k m-am taiat si sa il doara k si p mine, cineva kre probabil sa traiasa cu, prin, ca mine....a twin. evident k in timp toata aceasta mica teorie in care credeam s-a lasat uitata din lipsa cuiva kre sa corespunda profilului makar intr-o anume masura, si, in cele din urma, a lasat loc unei alte idei, unei iluzii sublime de individualitate exacerbata, unui considerent k nu e nimeni k mine, si e foarte bine asha pentru ca asha e normal si singura dualitate posibila e in mine... desi parea un pic mai plauzibila, chiar conforma cu legile unei societati normale... evident k lucrurile au luat-o in sens invers, si cum necum, m-am trezit over and over and over again cu sentimentul ca ... i have a "mirror" in some respects...ok, in many respects, so far so that i remembered my old wish back then... ce e cel mai ciudat e k no matter how many things happen, ele par sa se reflecte dintr-o oglinda in alta si atat si nimeni nu mai pare conshtient de ele, nimeni nu realizeaza cum o coincidenta inrepetabila sau repetabila sau nu deja trece d coincidenta, cum un gand, o melodie, o viziune, o idee, un orgoliu, un pas, un neuron poate fi la fel d sucit pentru tine cum e pentru mine.
de foarte mult timp am fost reticenta sa scriu, sa vorbesc, sa admit asta pentru ca mi-era oarecum frica, o frica inexplicabila de genul mirajului c se destrama exact in fata ochior tai, sau visul p care il uiti cand incepi sa vorbeshti despre el... ceva de genul asta, dar akum e scris, e aici p blog, e aici si dc e aici si e despre asta imi amintesc despre un biblog " c va sa vina" candva si e scris si eu nu modific ceea c scriu si pana la urma oglinzile nu se sparg asha ushor, si dc e sa sparga nu cred k vrea nici unul 7 ani de ghinion ... si nu toti apreciaza ceai d martzipan cu lapte la 1 dimineatza. iustin... cu siguranta e primul post dedicat and acknowledged as such ... see ya ... pentru ca se poate, pentru ca stai aproape, pentru ca vrem.

Bucharest on Heels...ouch

2007-10-06T03:12:00.000-07:00

Part 1.

My dear bitter-sweet adventure in Bucharest started 2 days ago, with my moving there.

evening note - 4.10

" prima seara in camin...momentan singura, stau p geam, scriu si fumez o tigara si o astept p cherie kre nu a venit ink de la prelegeri. imi trebuie o scrumiera, o ceasca, cva...ptr k e greu d scris cu tigara in mana.... ciudat cum privesc noaptea un oras care akum imi vai fi casa, va fo...casa mea... greu d crezut dar asha este. Oamenii care tipa jos din varii motive, baietzashii de cartier cre se plimba si se iau d orice are detine picioare, eu deasupra tuturor de la etajul 4 ii privesc, privesc blocuri, nu casa de la Seciu, cu care m-am obishnuit, nu bulevardul, ci strazi, nu cunoscuti prin parc, doar beton...
PostNote: a venit cherie, o invazie d telefoane si nu am tv (NOO!) vreau Badea!!! :( but i think i'll manage to survive with a headache comparable to Mt Fiji on my hands ;)). "

Friday morning, 9 am and here starts my daring adventure on my purple heels through i city i barely even know, through ppl i don't know, through a subway tat's kinda familiar.... Firstly there is this point i have to make: never wear heels in Bucharest if u'r gonna travel a lot on foot, and if it's more than 25 degrees outside, the effect is an outstanding "Ouch!" and i can bear pain ...:)) not to mention the fact that the ppl in this city are bloody nosy and it can easily rub off on u too. i mean dear-God while in the subway everybody just stares at everybody and if u'r reading smth, the person next to u can't help but read along and just outwardly look into ur book/magazine or whatever else. more so even, if u happen to be dressed just a tad different, the observing eyes are never far away... for no matter what business u have, there is just a small series of thoughts that the ones around u can't help but have:

why is she/he dressed like that?
where is she going? why?
why those colours?
isn't it a bit too cold outside for that outfit?
can she walk on those heels?

Answer: none of ur bloody business. i remeber smone long ago telling me that in London everybody reads a newspaper to avoid starng and all this troublesome situation ...however much i laughed back then, i'm staring to think it's a rather good idea, since i despise the idea of being examined, even slightly by ppl i don't know.

Next reference point, if God was a woman he wouldn't have invented heels, nomatter how good they look. but u know the saying: can't beat'em , join'em.... and i already have.

Oaia Suprema...

2007-10-03T02:20:00.000-07:00

Oaia suprema visa la divinitate, visa la divinitate si la ghetele lui Banel, visa....insa divinitatzii putin ii pasa ptr ca avea lucruri mai importante de facut decat supervizarea ghetelor lui Banel...si uite asha oaia suprema ... kre ajunsese sa se creada Dumnezeu pe pamant, uite-asha si-a luat-o in barba... ptr ca oaia suprema a nesocotit restul turmei, ajunsese sa e creada ea insasi divinitatea...si oaia suprema a cazut, ptr ca oaia suprema e totusi o oaie, oaia fie ea suprema sau nu, face parte dintr-o turma de oi, si oile sunt oi nu razboinici ai luminii, nu "filosofi" ... doar oi supreme eventual. ai vrea sa fii o oaie suprema, doar pentru "rangul" furat al supremului, doar pentru ca ai putea sa fii peste ceilalti, pentru ca oricat de rafinati ar fi multi dintre acei Alfa, majoritatea nu sunt mai mult decat oi supreme, oi supreme parvenite, oi supreme parvenite incapabile...

pentru o tara de oi, oi ce venereaza pana la un punct oaia suprema,....dar fara oi albastre/roz sau de orice alta coloratura intelectuala extrasa din alint.

Pamant de flori...

2007-10-01T03:16:00.000-07:00

Nevoia de a scrie acest post este derivata directa a unei intamplari... "sinistru de codiene". adik exact genul de lucru despre kre auzi in fiecare zi, ba la stiri, ba p la cunoshtiintze, ba d la parintii ultra-ingrijorati de sigurantza odraslei lor, dar care evident nu ti se poate intampla tie, ptr k u ai grija, ptr ca u esti altfel. asta pana cand ti se intampla... therefore, i believe the best word for what me and Teo experience last night was...assault. da, si nu oriunde ci kiar la noi akasa :)), funny shtiu , dar probabil cel mai terifiant moment p kre l-am trait d cva vreme incoace, because i panicked...Oricum am ajuns intr-un final..cam tarziu ce-i drept....la concluzia usturatoare k nu e bine delok sa fii dragutz cu oamenii p kre nu ii cunoshti, in special in scari d bloc noaptea. cine s-ar fi gandit k dupa o "sedinta" de anime :D:D ar fi putut urma o cursa prin scara blocului, o lupta p usi de lift, o balama rupta si doua fiinte tremurande incapabile sa articuleze cva. Tocmai acest eveniment urmat de o sosire prompta a politiei romane kre evident k nu avea c sa faca, ptr k nu avea c sa faca :-??, m-a facut sa ma gandesc serios la reactiile p kre poti sa le ai in astfel d situatii-criza, si cum instinctul de conservare se pune in functiune imediat. Probleme survine cand incepi sa iti dai seama k nu eshti singura, k mai cineva, cineva ff important langa tine, kre e la fel d disperat, poate kiar mai rau, si totul se prabushshte in jurul tau, si atunci intervine starea fizica "CARPA" - tocmai ptr k nu eshti in stare d nimik decat d fuga, ptr k mintea umana nu poate functiona atat de repede, ptr k e "in denial" si refuza sa conshtientizeze c ii se intampla. DE CE?
De ce nu poti sa dai un pumn p kre poti sa il dai, de ce sa nu zgarii cu nishte unghii p kre le ai, de ce sa fii imobil when u'r the ones that outnumber the assailant....? p bune aku eram doua, si nu am fost in stare de nimik....decat sa scapam nevatamate. which in itself is a grand achievement dc consideri situatia, and yet....we were 2...sau mai bine 2 jumatati :)). una spre lift una spre scari...una spre cealalta, departe d monstru. .......*moment d ura profunda pentru omul respectiv si toata rasa lui* .....Aici intervine intrebarea... dc ai avea cva cu care sa t aperi ai putea sa il foloseshti sau inghetzi pur si simplu si fugi in loc sa lupti...M-am framantat o noapte intreaga la gandul k nu am ripostat, k nu am luptat asha cum m-as fi asteptat d la mine.
Now the soul thing left of the whole incident is a distant memory, an empty void, a question: did it really happen? and the resolution to fight back if it ever happens again (God Forbid ;)) ).
Cuz i wanna be able to protect those around me...

despre...pentru ca...nu vrei sa? ;))

2007-09-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

Pentru ca orice obishnuitza nu e melancolie, ci un soi de dependentza - and there i go again starting my post with a phrase that just kinda fell off Mars or smth ;)); no matter ptr k asha imi place, sa scriu exact cum imi vine, k si akum :D. Revenind...suntem dependenti de orice, de oricine, totul e mai mult decat rutina. "ochii care nu se vad se uita" pentru ca dependenta nu mai e, pentru ca "obishnuitza" a devenit alta/altul, pentru ca e mai simplu sa ramai in cunoscut decat sa te aventurezi, si daca decizi sa te aventurezi frica poate fi coplesitoare sau sentimentul post-factum o strangulare violenta a persoanei tale...
Asa se face ca ....(nu, nu am ajuns in vreo lume fantastica si m-am batut cu dragoni) am fost in....Molinari (da shtiti voi c si cum...cafele, chiul, etc) azi si am vrut sa ma duc chiar la o ora, pentru ca......asha m-am obishnuit, pentru ca dependenta e prea mare, pentru ca senzatia p care am trait-o cand am ieshit azi p usa a fost ...reconfortanta...nu....placuta....nu....obisnhuita....poate...cva al meu, o amintire pe care mi-am impus-o mai demult - tot intr-o dimineatza ca asta, cu alb-cenushiu afara, k fumul de tzigara - pentru shtiam k o sa vina momentul. si cum as putea sa renunt akum? E k si cum as incepe dintr-o data sa mananc zilnic supa/ciorba >:P.....:))) NOT GONNA HAPPEN. Poate pe viitor, dar schimbarea dureaza si trecuturile nu se uita, se rememoreaza - cursing the hell out of human nature here..... - I don't settle old scores, i harbour them!

Despre cum ma simt mai aproape de tine care esti atat de departe decat de oricine lately....despre noi dependente poate, despre cele vechi kre nu se trec, pnetru ca o dependenta e o dependeta si voi, ee bine cate un viciu, mai mic sau mai mare. Pare foarte nashpa din partea mea sa va compar p fiecare cu o sticla d tequila, tigari, cola, Mc, whisky ori CAFEA.

Despre faptul ca t incapatnezi ca si mine sa t joci cu restul, sa nu suferi in proces, sa ti se dea fara sa ceri...otherwise where's the fun ?
Sa faci planuri si sa t tii de ele, pentru ca inseaman cva pentru tine, pentru ca ti-e frica sa pierzi, sa uiti, sa fii uitat, ....pentru e cel mai nasol lucru sa pierzi.

Despre cine a revenit de curand, despre cine scrie, despre cine asculta cva c ii place, fara constrangeri comerciale si sociale, despre faptul c idealul de "a fi integrat" e destul de aproape sper si nu imi pasa imi momentul asta despre el... why not enjoy myself to the fullest, with no worries, why should i want smth complicated after all ...? the small things make me happy - NOTE: nu traduceti asta in romana...nu suna bine :)).

auzi? dar despre tine....? nu vrei sa ...;))?

Take a walk down the aisle, at the end of the mile...give your life to my charms, in the Admiral's Arms

2007-09-07T11:42:00.001-07:00

I hear it fading
I can't speak it
Unless you will dig my grave
We fear them finding
Always winding
Take my hand now
Be alive ...
That was the chorous to a darn good song...stiti voi c si cum, si e seara, probabil scriu ptr k mi-e rau si mi-a fost si mai rau, doar k akum durerea e deja surda, m-am obishnuit cu ea si intr-un fel a inceput sa imi placa, e o senzatie lasciva care t sufoca, astepti sa se termine dar park nu ai vrea sa o pierzi ptr k ai inceta sa mai simti. Durerea in general imi reaminteshte de cat de vie sunt, d toate membrele mele, de fiecare vas d sange, de cat d moarta par si ma simt in monotonie si inactivitate. concluzia: prefer durerea unei monotonii...De foarte multe ori mi-am pus problema ca ar trebui sa suport orice fel d durere, fara a schitza makar o emotie, fara frica, fara senzatie...ptr ca pana la urma si durerea e un sentiment si in felul in care ne "bucuram" de toate celelalte ar trebuie sa ne lasam plin d voluptate si in durere. Desi suna teribil de masochistic ceea c tocmai am spus nu neaparat asta e substratul, deoarece masochismul e intotdeauna legat d placere, pierzandu-si intr-un fel conotatiile in lipsa acesteia; durerea in general ar trebui sa denote asta, sa impinga fiintele noastre abjecte catre o senzatie de eliberare, de transcedere catre superior.
So why embrace pain? pentru simplul motiv ca asta e singura modalitate evidenta de a trece peste o frica ce dainuie d secole. ne e frica ptr ca o sa ne doara, ptr k in urma durerii o sa murim, ptr k durerea e sfasietoare si interminabila, durerea este starea melancolica prin excelenta.

The incestuous dilemma

2007-08-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

Topic of the day: incest. yes doing it with your sibling and the immorality of it all :-@. so far so good, but i can't help but ask my aesthetics dominated self as to why? being faced with the dilemma so may times we can't even remember..., and it transcends culture and time, it's just one of those big taboos that everyone is aware of but afraid to talk about. now, why in God's name are we so eager to accept same-sex relations and contacts but heavens forbid they should be of the same family; and when it all comes down to pure aesthetics -aka looks - why should blood matter? i'm sure most of u are lifting more than just an eybrow to the topic but so what? frankly, i must say i've no brothers or sisters so i wouldn't know exactly how smth like this siblings relationship should be like, but if u consider the pure instinctual side of things and the fact that we as humans are probably the more abject and immoral and sexual of all "conscious" beings on the planet i can hardly comprehend this fear of love between brothers or sisters or both. obviously i disregard the idea of children in this case due to genetical considerations but other than that the central idea is general: pleasure - and it doesn't really matter where u get it from, or from whom or from what for that matter.
And let's picture smth else which stemed froma delightful and sparkling conv: two drop-dead gorgeous guys, twins, addicted to one another like morphine and of course the sexual tension between them. let's face it who in their right mind would turn down such an experience for the sake of ...family and relations. no no no it's just our sick twisted minds ... nothing wrong there, just like gazing at a beatiful roser in the park, cutting it savagely and getting pricked by its thorns, while with bleeding fingers u start tearing away every petal with a lust beyond urself. ok...getting overly poetic here, but still as a metaphor it works, and altough some of u are probably cursin' my ass, callin me a blasphemous bitch i still say give up on ur caged minds u sick puritanical frustrated fucks ;)))
....as a great guy once so elegantly put it: "who are u to judge something u've never experienced?"

Nu pot sa scriu ptr mine ptr k scriu ptr voi

2007-08-17T15:29:00.000-07:00

Cine pana mea a inventat blogul...? cine a renuntat la foi? d c am renuntat eu la foi? d c le mai tine p alea p kre mi le-ai dat...? d c e o foaie a mea si blogul al tuturor? d c sa incerc sa nu fiu eu? ma macina un gand d la o vreme....d c mi-am facut blog? ptr k ..c? k si-au facut toti, k e cool, trendy si hip, ok fine am zis, FINE (and u know what that stands for; freaked-out, insecure; neurotic and emotional ;)) ) dar nu ma multumeste p mine un blog, nu ma multumeshte sa scriu aici, aici unde sunteti toti, unde eu nu sunt eu, ceea c numesc eu eshti tu, si totudeaunea, ptr totdeauna o sa tanjim unul dupa altul....toti unul dupa altu, dupa cine ce cum cu cine cand si care cine.
Nush d c am o senzatie d sfarsit d blog, u never know, da poate poate revin la foi sau poate poate raman tot aici cu gloata. c spirit d turma...nu o sa uit niciodata conceptul d turma si cat d electrizant, extaziant si teribil d macinator poate fi. turma e autodistrugere, in special o turma unita, o turma c a devenit rai d murfatlar, o turma a dumne-zeilor si zeitelor p pamant, o turma si o gloata d "bolnavi", disfunctionali, cu relatii stravezii si ambigue, d combinari d 2, 3 , 4 luate cate vor ei si d vicii ambivalente. shtiu k nu prea imi pasa d c cred cei din jur despre noi d tot ceea c se incadreaza in norme si tipare d ceea c e corect normal si moral...mai ales moral. provin dintr-o "rasa" d amorali, dar ma inceark o frica d amoralitatea noastra, d a ne pierde p noi in procesul d construire a turmei. cine sunt indivizii d aici, d c raman uniti k nishte ciori p o barna duse la inecat doar ptr una nu poate zbura? literalmente sunt surprinsa d faptul k degradarea e mai placuta cand e publica si nu pot sa nu intreb d c? d c ai un fior inexplicabil cand shtiu toti, ptr k mai apoi totul sa se piarda in platitudine si cotidian, d c sa spui tot c gandeshti cand poti sa lasi sa se intrevada, sa fii ambiguul in persoana, sa nu dezvalui si sa t lasi dezvaluit, foaie cu foaie, atunci cand e necesar, cand eshti lucid intr-o noapte cu stele, cand stai atarnat la un geam si o adiere d incremenire bate din orice directie...cum poti sa ai ambitia sa t crezi profund and nu t chinui sa pricepi nimik si ai teribila satisfactie k shtii p cineva cand de fapt iti este imposibil ptr k nu te-ai straduit indeajuns desi totul a fost intr-un caiet, intr-o carte, intr-o conversatie, p o banca, intr-o seara cu o adiere d incremenire. iti poti imagina cat d previzil poti fi atunci, cat d ushor d citit dupa aceea, si cat d disperat d pironit d o imagine prolifica a ta c se va narui la prima secunda d singuratate si strangere d inima ptr ceea c pierzi. poate e greu d "talmacit' ceea c scriu, dar nu reflecta decat ceea c sunt(em) si conshtiinta ulterioara ca suntem atat d vizi k persoane ptr noi si atat d interesanti ptr restul unei planete d anonimi.
nu nu e ultimul post....mai sunt o gramada d spus, dar e vorba d o revizuire d perspectiva ptr k nimeni nu pleaca nicaieri, vietile nu se rup si nu impletesc peste noapte, singuratatea e inabushitoare si insuportabila iar oamenii p cat d noi si interesanti p atat d plictisitori si monotoni, ptr k dureaza o noua eternitate sa ii cunoshti.

scriu si plang....scriu

2007-07-27T12:11:00.000-07:00

azi nu am putut sa vorbesc cu nimeni, cu nici unul dintre voi, cu nimeni, am suferit kiar d doua ori, am plans o gramada, am bocit kiar, selfless....fara pic de control. si cum sa nu fiu frustrata, dezamagita d mine, d tot ceea c nu am putut sa fac sau d un "ghinion" incredibil p kre probabil mi l-am facut singura, sau poate k nu. oricum dincolo d linie...sunt eu - cel mai nasol sentiment ever, si sincer nu poti sa intelegi pana nu ai trecut prin asa cva, ptr k t zdruncina, si totul devine un soc plasmodic din care iti e frica sa iesi...e imposibil sa traiesti asha si sincer desi nu e nimik kiar tragic dupa cum m-au asigurat toti, nu pot sa nu observ cum lucrurile se schimba putin cate putin si simt k akum, nu inainte d bac, nu dupa defilare, nu dupa bac, se termina totul, park v-am pierdut p toti ptr k nu mai sunteti in acelasi loc cu mine, ptr k ...nush oricum pustiitor rau sentimentul asta, pustiitoare senzatie, pustiitoare viata, and worth living? ... hell knows, god knows, cuz i surely don't. cum t simti intr-o camera unde singurele persoane kre t cunosc sunt inexistente, cum t poti simti cand nu shtii la c sa t ashtepti, cand simti k vrei sa strigi don't go....ever. ptr aici e problema, nu d o saptamana, nu d doua, ci d ani buni d-acum akolo, don't ever go cuz i couldn't bear to be so alone and not have u to talk to, to call if i need it.cata frustrare, atata inconstienta, atata frica...o frica inexplicabila, o neasteptata, nefireasca frica.

Hold on to your kite....

2007-07-06T14:19:00.000-07:00

Am inceput sa simt un nod in gat din momentul in care in jur nu pareau sa mai apara decat calai- acei oameni, kre tin la tine, t cunosc, nu neparat mai bine k oricine, dar d care apartii in totalitate=familia. si e normal sa fie frustrati, suparati, dar tragicul se desprinde la mine dintr-o suferinta acuta p kre numai a handful of ppl o pot pricepe ptr k sunt ca mine, inteleg drama, inteleg cu luciditate, inteleg...si nu pun intrebari. poate ca e natura umana sa nu dai tot c poti din tine, sau nu intotdeauna, si sa ajungi sa t oftici, atat incat sa simti durerea pana in maduva oaselor, sa vrei sa tipi si sa plangi si sa le arati k p tine t doare mai tare decat p ei... k nu pot intelege oricat ar vrea, k degeaba le e frik, degeaba vor una si alta, ptr k tot d tine depinde la urma urmei si intri iar in combustie interna, mai moare o parte din tine, mai se spanzura 2-3 neuroni, si totul e bine in cele din urma. de suferit vei suferi ori in tine ori in tine dar taiat d lume... cu impresia k nimeni nu poate sa realizeze c simti u, nu poate sa t ajute; si totusi pot, dar chestia asta se invata, in timp, ptr k cei care nu t judeca sunt proiectii ale tale, eshti tu intr-o infinitate d ipostaze autoidolatroare, d conceptii si idei kre t cunosc atat d bine si p kre aproape k le poti asimila, incat orice dovada pare redunadanta, iar ideile se exprima altfel - nu material si fizik, sunt trairi. buuuu, si akum revenind la o posibilitate d analiza asupra unor lucruri un pik mai relevante, ptr k nu ne face o nota, si oricat d bun ai fi p hartie we live lives and our streets are solid concrete, of paved alleys and tree-less parks, of shadows of ppl, who live for the sake of living, with no goal, no ideal for happiness, no incentive for the beyond, no fantasy world of their own. oare cum e sa traiesti in dezolare? .... rupt d tine, sa nu shtii k existi dincolo d tine, in ceilalti din jurul tau, sa reprezinti, nu sa creshti p langa, in umbra, in intunericul meu - al cosmarurilor mele, al dezamagirior mele, ale Mele. Oare nu t doare? simti k doare sau te-a paralizat deja, incat nu e durere ci mai degraba amorteala, si astepti calm sa fii decapitat undeva intr-un viitor gri p kre il shtii prea bine si nu vrei sa il accepti, de teama sa nu cedezi psihic (cedarea pshica e accepatea realului in care te-ai cantonat, temnita p care ti-ai creat-o singur si in care traieshti fiecare clipa, ptr k nu shtii sa tipi sa ti se deschida, si kiar dc ai tipa - cine ar veni sa iti deschida?) poate k m-ar durea mai mult asta, poate k m-ar sfashia sa ma vad asha vreodata, mai mult decat o "runa" p o foaie, ce imi atesta... capacitatea d retinere si redare p termen scurt in conditiile unei detasari d starea aeriana pur caracteristica. nu vreau sa ma doara eul meu p kre nici nu il cunosc, prefer sa sufar din orgoliu ranit, ptr k orgoliul meu e eul meu doar k mai narcisist and there's surely nothing wrong with that. si am inteles k oricat d evidente sunt unele lucruri si likely to happen ptr k ar fi pre-ordained sau un miracol al sortii, god-knows, trebuie sa lupti ptr ele, ptr k si intr-o oglinda trebuie sa iti doresti indeajuns d mult sa iti vezi reflexia.
Probabil tie... Mirror.

crazy sexy hypnotic...tell me how you feel

2007-06-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

I feel an anguish... something beyond the distorted mind of the demented rose personality, beyond the klutzy fool that keeps every futile piece of paper like a broken memory - that i haven't written about. Restless, page-blank bleached where am i....? where did i leave myself behind, and since when am i so devoid of my usual charm, of a conversation topic, of any link besides the obvious and oblivious monotony that everyone displays? really now, haven't u noticed? haven't u all noticed? bloody hell, i know not the reason for such a troublesome situation, for my sudden dramatic change, this ... thing, this morphed hybrid longing for itself, for colder reason, for ignorance as bliss, for everything it stood for and upholed, and for an ego unbeneded, that now seems utterly slanted. absurd as it may seem i'm feeling this now - this small catastrophe - in the midst of an exam- of whatever the fuck i actually need it for, of whatever the hell i need to do for myslef...cuz i just get the impression i'm givin myself up bit by bit to everyone, because i'm so giving.... it's like:" sure, here u go, have a piece...", " of course, i will...", " neah, i don't mind..." and i really don't mind...cuz i've always been this way, never really asking for anything in return, because i don't need anything, and if i do need this small thing i'd almost never tell u, cuz u'r always relying on me and what would that make me?....unreliable? that's just up to u. i've never really asked myself questions that might shatter my world, my beliefs in the ppl around me, about how and if they care, see, know, cuz deep down, i'm sure they do - there is always a moment i can never really remember, when they all stand by my side, when they're right there behind me to fall back on - but i'm so darn scared of falling back, of letting myself slip that it's so chaotic, so like 3 definitory words of the letter "y". not makin any sence is a gift, not making any sence while actually making sence is what only i or u can understand ... when bewilders is... how u talk to me....tell me how u feel...

Sirop de ...ibuprofen

2007-06-13T12:42:00.000-07:00

Nu shtiu exact c anume imi mai induce stari d ebrietate emotionala cateodata....dar se pare k azi a fost una dintre acel putine dati....si s-a intamplat "out in the open" with my best friends ... go figure. stand p o banca in park...dupa c in prealabil eu am deplans moartea plina d suferintza a elefantului Gaia- d akum 8 luni- am ajuns sa discutam alexandru lapushneanul - DA ala cu piramida, si cu domniile lui tiranice - *a nu se confunda cu kheops sau cva:))*. pana mea, nu shtiu cum sau d c am perceput eu lucrurile da am dat-o in plans - da, si eu plang; da se intampla rar; nu, nu am bocit propriu-zis :p. oricum ideea centrala aici e k nu am nici o treaba cand se face mishto d mine, kiar ma distrez foarte tare, dar azi well...i acted like a total nincompoop, si cik eu ma suparam p ei k imi explicau la romana...really now who in god's name does that? =)) anywayz i hate not being myself sometimes in special k azi mi se pare k i-am cam "speriat" -desi cuvantul nu e cel mai fericit ales- p iustin si p teo...to which i humblely apologise :*:*....prin reactia mea, which brings me to the other moment of the evening - d data asta akasa - cand am revazut nishte filmulete d vara trecuta cand am lasat o camera sa ne filmeze asha cum eram noi, stand d vorba, la un meci, facand mishto d emisiunile siropoase d la tv si d scandalurile din presa .....dapz noi :d. uitandu-ma am ajuns la concluzia k nu ne-am schimbat - si-a pus mishu ochelari intre timp :)), dar in rest nik - tot noi suntem, kiar daca d multe ori ajungem sa fim vazuti altfel d catre cei din jur: mai demni, mai maturi, mai plini d noi, mai "plangacioshi" decat ne-am fi imaginat, dar striclty speaking, nu tre sa cauti prea departe k sa vezi c am vazut eu p o caseta d 30 d min, sa iti aduci aminte d c ii iubeshti p fiecare in parte si nu ai vrea sa se mai termine filmul...

post dedicat : teo si iustin - pentru k fara voi nu as fi putut sa scriu si sa imi cumpar nurofen, sa invat la romana...si sa fim poate mai sentimentali makar intre noi (nush unde e acordul in prop asta da nu conteaza... luv ya guys, k doar altfel nu as fi plans:*)

Post-mortem, idem XI A

2007-06-10T12:01:00.001-07:00

Orice melodie reprezinta o stare...si totul e ori anorganic ori organic ori absolut, kam asha putem sa ne definim si persoanele si gandirea si non-gandirea si instinctele. totul se rezuma la absolut, adik la instinct, la tot c putem face cand suntem atat d ametiti si beti d fericire and carelessness incat orice urma d consecinte si viitor isi pierd nu numai semnificatia ci si existenta, clipa se suprapune contextului, se suprapune societatii si lumii, si atunci u - noul devenit centru al universului - t lasi sedus d tot esteticul din jurul tau pentru k simturile nu mai percep decat idealul frumos. si asta ma aduce - p un drum kam intortocheat ce-i drept dar ma aduce - la ideea mea, c poate fi mai frumos decat o clipa d ametzeala? acea uitare sublima, cand nu mai conteaza relatiile, legaturile, prieteniile sau ura, nu mai are nici o relevanta faptul k rochia ta e jumate pikata d p tine, parul "falfaie" p umerii tuturor, machiajul se scurge in caldura innabushitoare kre t sugruma si t extaziaza in acelasi timp, pantalonii lui/lor stau sa pice pentru k sincer nu conteaza, moralitatea devine o prostituata cu tendinte homosexuale, si totul se sfarsheshte dupa un singur dans, pentru ca efectul alcoolului piere, sticlele zac goale p mese, iar noi mai ravnim un strop d "ametzeala".
Descrierea asta nu imi aduce aminte d o petrecere sau d doua ci defapt d o intreaga perioada, o "era" k sa ii zik asha, cand house-ul era prolific si decadentza in floare, viciile cva d dorit, de ravnit si noi - cativa pierduti printre sticle, dans si oameni, cunoscutii sau nu, - singurii din lume. funny enough but i can't help but think this is post-mortem, pentru k perioada nu se sfrasheshte, ea a murit d mult, am ingropat-o cu ultimele fumuri d tigara si cu "vine bacul!" in loc d amin. ei bine, sa moara bacul! - deja park spunem k vine ploaia, vine vara, sau vine ...ce mai...? vin zilele noastre, kred k asta e defapt c conteaza cel mai mult. Cum sa nu iti indrepti atentia spre cele 3 zile - rememorarea inceputui, al nashterii noastre ca shallow ppl si sper eu REnashterea noastra, pentru k, sa fim seriosi, bacu vine, bacul trece - noi sper sa ramanem in urma acestui balaur cu shapte capete la fel d party-ppl as ever.

Acceptable in the ...00'

2007-06-03T01:12:00.000-07:00

Since when do we not fit into categories anymore? Did we ever? Despre a asculta depeche mode - strange love la 11 dimineatza sa iti plak si sa t iubeshti pentru k tu kiar nu incerci, nu t straduieshti sa nu t comformezi, si nu ai o obsesie impotriva rozului :)). De ce sa t complici sa fii cva c nu eshti, d c sa nu zbieri cu fiecare fibra din tine k eshti u? ma gandeam ieri cum poti sa treci d la tipik la atipik pentru generatia ta - nu k mi-as blama generatia aici, doar k ceea c s-a intamplat ieri cannot possibly qualify as a tag for us. Si uite cum sambata dimineatza, kum ne e obiceiul in ultima vreme, eu si iustin am chiulit d la prega d la romana *mai mult eu decat el, ptr k el nu mai merge* Evident k in plan era un Mec, o tigara, stam un pik d vorba si dupa aia la un bowling; toate bune si frumoase pana aici, insa dupa un cola si un suc d portocale, fum, soare, umbra, palavrageala si oameni trecand d jur imprejur, just begging to be analysed;))... descoperim k da nu avem cum sa jucam bowling - nu era nimeni akolo :-W AGAIN - c sa facem, c sa facem? omnia si mall deja ieseau din discutie si bulevardul era plin d copii kre "il inundau cu copilarie si muzica folclorica". concluzie: mergem la muzeul ceasului (era d mult in plan, dar park niciodata materializat) mai ales k Lordul nu il vazuse niciodata, si asa ne indreptam noi incet, incet prin caldura insuportabila spre ceasuri, multe ceasuri, ceasuri d buzunar, orologii, ceasuri d masa, ceasuri tablou, "ceasuri-vaza"...tic, tic, tic - there wasn't all that much ticking in there, very few were functional :)). oricum vizita a fost frumoasa si s-a dovedit a fi si un bun refugiu d atmosfera tipik Sahara d afara, iar in curtea muzeului erau banci, copaci, umbra si linishte, evident perfect pentru a planifica o spargere la mai sus amintitul muzeu, k doar nu are cine shtie c securitate; insa asta p viitor pentru k ne trebuie u crew profesionist :p

Moving on to the next hilarious scene cand vine un grup d copii cu invatzatoare probabil sa viziteze muzeul si o doamna sa asheaza cu noi p banca, sau mai bine zis ne ridica p noi cu tot cu banca throug her sheer proportions (not being mean here a da fost prea funny, k sa nu mentionez), ceea ce evident ne-a adus intr-un ras isteric, therefore ne-am retras cat d discret am putut si ne-am indreptat spre casa. ziua s-a continuat cu vreo 4 partide d table si inghetzata, iar eu am cashtigat cu 3-1 printr-un numar inexplicabil d duble, pentru kre mi s-a promis o revansha k sa imi iasa tablele din cap :)).

Concluzie:

cine se mai duce sambata dimineatza la muzeu? noi :D...duceti-va si voi e fun

cine mai joak table? noi...:D:D d c nu? mai schimbam rutina :p

cine comenteaza vestimentatia oamenilor p strada si muzica p care o asculta mai mult decat noi? nimeni :)) - e greu sa ajungi la nivelul asta, although we're not THERE yet.

Public non-smoking...

2007-05-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

Stand azi p geam la bucatarie cu iustin si priviind in departare catre blocurile socialiste gri si incercand sa ne imaginam un camp imens in locul lor...ajungem la un subiect monden cel putin: public smoking si anume faptul k se tot bate apa-n piua despre o lege kre ar interzice fumatul in locuri publice. Toate bune si frumoase pana aici, nu? adik pana si eu ex-fumatoare-ish ;)) mai ma simt deranjata d perdelele d fum p care le tai cu cutitul in diverse cafenele (molinari), dar inca o idee ma framanta... unde ar mai fi farmecul in a ieshi afara 10 min, sub pretextul unei carti d biologie pentru a fuma o tigara? cum ai mai trai sentimente inexplicabile of frustration cand parintii prietenilor dragi d vad fumand, desi nu trebuie sa dai explicatii sau cum t simti k innocent by-stander la faze d genu asta? oricat d socially beneficial ar fi legea asta - kre ink nu e - mi se pare k ar strica farmecul unor chestii, exact al acelor lucruri care t atrag prin eleganta sau stil in functie de anturaj...(dupa cum scriu zici k sunt fumatoare, dar nu).

ps: pentru un anume "shaman" kre nu e deloc d acord cu e debitez aici, si pentru un "prince in distress" kre imi aduce d zor carti d bio ;))

Memorii pe o banca...

2007-05-29T07:58:00.000-07:00

Se facea ca...defapt nu se mai facea nimik, pentru ca toate sunt deja facute. Azi, zi torida, ploiasa, innorata , senina, mai nou, de vara am ajuns intamplator sau nu, pe o banca in parc - da, veneam d la prega d la chimie, da, eram cu octavia, da, eram plictisite, da, nu vroiam sa ne duceam direct akasa. Mult mai curios insa este faptul k pornind d la eternul si fascinantul subiect d discutie, kre pare a se regasi in majoritatea conversatiilor dintre mine si prietenii mei - aka Iustin - am ajuns sa rememoram somewhat liceul. ei bine, nu tot liceul, asha faze, pentru ca fazele raman si, fie ele bune, rele, damn abnoxious, ale tale, ale altora sau plain stupid devin baza ptr polemici, interminabile variatiuni p aceeasi tema dar care capata noi semnificatii cu fiecare reeditare. Sincer nu as putea sa imi explik sau sa-i explik altcuiva cum se leaga epilatul, tipii, incuiatii din cercul d cunoscuti, sexul, cartile, dorinta pe care o renegi desi nu ai incercat-o, poate bacul si nishte chestii mici care cresc in plopi. anyway, aceasta discutie a fost asha un fel d wake up call atat pentru mine (nush dc si pentru tavi) cat si despre cei din jur, si anume:

da, ne mutam in bucuresti in toamna, lucru destul d clar dc nu pikam bacu :))

we are shallow - poate nu atat cat ne-am dori, sau ne-ar placea sa credem

o sa ramanem c am fost - un sfer party ppl, jumate sitcom ppl si restul in functie d ce noi atractii se perinda p la usile noastre

(asta pentru cativa din jur) in viata nu ai parte d o poveste, ne indragostim k proshtii, da' ne trece, e tare greu sa fii fidel - orice ar zice restul lumii

literatura erotica/pornigrafik e la moda zilele astea

nu, nu am invatzat nici una dintre noi pentru prega la bio

in consecinta, o jumatate d ora foarte interesanta, amuzanta p deplin, continuarea zilei d ieri pe care Lordul a detaliat-o in blogul lui, si un prim post care a rezultat din toate astea ;))