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

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...

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....

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

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....

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

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

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.