Friday, December 29, 2006

velvet goldmine one more time

grandfather with a knife haunting us all and we running in fear after trying to keep him alive. stories about spiderman and d'artagnan and chaos messing my mind up and a lovesick feeling which makes me hide away in the house and never get out again,
although you can't be sick of love and the word is not good but you can be genetically modified for a period which means not really you which of course can scare you off for good, the inner transmutation, the change, like when spiderman puts his clothes on and he is not himself anymore or whatever any example would do,
chrismas and new year's eve and parties and big cakes with so many levels for too many people, so many people gathering around and friends talking with their mouth full about politics about snow white about my life about nothing.
wandering around in the bucharest fucking city and tension in the air and headaches.
kent ultralight, i defy you. you are not my friend anymore.
the sky is full of my friends' faces. of my parent's face. of the surreal great heroes of the humanity. of spiderman and kim-ki-duk.
electric fear. emotion.
emooootion and fear. new years eve always messes things up. this is what i'm afraid of. that we always try to glam ourselves up and fuck it all. all that it is.
i have a white dress, i have a black dress, i have a green dress. i have to survive these holidays and get back to work. sometimes i feel like grandfather- too much emotion and too many people and too many lights and everything trying to look so smart and dressed up that i can pick up the knife and accuse them of criminal intentions.
and of course above all, the best movie for these days- velvet goldmine one more time.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006


home now. holidays, chrismas, laziness, emptiness, strange-ness. we had the show today, first performance with audience.
it was cool. people liked it. the show is not ready though, but it's about to "fly away"- and the feeling of emptiness close by. in the closet.
i miss other cities now, when i don't have my rehearsals, and i am like in a strange period on not-really-being-in-my-life, but somewhere with so much time to loose/use/abuse, that you don't really know what to do with it.
so. family. chrismas. celebratiiing. i could use a smoke.
family. night. evening. no new subjects.
gonna wash some dishes now, ladies and gentlemen. gonna keep the touch with the material world.
people said that they got emotional during the play last night. it was very long, 2 hours and 45 minutes, but they still liked it and someho felt it. there's not much happening, just 3 guys who get more and more stoned, and you can see how the trip goes for them. the play is a trip, ,and that's how I should work on it further. sorin is soooo good in what he does, i really felt that he opens himself and discovers many new levels in acting. i know him pretty well, and i know how he was some years ago, when we started school. he grew up and he is very talented.
didn't contact gary duggan yet, damn it. I should take this in charge.
gary, mails for everybody i love, and some wine with my familyt, and maybe tomorrow go out,
and time to read a book, and maybe cut my hair, and some shiny stuff for the christmas tree.
that's how the sun comes back in my life again. :-)

Sunday, December 10, 2006


brush my teeth mom, show me how to do it. someday when I'll be like all my friends predict me, so fucked and wasted and waiting in a ditch for the rain to stop, oh yes bacovia i know your depressive poetry and i used to love it, someday mom i'll be waiting for you to help me brush my teeth but you won't come anymore.
can you be happy with your mouth full of bacteria? can you be happy with other people's shit draining on you? can you can you can you.
i can i can i can.
i have the little white wire that connects me to the whole world and i love it. i have it cry for me laugh for me eat for me. virtual, eh? take care, girl, you are getting vir-tu-aal. today alejandro and dodou wrote me. alejandro asking how am i doing, dodou the same. i'm fine. i love you all. i'm why do i have the impression that if you have a blog you tend to be more depressive in what you write that your actual thoughts are?
soo fine and happy.
so you are a father now. at least it's a wonderful thing, to have a child.
love. stupid.
angels and hearts and all those beautiful boys, All those beautiful boysPimps and queens and criminal queersAll those beautiful boysTattoos of ships and tattoos of tears
i sang a christmas carol alone on the street today, in loud voice, in remembrace of you.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

i'm a little Frankenstein

Yep, this is a strange one. Today I cheked out an older blog because a friend of mine reminded me of it. It was called me and my monkey and it was in romanian. Fair enough. And I was about to tell this friend that I have another blog now, and give him the nick and all, but I didn't do it because I was thinking- well, this one is in English, and he will make fun of me BIG TIME if he sees that.
So, fuck. Why am I writing in english? It came so natural when I made this blog, and it still is so natural, but, I mean, why the fuck am I writing in English?
I guess I'm feeling better this way. Estranged. You know, sometimes even my language seems messy and non-ok. So I guess this is happening to me, this story that you see in movies, or you read about as an interesting psychological phenomenon- the feeling of estrangement and the need to leave your country. The lack of love for your country. Sometimes the despise for your contry. The pity- really, the decorations for Christmas this year are sooooo pityful, so poor, so sad, like a duty someone had to do, the mayor or so, like a- oh, well, it's Christmas, let's put the fuckin' lights on, and the lights are (surprise, surprise!) blue and with white stars, like the E.U. flag. Brilliant. Super. Great.
I don't know. I wasn't like that some time ago, but now I think I'm just tired of not getting enough from here, of the constant mood I was also talking about in previous posts, of the I-don't-know-what that floats upon these people.
And here is the answer for my writing in english, I guess. This is the answer. English makes me feel protected. I'm an immigrant-to-be. I'm a fuckin Frankenstein now, in continuous transfomation. I don't recognize my old values, I don't know my new ones, I look at my past, and my friends, like they are someone I will leave soon, but at the same time I'm not sure of it, because all these may be a post NY/London/Wiesbaden trauma, as it is when you come back and it's hard to get used to things. Sometimes I feel that things here just don't ever change. My friends are just the same, my family is just the same, everything moving so slowly, and everybody like- not knowing what the fuck they really want. I don't either. But I try to find out. I really want to make THAT difference. Between you do what you do and you choose what you do.
The rehearsals will be over soon. I got a bit tired and messy and I felt that yesterday it wasn't such a great thing happening on the stage, and I also feel that this show will be kind of long, but then again I've never seen a run trough, whch is really important. It will be ready on the 16th of December.
And I'll go now to figure out what I have to do next.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

I'm black and sad and melancholic and depressive. Like in the 8th grade.