Tuesday, February 20, 2007

remember 2006

yes i remember. i remember the smell of the streets and the smell of the subways and the smell of you. i tried to forget, to keep it clean, to keep it clear. i remember everything just as accurate and as clear as camden town at sunset. i remember the people and chelsea kitchen. k. my mistake, trying to erase all these. trying to borrow another personality, the one from my country. it doesn't suite. i remember you.
i know now i want to go back to london,
and i know that all this is just a way of getting through. i know i'll never find you there, and probably never again. and i miss you like shit.
i will smoke ganja in every park of london just for you, you know.
and i will walk on the streets near south kensington and buy me sandwiches and johnny walker. what more could you want from me. what more could you pretend would be FAIR and smooth, and with...
i never know why i write here.
i missed you a lot. i still do.
i want to be pathetic and kind and weak, just like you are. i wanna go back there and feed the pigeons though everyone says do not feed them.
i wanna trip, i wanna write again in hyde park in silence, i wanna go with you again at peter pan. and i can't share this with anybody, and i can be afraid and i can stay here but not till the end of time.
i find my friends transforming and i feel estranged and i think when the moment comes, when you feel estranged in your own homeland, then you have to go.
you know, when i came back here there was always a feeling that something is missing. when walking on the streets, i always had the feeling that i have to look left and talk to you, but i was just alone. then i learned to get over it, i learned to fall in love, i learned to get busy. i worked at monged, and this kept me alive. but now monged is over, and i can't do it again. i tried to fool myself that i will work here at other stuff, i begun writing another play. i tried to keep in touch with romania. but here, you know, i don't know why, there is a moment when everything goes wrong. there is that CERTAIN moment so fucked, so wicked, so absolutely non-ok, so absolutely wrong, that you keep on asking yourself if you are on the right track, or the train has left the station many hours ago...
yes, i want to go back. i don't want to bullshit myself anymore. there is nothing here to keep you ALIVE. i die here day by day. waiting, forgetting, understanding, forgiving, swallowing unnatural shitty things.
i want to keep everything as alive as it can be.
you changed me. a lot.
maybe someday at 90 years old we will have breakfast together again.
bacon and eggs, huh?
and lots of coffee.

Monday, February 12, 2007


love love love what can i do
gotta work and keep myself
but the thought of you makes everything pop.

(which is one of the nicest and shiniest love poems ever )

it's an unnatural spring

and, as they say, i got a head with wings.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

no no no

I hate power trips.

Friday, February 02, 2007


A huge need for searching is messing my stomach heart and all the physical and spiritual organs up. I feel like I have a little "google search" somewhere in my spiritual organism. I search for something, feel that some people are links for me for something else, some moments become links for other moments, meeting certain people can open a door to something else but i don''t know what that something else is. and sometimes some other people don't open any doors and then you just feel like it's no use to see them or talk to them.
I don't even feel like wanting to be in love, i just dream from time to time about somebody but don't want to see him because anyway life is complicated and dreams are better. i would define all these mixed stuff by "strawberry fields forever", i would like all these days be like strawberry fields forever, a mix. sometimes the sound is stronger (when the screen is getting more colorful, and you get closer to something ), sometimes it's just a little whisper in the back of your mind, when you act like being stuck and you are not really alive and "searching", and you only do stupid shitty things like going to an exam.
well, well, well. little amelie me.