tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373457952024-03-12T19:00:52.822-07:00tracksverahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-79390910604048530362009-01-04T13:04:00.001-08:002009-01-04T13:29:19.400-08:00patinaj vitezam-am intors de la berlin cu o deficienta. mi-am adus aminte de zilele de acum multi ani in care imi imaginam ca exista linii invizibile prin lume, si faceam experimente ca sa le surprind, inca inainte sa ma ating de orice fel de substante. scrisesem intr-o zi ceva cu rosu pe o bucata de hartie dar imi era frica sa citesc ce am scris. pe urma am gasit hartia cu doua pete ca si cum ar fi fost doua picaturi de apa sau doua lacrimi, cerneala se intinsese si se modificase, mai intai am crezut ca a gasit mama hartia, ca a citit-o si ca a plans. sistemul lui d. de coincidente mi-a adus aminte de wonderlandul din capul meu, si o apropiere de cineva pe care il simti cumva ciudat ca tine intr-un fel care te face sa respiri usurata. sa-ti fie usor totul, ca un fel de patinaj. chestia cu "ne dam" prin lume, valabila ca atatea altele. in berlin nu te poti duce sa faci si sa costruiesti chestii, e alta paradigma. acolo chestiile se fac de la sine. tu nu ai decat datoria sa te prajesti cum trebuie. internetul e live. linkurile se autogenereaza. acum doua ierni aveam si tripul cu linkurile. intre timp am uitat de el pentru ca am inceput sa imi editez experientele in lume si sa fac chestii. cand te uiti insa inapoi la lumea aia, iti vine o presiune in tample de parca ai sta mult timp cu capul sub apa. stii ca de fapt amalgamul ala e singurul adevar, iar eforturile tale de editare sunt la fel de paranoice in efortul lor de a crea sens ca, nu stiu, incercarile imbogatitilor de a-si face case la corbeanca. patinaj artistic, patinaj viteza si o colcaiala intensa prin care plutesti dand din coada gen ca un peste de prada. cu gura deschisa si ochisorii bulbucati, wow. wow. wow. ce mare e lumea. experimental, optional, daca as inota o luna asha prin berlin, nu as mai face dupa aia altceva decat asta. sau mai stii? sunt pofticioasa si nesatula si imposibil de oprit. daca imi opreste cineva petrecerea, vreau sa caut alta. vreau sa ajung la o petrecere in care sa ne explodeze fizic creierele la un switch, vreau sa-l cunosc pe dj-ul care o sa faca asta si sa ma plimb cu el prin berlin o zi intreaga. caci daca e vorba sa facem autosondaj, nu merge cu tedi si nici cu omleta. daca chiar vrei sa faci sondaju, sa intri in tine cu sonda, nu poti sa pui altceva in ea decat exploziv.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-46326165005964833232008-10-28T16:46:00.001-07:002008-10-28T17:26:17.438-07:00usay a little prayer for you. unde ar trebui sa fiu in mintea mea? ai filmari. esti la zeci de kilometri departe si nu pot decat sa activez amintirile. sa activezi amintirile. in acelasi timp- stii, ok. reluam- sunt in londra. tu esti in alta parte. scriu in romana pentru ca nu vreau sa citesti asta. treci prin zi cu atatea haine. vrei ca in miezul zero al noptii sa iti scoti toate hainele astea. nu poti face asta singur. tu erai punctul meu zero. cand plecam de langa tine, incepeam sa ma duc inspre chestiile pe care le fac gen in lume, stii? scriu in romana pentru ca NICIODATA n-o sa intelegi limba asta. fizic, tu erai punctu meu zero. momentu in care ma trezesc, stii? ca in cantec. si dupa ce ai plecat, am ramas singura. the moment i wake up i say a little prayer for you. acuma pe bune, unde altundeva as putea sa te gasesc? crezi ca ajunge? crezi ca e ok? ai un fel asa eroic de a face fata lucrurilor ca ma faci si pe mine sa o ard gen sandra bullock intr-un film in care nu stiu, face 100 de tractiuni pe zi ca sa fie in stare sa survive. da nu sunt genu. ba da, sunt genu. imi e dor de tine. nu stiu cum sa deal with that, stii? imi e asa dor de tine. nu stiu ce sa fac, nu stiu cand o sa te vad, nu stiu nimic. cineva mi-a zis ca trebuie sa uit si gen sa imi aleg oameni din zona mea, stii, din apropiere. nu inteleg nimic. nu inteleg nimic din ce ar trebui sa fac. deci teoretic mai bine nu era nimic pentru ca oricum chestia asta nu duce nicaieri, nu? adica we won't have any outcome, asa cum zic englezii. it's like nu poti sa investesti sentimente in ceva care stii ca nu o sa te duca nicaieri, ar zice orice capitalist care se respecta, nu? fuck off. de unde atata sentiment al investitiei, adik cum? adik iubesti in functie de ce rezultat ai, in functie de ce-ti iese, sau cum??? sunt megafericita ca te cunosc. si ca te-am intalnit. si ca esti acolo, undeva. si ca stiu ca tu ma faci fericita, si eu te fac fericit intr-un fel sau altul. sunt atat de singura cand nu esti aici si nu-mi dau seama de asta decat dupa ce ai fost aici. cu tine sunt ca in cantecu ala, stii? the origins of love. it's like complete.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-43749962868483214442008-08-16T02:50:00.000-07:002008-08-16T02:52:13.600-07:00active art<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hFc_iG4M6fw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hFc_iG4M6fw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>art.<br /><br />action.<br /><br />rePRESENT.<br /><br />PRESENT.<br /></strong></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-37182085016770870792008-08-12T03:53:00.000-07:002008-08-12T03:56:06.306-07:00dreptul nostru la replica<span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>ce faceti voi cu cristi neagoe ne priveste pe TOTI care suntem tineri si incercam sa traim printre dinozaurii din romania. fosti securisti care ascund crime si mineriade explodeaza din cauza unui ponei roz de cativa centimetri. oameni si care nu sunt la curent cu ce s-a intamplat in cultura romana in ultima SUTA de ani interpreteaza texte literare drept realitate si sunt atat de inculti si ingusti incat DAU PE POST niste afirmatii care demonstreaza ca ar trebui sa paraseasca in masa aceasta tara si sa ne lase pe toti in pace. nu mai avem nevoie de propaganda, de paradigme securiste si de cenzura. ASTA E ALTA GENERATIE. cu generatia asta nu aveti cum sa va puneti. suntem copiii care la 8 sau noua ani aflam ca pe mami au batut-o domnii din mina cu bulanu la universitate pentru ca avea ochelari. suntem generatia care a vazut revolutia live la o varsta la care oamenii nu pot fi mintiti. suntem generatia exploziei informationale si a descoperirii ca AI DREPTUL SA GANDESTI SI SA TE EXPRIMI LIBER. astea pentru noi nu sunt adevaruri invatate din carti. sunt traite si experimentate pe pielea noastra si a parintilor nostri. asa ca domni precum JOHN GABRIAN MARINESCU, domnul VACAROIU, domnul ILIESCU, si toata gama lor de prieteni care au uitat si au ascuns cat rau au facut ar avea un singur lucru de facut in momentul asta: sa-si ceara scuze. si sa taca. si sa plece. e incredibil si absolut SF tot traiectul scandalului diplomatic declansat de expozitia de street art la ICR NY (nu o mai rezum acum, o gasiti pe net), care a ajuns saptamana trecuta la balacareli si mai jenante pentru orice om de bun simt- vezi emisiunea de la antena trei in care o ora s-au facut afirmatii false despre cristi neagoe, coordonator de comunicare al ICRNY- din nou, pentru cine nu stie- poate sa caute pe net, nu vreau sa promovez in nici un fel afirmatiile facute pentru ca mi se pare ca abia tipul acesta de reactie si de scandal face de ras romania. acesti dinozauri nu reprezinta romania. noi o reprezentam. noi reprezentam cultura romana. nu aveti ce sa faceti. nu aveti ce sa NE faceti. libertatea exista. si voi nu mai aveti cum sa schimbati asta. nu trebuie decat sa recunoasteti ca ati imbatranit si ca razboiul vostru a trecut. voi stiti asta si de asta va e frica si de asta va zbateti atat de tare. lasati-o jos. it's fuckin OVER. am auzit ca aseara a avut loc si dreptul la replica al lui Cristi pe antena3. nu am apucat sa il vad. am gasit in schimb un drept la replica pe net pe care il puteti citi </strong></span><a href="http://www.zoso.ro/2008/08/cristi-neagoe-drept-la-replica.html"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>aici</strong></span></a><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>. si pana cand lumea nu va intelege despre ce e vorba, toti cei care simtiti ca aveti ceva de spus in povestea asta, si sumteti implicati indirect prin faptul ca sunteti romani si traiti acelasi cosmar propagandist si scuristo- mascat si cenzurator care va poate afecta in orice moment libertatea si viata, puteti reactiona. e nevoie de asta ca sa se inteleaga clar ca acesti mineri ai culturii nu ne vor da si noua in cap ca in iunie 1990 parintilor nostri. </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>vera ion, </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>regizor si dramaturg ROMAN</strong></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-67021543375272388702008-06-04T18:16:00.000-07:002008-06-04T18:55:28.680-07:00older stuff from older notebooksdin nou agende mai vechi. ma rog. probabil asta e una din noptile alea in care te uiti mult in spate. "ma rog" a fost pus de fapt de complezenta. chiar e una din noptile in care stai si te uiti mult in spate. nu-mi vine sa cred cate povesti, cati oameni. am gasit scrisori de la oameni despre care nu numai ca nu mai stiam ca exista, dar nici acum nu imi amintesc exact cine sunt, desi gasec teancuri de 20 si de scrisori. decat foarte vag. si gasesc scrisori ale mele, <em>multe, </em>scrisori pe hartie, din perioade - iarasi- arhivate si bagate la zipp. perioade in care imi e acuma aproape imposibil sa inteleg cat de mult puteam sa iubesc pe cineva, si cat de simpla, clara si pura putea sa fie chestia asta. un exemplu:<br />o scrisoare de aproximativ acum zece ani. zece ani, my fuckin god. tot nu imi dau seama ce inseamna zece ani in timpul meu interior. zece ani in timpul exterior mi se pare ingrozitor de mult. intre mine si punctul din care scriam scrisoarea aia, mi se pare intr-un fel ca nu a trecut asa mult. intr-un fel. intr-un fel a trecut mult, in alt fel nu a trecut asa mult. intr-un fel au trecut cinsprezece sau douazeci de vieti intregi de atunci. in alt fel... ok. mai citim o data. transcriem:<br />(transcriem cu x. in loc de numele real, pentru protectia martorilor. ca sa imi aduc aminte ca scriu pe un blog- <em>public. </em>chestie care intr-un fel mi se pare mai cinstita pentru ca aproape intotdeauna cand scriam in jurnale aveam dorintza hipersecreta ca intr-o zi cineva sa descopere si sa citeasca tot. si sa descopere ce sensibila sunt eu. ) deci, scrisoarea:<br /><br />"<em>mic si cocarjat vei iesi din dragostea mea, nici eu nu te voi mai recunoaste si oricum va fi prea tarziu te vei lua de mana si vei fugi, nu pot cuprinde TOT cu ochiul, si daca pot misca muntii, pe tine nu te voi misca niciodata iubindu-te atat de tare incat mica si cocarjata voi fi dupa ce dragostea asta va fi altceva, nimeni nu te va mai recunoaste, nici chiar tu.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>asta e ritmul. x. se zbate in sine. x. roteste scrumiera. x. face ca un urangutan. Veronica e fascinata. Veronica de fapt nu vrea sa se opreasca scrumiera, de fapt nu vrea sa se termine coniacul, Vasconi ne fura mintzile, x. o pupa pe frunte si deci Veronica nu poate fi decat fericita o secunda poate chiar mai mult. Apoi o apuca rasul aiurea pe strazi si e bucuroasa ca iubirea- concept general ar putea-o salva de la moarte, ar putea -mai stii?- sa-l salveze si pe el de la moarte, desi nimeni nu poate concepe ca x. ar putea sa moara vreodata prin urmare Veronica inca poate sa rada aiurea pe strazi si sa aiba 18 ani, nu ca asta ar insemna ceva. dar e reconfortant, inca sunt tanara. veronica trece prin mai multe persoane si ar vrea sa fie mai mult decat e, ar vrea sa ia premii si sa alerge la x. si sa-i spuna ca e desteapta, e premianta, e ceva de capul ei. x. mai zambeste din cand in cand si atunci chiar e frumos totul, atunci nu mai e frig si nici praf pe strazi. veronica stie ca ar trebui sa fie mai serioasa, ca ar trebui sa fie altfel dar x. exista si asta nu poate fi decat un lucru bun, un lucru care cere neaparat multa dragoste, iar Veronica e facuta pentru asta.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Sunt multe lucruri ciudate pe lumea asta. Unul din ele ar fi ca Veronica il iubeste pe x. de trei ani si ca acum este foarte fericita, stie ca sunt prieteni si asta conteaza cel mai mult.</em>"<br /><br />nu. m-am inselat. acum sunt <em>foarte </em>departe din momentul scrierii acelei scrisori. atat de departe ca nici nu imi vine sa cred ca exista, si ca lucrurile puteau fi asa simple si curate atunci.<br /><br />puii mei. o fi din cauza exploziei informationale ca nu mai esti atent la oameni? acum cred cu convingere ca lumea e fututa dincolo de orice limite. acum zece ani, scriam despre Dumnezeu. pana si aceste doua afirmatii arata cat de mult se pot schimba lucrurile in timp.<br /><br />inseamna oare ca nu mai credem in nimic? nu. credem in tot felul de chestii. numai ca intre timp am constientizat (inca nu pe deplin, dar procesul de constientizare se intampla day by day by day) o chestie pe care tot x. a zis-o, acum multi ani: "tu o sa mori nebuna si singura."<br />doamne-ajuta.<br /><br />(ps- acum am primit un IM de la cineva pe care il ignor: "e trist ca ma ignori". ce sa raspunzi la asta? )verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-52941105551501125942008-06-04T13:52:00.000-07:002008-06-04T14:01:27.105-07:00chestii mai vechi de prin agende1.lacurile pe care ne plimbam se umfla si coboara<br />te-ai descaltat pe marginea lacului si stai cu picioarele in apa.<br />luminile casei scanteii.<br />muzicile amestecate de la petru terase diferite.<br />o conversatie. noi. un caine alb.<br />aerul se umfla si coboara. ne curg balele.<br />n-am luat suc. n-avem apa. cine se duce sa ia un suc.<br />daca treci pe dalele din cleshtar din mijlocul parcului<br />s-ar putea sa intri in alta dimensiune<br />s-ar putea sa te strecori prin cea mai stramta fisura ca o<br />frunza lunga de lotus care imi sectioneaza memoria.<br />pamantul e plin de astfel de gauri. mii de ochisori ne privesc<br />din fiecare unghi al pamantului.<br />o pasare trece pe cer ca o cometa.<br /><br />2.criminalistica descompusa<br />picioare taiate<br />ochiul tau de tigru ma izbeshte-n spate.<br />merg pe dunga alba<br />pe autostrada<br />si musc din pancarta.<br /><br />pancarta intrarii in oras poarta amprente.<br />stii cine a trecut pe aici. poti recompune totul.<br />da o limba pe rugina de la "bine ati venit" ca sa<br />simti gustul orasului<br />sudoarea muncitorilor<br />femeile gravide care au implantat<br />cate doi prunci in cate un apatament<br />cosurile lor cu cumparaturi<br />simti freamatul de la primul caine care trece<br />pe langa tine<br />scaietii din blana lui<br />laba din fata vopsita<br />ochiul cu cataracta<br />si intra si intra<br />nimic nu te impiedica sa vii<br />la noi in bucatarie.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-63005798429844075642008-05-27T15:25:00.000-07:002008-05-27T15:26:52.673-07:00newMelancolie baby melancolie orasul asta ar fi atat de dragut<br />Daca am gati impreuna si am iesi pe balcon la o tigara sa privim<br />Mallul care se construieste vizavi pana cand rasare soarele si noi strigam betzi<br />Hituri pop la munictorii in veste galbene.<br /><br />*<br /><br />Melancolie baby sa ne tinem de mana pana cand imi transpira palmele<br />Si eu ma sterg pe shest de blugi si itzi dau mana inapoi<br />Palmele tale nu cred ca transpira<br />Terorist cipriot arab gay(ish) cu nume de erou<br />Probabil ca in cel mult doua saptamani pana si amintirile mele despre tine<br />O sa fie o amintire<br />De exemplu cand ne-am cunoscut tu te spalai pe maini<br />Eu faceam pipi in cabina de langa si<br />m-am gandit hm ce chestie intima un tip sa se spele pe maini si tu<br />sa faci pipi langa ca si cum nu s-ar intampla nimic deosebit<br /><br />*<br /><br />Fantezia mea secreta e sa-ti fac o poza – sa-ti pozez palma<br />Si sa-mi pun poza asta background pe telefonul meu nokia3110.<br /><br />*<br /><br />E bine daca ma inspira sa scriu texte<br />Chestia asta- chiar inseamna ceva. Pana maine cand ajung in expirat<br />Si e cu totul alta zi<br />Si te scufunzi din nou in bucuresti si te intalnesti<br />Cu cel putin cativa fosti care iti dau sa fumezi. Running against time.<br />Pana maine scriu textele astea si ma gandesc la tine.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-1895998062616010252008-05-27T15:16:00.000-07:002008-05-27T15:25:15.658-07:00old1.M-am saturat de amintiri. Ca in filmul ala cu jim carrey vreau sa te parasesc in amintiri.<br />In toate filmele din ce in ce mai destramate<br />In toate bucatzile de memorie in care ai ramas vreau sa-ti dau un picior<br />Cu cate membre mai am in bucatzile alea de amintire a mea<br />Vreau sa fug asha schiloada<br />Inspre alte imagini din capul meu.<br />M-am plictisit de filmele cu tine si<br />De putrefactia lor<br />Nu poti sa regenerezi amintirile am incercat in photoshop<br />Cu bucatzi de imagine peste alte bucatzi de imagine<br />Esti o garantzie putrefacta a faptului ca timp de o luna am fost fericita si nu mi-a mai trebuit nimic altceva<br />Si paianjenii si viermii au inceput sa iasa din aceasta luna<br />Ca dintr-un caine calcat de tir<br />Creierii lui lassie si ai tuturor cainilor din copilarie<br />Storcoshiti de pavaj<br />Nu, daca ai vedea toate astea nu ai merge cu mine de mana<br />Pe aleile pline de caini morti si de miros de camera inchisa<br />In care cineva a tot borat de aproape doi ani de fiecare data<br />Cand ii era dor de tine. Obiectele pe care mi le-ai dat sunt si ele niste cadavre.<br />Bratzara pe care ai gasit-o pe plaja intr-o zi insorita si mi-ai dat-o<br />Si pe care am purtat-o un an<br />Acum e o mortaciune si plaja s-a umplut de oameni schiopi<br />Sangeranzi si cu ochii scurshi pe fatza cu carnea dezlipindu-se in<br />Nisipul de 100 de grade.<br /><br /><br />2.aseara casa mea era atat de trista incat ma simtzeam ca bukowski<br />singur cu un pahar de alcool pus in echilibru pe marginea fotoliului<br />si cateva haine la uscat inghesuite pe calorifer.<br />cand a sunat de dimineatza telefonul l-am urat<br />cu o greatza de betziv singur. ash fi vrut un barbat care sa ma iubeasca<br />pana dimineatza si in schimb am stat alaturi de laptopul meu stricat si impotent<br />si m-am uitat la otv.<br /><br /><br />3.Cv limba romana.<br />Sunt asa dragutza in fata webcam-ului ca aproape nu vreau sa ma uit la mine.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-35725694367144394162008-02-21T05:33:00.000-08:002008-02-21T05:53:13.512-08:00cate contexte atatea pretextepoate spatiul in care te misti e de fapt doar in capul tau- imperii si imperii de harti- deschizandu-se pe orizontala- nu stiu de ce dar asha le vad, pe orizontala, ca taramuril magice din jocuri; ca pajistile pe care zburda cate un copil pierdut - reminiscentza de imagine din <em>atonement</em>, filmu, campii inca inainte de a incepe orice razboi. poate spatiul dureaza din momentul in care aprinzi kibritul si pana cand focul atinge capatul tigarii- poate ca spatiul incepe abia dupa. dupa primul fum. sau se termina. ash vrea sa vad cum se insiruie in cap ca niste folii transparente toate imaginile si proiectiile si luminile si cum arata cand cateva din foliile astea imprimate foarte foarte fin se suprapun. cred ca sa te plimbi prin toata marea asta de imagini si de umbre ar fi suficient pentru o viatza intreaga. alimentat cu ce se intampla in the real world, de care nu poti sa te rupi si nici n-ai avea de ce- si apoi back in the fukin laboratory. nu-i asha, totzi avem cate un mic dexter inside.<br />stiti la e ma gandesc? m-am gandit mult la asta. daca poti <em>intelege</em> cu adevarat ca exista crima pe lumea asta, atunci esti si tu un criminal.<br />suntem complici. suntem cu totii complici. ignorantzi cat sa putem sa construim si noi, <em>ashea, </em>un trai cat de cat. daca toti am realiza pe bune in ce cacat s-a ajuns in lumea asta, daca am <em>realiza </em>asta, cred ca ne-am imprastia toti ca bilele de mercur dandu-ne cap in cap si urland- nu se poate.<br /><br />stiti ce e funny? reactia pe care o ai cand te uiti la un film cu razboi si simti asa senzatia aia de boring, iar un film cu razboi, undeva gandul ala apare in cap si te dai un pic in spate. lumea se plictiseste la filme sau la documentare cu razboi. a, iar se omoara aia acolo. iar sange. iar cu baioneta-n piept. sa-mi fut una, ce imbecili am ajuns. e plictisitoare o imagine cu inca 100 de cadavre dezbracate semiputrezite intr-o groapa comuna. e plictisitoare imaginea nu stiu caruia impuscat in frunte, cu puntuletzul, bulina aia rosie stacojie si firicelul de sange care se scurge din ea. e boring. cat de complet idioti am ajuns. cat la sute folosim din creier? un cacat. ce folosesti? un cacat. cacatul si superficialitatea din mine. talking through me. suntem niste complici dragalashi. suntem varza.<br /><br />nu mai stiu de la ce am pornit. cat iti ia de la a intelege ca exista crima, pana la a ucide pe cineva?<br /><br />totul tzine de context, mi se va raspunde de undeva din off. sa nu-ti dea domnu cate contexte poti duce.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-28730673013282578972008-02-20T19:23:00.000-08:002008-02-21T00:44:25.314-08:00.aici nu exista scapare<br />esthi prins exact aici- orice itzi vei aduce aminte<br />orice itzi vei imagina in viitor<br />nu exista.<br />nu exista amintiri<br />nu exista imagini in capul tau<br />nu exista decat<br />mirosul de aici<br />lumina de aici<br />ora de aici<br />mobila si oamenii<br />si geamurile care ne inconjoara.<br />sau strazile care ne inconjoara.<br />contextul creierului nostru<br />pulverizat<br />explodat<br />maxim<br />pana nu mai ramane nimic<br />nici macar cum ar trebui<br />sa te uiti la ceilalti conform<br />identitatii tale<br />oricum de cacat.<br />aici. no chance to escape.<br />aici. no way round.<br />aici. no memories. blow those fuckin<br />polaroids away.<br />blow those fuckin parasites away.<br />blow your eyes away.<br />blow your face away.<br />blow every fuckin memory<br />and any way of thinkin<br />about what<br />or i don't know<br />about what<br />you dream in future.<br />there is no future. no tomorrow. nothing<br />except<br />aici<br />acum.<br />aici si aici si<br />aici si acum. in marele gol din jur.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-53688333844217619842008-02-13T12:36:00.000-08:002008-02-13T12:48:38.383-08:00.<span style="color:#6633ff;">situatie context reprezentare</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">acuarele si hartie creponata intrebarea- si daca nu vede nimeni telefoanele fosforescente</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">pe care le desenez pe hartia creponata</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">ce rost au </span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">ce rost are daca nu ai the reward o bratzara gay primita de ziua mea si</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">ar trebui </span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">sa luam o pauza in care sa plutim ca nishte fiintze gelatinoase prin atmosfera gri a bucurestiului</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">intersectandu-ne fara reguli unul cu altul</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">daca toate fobiile noastre adunate mai suporta vreo intersectare.</span><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;"></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-5037036654971441992007-11-19T17:37:00.000-08:002007-11-19T17:50:45.641-08:00.<span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>baga muzica baga baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>click baga baga net baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>baga poze baga baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>muzica baga linkuri baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>facebook baga wordpress baga yahoo.360</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>sau cum s-o chema baga baga tags art smart </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>baga sms im sm s</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>baga baga mess baga baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>coffee and cigarettes baga mailuri</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>mail mail baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>text baga 20 de pagini la ora 3</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>39 de pagini la ora 5 baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>liniste play baga baga muzica</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>nu liniste baga parazitii baga ms. soda</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>baga cibo matto baga 12 days of christmas baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>facebook baga blog baga abitir baga monged baga</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>esemeses s</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>si skill si stil baga trupe noi</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>in concert </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>the key safety match the key</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>the k</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>the e-bay who may</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>harm or protect or delay</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>your stay</strong></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-35957571964020084802007-11-19T15:41:00.000-08:002007-11-19T17:36:14.441-08:00.<span style="color:#999999;"><strong>road trip in mintea ta uneori cuplat cu lumea alteori nu<br />filmele care se fac in cap ah le-am avut de la un an dar atunci<br />nu stiam ce inseamna sa-ti faci filme atunci ca si la 5<br />ca si la 8 ca si la 16 prindeam mai multe posturi si vedeam mai multe filme suprapuse dar nu stiam ca asta nu inseamna nimic altceva decat ca ai tu filme in capul tau<br />abia acum am inceput sa mai inteleg abia acum am inceput sa mai fac diferentele acum exista nuante si atmosfere si cadre si sepia sau pop-ups sau explozii<br />in capul meu despre care stiu ca e un multiplex<br />despre care stiu ca e un wembley plin de 10000 de oameni care urla in cor pe aceeasi muzica<br />si toti oamenii aia sunt eu </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><strong>mi-e frica uneori sa ating oamenii<br />ceilalti si sunt</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><strong> si ei </strong></span><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><strong>atat de multi<br /><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#999999;"><strong></strong></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-62650284338949121762007-11-02T09:30:00.000-07:002007-11-02T09:48:01.759-07:00.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RytREMuAXWI/AAAAAAAAAFI/zAcYnYZlVEo/s1600-h/sticker_push.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128281733266955618" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RytREMuAXWI/AAAAAAAAAFI/zAcYnYZlVEo/s400/sticker_push.jpg" border="0" /></a>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-49529699263028917042007-10-04T04:53:00.000-07:002007-10-04T04:59:33.488-07:00cata gratie<span style="color:#00cccc;">sensibilitate </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">altercatie </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">rezistenta </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">rezolutie </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">solutie </span><span style="color:#00cccc;">percutie </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">permutatie</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">combinator combinatie just justitie revelion batalion revolutie</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">scursura democratie </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">acid </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">somn gaura neagra semnal lichid </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">fese </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">trompa uter</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">dans <span style="color:#ff99ff;"><strong>ba da ba nu</strong></span> </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">toamna monument parc funerar</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">lamurire lamurit mort murit senzatie</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">maine va fi o zi maine este o zi maine este</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">pe drum </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">cu viteza sexului </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">goliciune pat </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">des bracat</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">des bracare </span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">baraca gol gol gol</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">fereastra deschisa post de radio </span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">gatlej <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">psihopedagogie</span></strong> pedriatie </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">perdut pierdut tunel tunel </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">intuneric </span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">mucegai muraturi cascaval.</span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">o senzatie de frig imi cutremura oasele.<br /></span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-87362583120198495352007-09-04T09:49:00.000-07:002007-09-04T09:50:25.469-07:00la scena, 13 septembrie<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rt2Msp3oHWI/AAAAAAAAAE4/5W0Z5Qo2Bkk/s1600-h/print-monged-la-scena.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106392251289312610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rt2Msp3oHWI/AAAAAAAAAE4/5W0Z5Qo2Bkk/s400/print-monged-la-scena.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-11768037341437340622007-09-02T03:52:00.000-07:002007-09-02T03:53:37.749-07:00luni 3 septembrie ora 19:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtqWGp3oHNI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bGpXwRZZBgY/s1600-h/invitatie_lectura.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105558168640429266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtqWGp3oHNI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bGpXwRZZBgY/s400/invitatie_lectura.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-22612739070529639282007-08-25T05:59:00.000-07:002007-08-25T09:05:47.111-07:00other trips<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtAtU53oHMI/AAAAAAAAADs/x3R9D4JITe8/s1600-h/diverse+027.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtArBJ3oHKI/AAAAAAAAADc/1TUWuzongHY/s1600-h/IMGA0411.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102625676639870114" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtArBJ3oHKI/AAAAAAAAADc/1TUWuzongHY/s400/IMGA0411.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtAp653oHJI/AAAAAAAAADU/ihcNUXwG7rQ/s1600-h/IMGA0248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102624469754059922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtAp653oHJI/AAAAAAAAADU/ihcNUXwG7rQ/s400/IMGA0248.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtApP53oHII/AAAAAAAAADM/vj_XNC4EesY/s1600-h/IMGA0196.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102623731019684994" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtApP53oHII/AAAAAAAAADM/vj_XNC4EesY/s400/IMGA0196.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtAoip3oHHI/AAAAAAAAADE/tEEVzUkI5YA/s1600-h/IMGA0090.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102622953630604402" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RtAoip3oHHI/AAAAAAAAADE/tEEVzUkI5YA/s400/IMGA0090.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div></div></div></div></div>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-73070251534013068682007-07-01T10:53:00.000-07:002007-07-01T11:35:16.107-07:00google trip<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>"Floarea soarelui"</strong></span> </div><div></div><div><div> </div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofqh8h-7MI/AAAAAAAAAAk/K-2Um4g3h1E/s1600-h/floarea.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082288573416139970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofqh8h-7MI/AAAAAAAAAAk/K-2Um4g3h1E/s320/floarea.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Roftxsh-7RI/AAAAAAAAABM/PcxbjbGL8Vw/s1600-h/soarelui.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082292142533963026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Roftxsh-7RI/AAAAAAAAABM/PcxbjbGL8Vw/s320/soarelui.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div> </div><div>(- un mic experiment. gasesti o formulare, propozitie, fraza, expresie, alaturare de cuvinte, gen "floarea soarelui". dai search pe google imagini mai intai un cuvant, primul, si alegi o imagine din multitudinea de imagini de acolo. apoi urmatorul cuvant, si alegi o imagine care sa se potriveasca intr-un fel sau altul cu prima. singurul criteriu ar fi cumva intuitiv. precum se vede mai sus, floarea soarelui creeaza o un sir de imagini- asta fiind tripul pe care l-am facut eu, evident ca fiecare "autor" are un trip diferit pentru aceeasi expresie. altele, mai jos.)<br /><br /></div></div><div><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>"Hai hui"</strong><br /></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofwq8h-7ZI/AAAAAAAAACM/j5qXl818wWI/s1600-h/hai.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082295325104729490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofwq8h-7ZI/AAAAAAAAACM/j5qXl818wWI/s400/hai.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082296205573025202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RofxeMh-7bI/AAAAAAAAACc/k5Cv-xCVqbc/s400/hui.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">"La dracu"</span></strong></div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofx4ch-7cI/AAAAAAAAACk/haVk6LegqPc/s1600-h/la.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082296656544591298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/Rofx4ch-7cI/AAAAAAAAACk/haVk6LegqPc/s400/la.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082296905652694482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RofyG8h-7dI/AAAAAAAAACs/oEiVtruOJXU/s400/dracu.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">"Te iubesc"<br /></span></strong><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RofyXsh-7eI/AAAAAAAAAC0/77_-0tmP4Cg/s1600-h/te.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082297193415503330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RofyXsh-7eI/AAAAAAAAAC0/77_-0tmP4Cg/s400/te.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082297511243083250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rFSHOZrEXY0/RofyqMh-7fI/AAAAAAAAAC8/lvsI6vVZtF8/s400/iubesc.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span style="color:#33ff33;"><strong>(ps- de ce nu mai scriu in engleza?- pen ca asha e-n vieatza. lol.)</strong></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-32073269057602843982007-02-20T16:42:00.000-08:002007-02-20T17:08:22.604-08:00remember 2006yes 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.<br />u2.<br />ok.<br />i know now i want to go back to london,<br />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.<br />i will smoke ganja in every park of london just for you, you know.<br />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...<br />fuck.<br />i never know why i write here.<br />i missed you a lot. i still do.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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 <em>learned </em>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...<br />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.<br />i want to keep everything as alive as it can be.<br />you changed me. a lot.<br />maybe someday at 90 years old we will have breakfast together again.<br />bacon and eggs, huh?<br />and lots of coffee.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-88090213789868035002007-02-12T03:55:00.000-08:002007-02-09T06:14:38.736-08:00...love love love what can i do<br />gotta work and keep myself<br />up<br />but the thought of you makes everything pop.<br /><br /><br />(which is one of the nicest and shiniest love poems ever )<br /><br />it's an unnatural spring<br /><br />and, as they say, i got a head with wings.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-34017134525376196282007-02-04T08:07:00.000-08:002007-02-04T08:08:23.243-08:00no no no<span style="color:#003300;">I hate power trips.</span>verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-25993971277006150782007-02-02T09:52:00.000-08:002007-02-02T12:46:04.544-08:00closer?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.<br />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.<br />well, well, well. little amelie me.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-70985073264959550732007-01-08T06:27:00.000-08:002007-01-08T06:50:12.364-08:00stand byi am sooooo fucked.<br />hard to recognize myself after 4 days of fuckin' our brains out.<br />I don't understand how people dealt with pshychological terror during the communist regime, and now we are not able to deal with the bad-luck and bad-will and stuff like that. Last night, after we canceled the show, i was like getting so drunk and even now my whining ego says that it's so much easier to junk yourself out, but you know, with fury and despise, you know the feeling, russian-like despair... such a cute little way of being your own perfect outraged victim. but i can't believe in it.<br />anyway, to junk yourself out is always a solution but not to defy the destiny, fuck it, the world we live in is so mixed up that strong emotions like that can't last more than a few hours for real- and after that it's just social disguise.<br />i want to write the perfect fairy tale for a city like this one and play it with puppets.<br />this is the next project.<br />urban superheroes and urban fairytale, urban and more.<br />have to find... i forgot what.<br />the music of felix kubin is very good for the starting point of this story.<br />and i talked to kostea about internet theatre upgrading.<br />writing different versions for a play, and upgrades and giving free license for everybody.<br />fuck the copyright and fuck the license. mironghiu said it so nice, that internet is the new communism of information. <a href="http://miron-ghiu.blogspot.com/">http://miron-ghiu.blogspot.com/</a><br />well, then no property. only intellectual moral property.<br />what i don't understand is what the fuck will happen with <em>monged</em>? It seems like a nightmare, first we could't have the proper preview because the teachers could't come, anf after the holidays, we couldn't even rehearse properly because the heating system broke down at the casandra studio.<br />and now we have to wait another week.<br />crazeeee.<br />demented.<br />wickeeed.<br />and rock'n'roll.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37345795.post-23069690921949044262007-01-03T15:18:00.000-08:002007-01-03T15:54:37.600-08:00make the show shorter?this city is like a beast. sometimes it crushes you sometimes you can keep it friendly near you like a huge dog. a white one. or a huge golden retriever.<br />i will start the rehearsals again tomorrow. but the news is that the casandra studio is under water now. hahahahahahahahaha. soome pipes exploded. that's what the manager of the theatre told me today.<br />back to redbull and rehearsing.<br />had the time of my life on 31. fireworks and drunk people on the streets but no tension. no stress. dancing until the next day and the next night and wearing my new friendly hat in the few hours i slept, in a bed with (i think ) snow white's dwarfs. no kidding. i will leave this as the mistery between years, but i swear i had the impression that we were 4 of the 7 dwarfs from the story. but snow white had left the building.<br />i discovered that i use very much even in my romanian-language ego the word "friendly". a friendly city, a friendly hat, a friendly sweater, a friendly music... does this mean that i somehow have the fear of being agressed in some way or another? maybe i have some problems. some freak longing for balance and turning the music or the tv off everytime she goes into her own house? maybe i'm just sensitive. i mean, i can listen to music, but only my music. no tv, no radio, and especially no fuckin' adriano celentano or stefan hrusca.<br />well, that's it. but no problem.<br />as nadia bowers would say- "<em>we just kept on walking!</em>". nadia is a great blonde russian american human being and actress and i'm sure i will have her among the readers of this very helpful source of security and balance which organizes your thinking into pixels and cold harmless fuckin' internet waves. my psychological terror explodes with every Ctrl+S and every Enter pushes me into a realm of calm and contemplation.<br />damn. i should go to sleep. tomorrow long hard day. tomorrow be responsible. i have to cut the text (to make the show shorter) and this will <em>really</em> hurt.verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07921550312047153593noreply@blogger.com0