Tuesday, September 28, 2010

zveri



toate problemele inghesuite in mintea mea imi provoaca greata:

1.pff
2.pff
3.pff
4.R...
5.teama de o ratare absoluta
6.sentimentul de singulara singuratate
7.m-am ingrasat
8.nu mai sunt eu. uneori sunt tot ceea ce vad / vor ceilalti sa vada. sunt tot ceea ce pot fi mai rau. cum zicea Cheloo Iti ramane doar sa te razbuni pe tine
Caci e mai usor sa fi rau cand vrei sa fi bun si n-ai cu cine ['fericit']
9.detalii mai mult sau mai putin importante
10.facultatea. pe care oricat de mult as incerca sa o fac o prioritate ajung mereu sa o las la urma...
11.limba rusa de care nu m-am mai atins de vreo 2 luni (decat cand ascultam 'Zveri' de la Nautilus)
nu am cu cine sa vorbesc despre lucrurile astea asa ca le pun pe blog. Fiend doarme acum... si oricum, m-am saturat sa vorbesc cu prietenii ( si cu oricine intreaba, uneori) despre astfel de chestii; vad in privirea lor un amestec ciudat de compasiune, plictiseala si acel ' si eu ce sa-ti fac?! n-am cum sa te ajut ' ... si mi-e sila de mine, de toata situatia asta de rahat si de ideea de a starni cuiva compasiune ( ca sa nu zic 'mila' - grotesc cuvant!)
=>mi-e sila ca probabil starnesc mila celor din jur
=>mi-e sila ca cei care nu ma cunosc cred ca am un aer de superioritate
=>mi-e sila ca sunt considerata elitista - de parca asta ar fi un lucru rau (nu e. sunt doar un om cu principii si idealuri. am tras mereu de mine chiar si atunci cand nu puteam asa ca nu-mi veni sa-mi psui ca as fi putut face lucrurile mai bine when you haven't been in my shoes - btw, my black converse are old, ruggy and always dirty)
=> mi-e sila ca sigur maine va fi mai greu iar eu nu stiu pana unde am sa mai cad si cat am sa mai pot sa ma ridic
=>mi-e sila cand stiu ca sunt un diamant ingropat in gunoi - poti sa interpretezi asta cum vrei daca esti tampit. dar e doar un alt adevar care nu serveste la nimic.
=>mi-e sila de medioritatea pe care parca o aud batand la usa pentru a-mi alunga sperantele desarte de homo novus
=>mi-e sila ca nu pot sa arat cum imi place fara ca tot tramvaiul sa se uite la mine si sa comenteze (ok, la inceput era amuzant, dar acum ca mi-a mai crescut parul si dupa o luna de show cotidian pana si 'performerii' ca mine se plictisesc)
MI-E SILA! MI-E SILA! MI-E SILA!
=>mi-e sila de cosmarurile teribile pe care le am in ultimele luni
=>mi-e sila de ceea ce visez cu ochii deschisi, de locurile perfecte din mintea mea care ma fac sa ma intreb daca mai are vreo importanta ce fac in realitatea asta unde oricat de mult m-as stradui nu-mi iese bine

iar Spike

da nu e ce vreau sa fac
eu am alte planuri in cap
n`am ajuns cu ele aici doar sa se faca praf
oare unde`am gresit?
oare ce sa`ntamplat?
o fi fost ceva ce`a trebuit sa`nvat si mi`a scapat?


da si tu stii ca`i exact cum o zic
ai uitat ca`ntre timp viata te`a mai ingropat umpic
visele de`atunci nu`ti ajuta la nimic
si vrei macar pentru o clipa sa te`ntorci in timp [ niciodata ]

Poți să'ntinzi o mana, sau sa privești cu ura
Senzația e dura, când ma scufund în liniște pura
Oricât de mult ar suna a tragedie
Pot sa ţi'o spun ca pe o gluma sau ca pe o poezie
Intens. Priveşte'ma cu interes adânc în ochi
Sa vezi, răbdarea cu care ma uit fix așteptând sa crapi.
Probleme care vreau sa le'ngrop când dorm
Ma trezesc brutal, dimineața când sunt rupt de somn
Şi'mi aduc aminte de mine și printre cuvinte
Întreb in fata oglinzii "Ia zi, cine pe cine minte?"
Nu vreau sa par asa depășit ca tine

Versuri Spike - Amintiri (corect)
de pe http://www.versuri.ro
Dar păcat ca tu ești eu, si n'are cum să'mi para bine
Nu'mi amintesc nimic, nimic asta înseamna
Nu ca nu'mi aduc aminte, doar ca nu vreau, ma
Vreau sa trăiesc cu gându', ca mâine e maine, știi
Şi sper sa treacă mai repede ca azi. Ma p.ş pe ea de zi.
N'am sa fug de'acasa, știu ca asta vreți, pe bune.
Am sa stau pe capu vostru, pana va umplu de spume
Ca nu sunt bou debarcat din arca lu' Noe
Dacă ma găsești pe o insula pustie, am plecat de buna voie.

Nimeni nu vrea sa spună, nici în rău nici în gluma
Faptul ca uneori numai găsesc scăpare
Când se'aduna chestii care te marchează
Si pana la urma, ii tragi după tine
Pe toți care'ti întind o mana. [amintiri]

Monday, September 27, 2010

aceluiasi

(Reflex 108)
Prea repede uităm ce-aveam în gând,
Sub apăsarea vorbelor de rând!
Nici nu mă strigi de tot, nici nu mă laşi...
E-atâta ezitare între paşi.
Prea repede uităm ce-aveam de spus -
Un zbor în minus, o cădere în plus...
La tine-i vară şi la mine-i frig,
Nici nu te las de tot, nici nu te strig.

autor: George Tarnea

V.Z.B

these past weeks have been a sort of highschool revival only that sometimes it seems more awesome whilst other times it is a lot shittier. i mean, the feeling of riotish teens and that holy friendship things is still on, but it is stronger.
so, what does growing old really mean? cuz for us it's just like being little kids on an island full of dangers and cruel situations - a place where people seem to always disappoint, betray or just mistake you for something else.
that inuendo waz a bit too long... deal is i'm waiting for Zagga, Bubu and ( especially) Veve to come back from shopping so we can start prepare a tiramisu cake and laugh like we do everytime we meet in the kitchen and smoke some cigarettes.it's actually very cute in a way... *big shinny smile*
the only problem is i have yet another cheap shitty job and don't have time for much.
the other very awesome thing (except for friends) is that i have THEATRE! i have ART! and tomorrow i star my acting classes! hurray!!!

until then, we cook cookie! :D

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

dedicat tuturor celor care considera tara mea o tara de cacat

ok. doar pentru ca 9500 de oameni au protestat nu inseamna ca ei reprezinta acest popor. pe mine nu ma reprezinta deloc. protestati alaturi de liderii vostrii sindicali care sunt la fel de jmecheri ca si cei impotriva carora va azmut. imi faceti greata! mase de manevra ati fost si ati evoluat doar pana la statutul de mase de sacrificiu. imi pare rau, poate pentru ca mi-am sustinut prea des optiunile politice si multi stiu pe cine am votat... dar nu depsre asta este vorba.
am mai zis si repet: O TARA CA A NOASTRA NU POATE IESI DINTR-O CRIZA MONDIALA CA PRIN FARMEC LA SCHIMBAREA GUVERNULUI. culoarea politica a regimului din Romania nu a influentat in vreun fel criza mondiala, deci,ba, mioriticilor, criza ca in care va situati nu este determinata de guvern ci de idiotenia care va caracterizeaza (si care caracterizeaza populatia globala indiferent de regimul politic particular).
celor carora nu le place aceasta tara le recomand cu caldura SA SE DUCA IN SPANIA, IN ITALIA, IN SUA - SA PLECE! sa va vad acolo, ma!
... da' nu plecati voi, ma. nu plecati, ca sunteti lenesi, sau nu va adaptati repede etc. asa ca ramaneti aici. ca sa va plangeti. sa ziceti ca e o tara de cacat. fara sa recunoasteti ca in alta nu ati fi tolerati asa cum sunteti: neghiobi.
vorba ceea: unde esti tu, TEPES doamne, ca punand mana pe ei
sa-i imparti in doua cete: in smintiti si in misei? (citat din memorie)
acuma, pa bune, urasc generalizarile, da' de exemplare din astea ma lovesc zilnic (oi fi eu ghinionista sau chiar asa sunt majoritatea ...)smintiti si misei. huo!

1. FA TU CEVA BUN SI ABIA APOI COMENTEAZA!
2. NU CRITICA CE NU AI FI CABABIL SA FACI TU INSUTI
3. FII TU BUN, BA, SI ABIA APOI CRITICA-L PE 'ALA RAU' DE LANGA TINE
4. UITA-TE IN OGLINDA. DA-O DRACU' DE TREABA, TIE NU TI-E JENA CU PERSOANA TA?!


PS: eu in 89 aveam cateva luni. voi nu aveti nicio scuza!
... in schimb aveti pretentia ca ati schimbat un regim prost, de lipsa de libertate cu unul democratic si net superior. mi-e sila de voi. sunteti doar de umplutura. sincera sa fiu, habar nu am de ce existati pe lume. probabil doar pentru ca cei care detin puterea, controlul sa aiba ce supune si manevra - ca daca ar vrea, v-ar anihila ca pe moliile din reclama la raid. trust me on this. it doesn't even take too much. da' le place sa va chinuie si baga tot felul de legi care va ingradesc si pun norme de diverse chestii cum e cel pentru alimente care practic interzice nush cate remedii naturiste si faze de genu.
ba, oscilez intre mila, dispret si indiferenta cand va vad, cand ma atingeti pe strada accidental sau nu, cand va luati de felul in care-mi arata parul sau hainele. cand va vad asa meschini si mici cum sunteti. cand va vad ca tocmai voi incercati sa imi dati mie lectii. cand va vad ca nu aveti idee ce e onoarea, sinceritatea sau respectul - dar toti, absolut toti incercati sa ma invatati ce e bunul-simt. ba, ma pish pe bunul-simt. pentru ca, repet, nu are nimic in comun nici cu binele, nici cu sentimentele. deci tu da-i inainte ca n-am bun-simt, chiar nu ma supar. 'bine, ca ai tu, amice! sa-ti fie de bine!' cand va vad atat de inutili, de superficiali si artificiali; atat de impotriva naturii si a frumosului. atat de indoleti si infatuati incat pana si cel mai retardat dintre voi are un grad de aroganta.
ahhh, pe bune, ma, plecati din tara asta. pelcatii cu totii care nu va simtiti bine aici. poate ca vom ramane putini, dar vom ramane aia bunii zic io.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

what i want and don't want

get me out of my mind,
get you out of those clothes...


fitter, happier, more productive.
like a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.

slaving for freedom - the sickest thing to do.

Oh honey do all the things I'd never do to you
Cover me in fire
Cover me in lies
Thats' just your entertainment
Sorry i'm upset
Walked a mile behind
I was stuck and you still in a daze


pana la urma treaba sta cam asa:

Love hangs herself
With the bedsheets in her cell
Threw myself on fires for you
10 good reasons to stay alive
10 good reasons that I can't find

Oh, give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, give me one reason to be beautiful
Oh, and everything I am

Love hates you
I live my life in ruins for you
And for all your secrets kept
I squashed the blossom and the blossom's
dead

Oh, give me a reason to beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, and I will make myself so beautiful
Oh, and everything I am

Miles and miles of perfect skin
I swear I do, I fit right in
My love burns through everything
I cannot breathe
Miles and miles of perfect sin
I swear, I said, I fit right in
I fit right in your perfect skin
I cannot breathe

Hey, baby, take it all the way....down
Hey, baby, taste me anyway
Oh, you were born
So pretty oh summerbabe
We'll never know...
And fading like a rose

Give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, just sell me your soul
I'll give you my body, just sell me your soul
Oh, and everything I am will be bought
and sold
Oh, and everything I am will turn hard
and cold


And they say in the end
You'll get bitter just like them
And they steal your heart away
When the fire goes out you better learn
to fake
It's better to rise than fade away...

Hey you were right
Named a star for your eyes
Did you freeze did you weep
Turn to gold, baby, sleep

HEY, HONEY MINE
I WAZ THERE ALL THE TIME
AND I WEEP AT YOUR FEET
AND IT RAINS AND RAINS.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

!@#$%^&*()_+


cred ca nimeni nu ma poate satisface pentru ca nu se poate ridica la nivelul imaginatiei mele.


hai... te provoc!


crezi ca poti fi mai bun decat mi te imaginez?



+_)(*&^%$#@!

my guy is smart too...

An actor must interpret life, and in order to do so must be willing to accept all the experiences life has to offer. In fact, he must seek out more of life than life puts at his feet.

Only the gentle are ever really strong.

Studying cows, pigs and chickens can help an actor develop his character. There are a lot of things I learned from animals. One was that they couldn't hiss or boo me.


The gratification comes in the doing, not in the results.


The only greatness for man is immortality.

When an actor plays a scene exactly the way a director orders, it isn't acting. It's following instructions. Anyone with the physical qualifications can do that.

To grasp the full significance of life is the actor's duty; to interpret it his problem; and to express it his dedication.

Trust and belief are two prime considerations. You must not allow yourself to be opinionated.

If a man can bridge the gap between life and death, if he can live on after he's dead, then maybe he was a great man.

I also became close to nature, and am now able to appreciate the beauty with which this world is endowed.

Being a good actor isn't easy. Being a man is even harder. I want to be both before I'm done.


Being an actor is the loneliest thing in the world. You are all alone with your concentration and imagination, and that's all you have.


But you can't show some far off idyllic conception of behavior if you want the kids to come and see the picture. You've got to show what it's really like, and try to reach them on their own grounds.


Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today.



you've just finished reading some famous James Dean words!

love

i thing i'm in love with this great guy!

he's name is James Dean.

i think he's dead...

dead. so what?! there are worse things than that!

yeah, worse things than the guy you love being dead - for example, the lak of character is A LOT WORSE than being dead.

hai sa scriu [iar] penibil

o iubire mortala nu este o iubire moarta.

penibil,nu?
se poate si mai rau:

o iubire mortala nu este o iubire moarta este o iubire pe viata si pe moarte!






sentimente atat de puternice incat se prefac in scrum, in dorinta de a spune 'nu', in dorinta de a te uita complet sau doar de a te retrograda la stadiul de 'esti un idiot ca toti ceilalti'. dar din fiecare ardere se naste stupida si plina de speranta o noua pasare Pheonix. si se naste doar ca sa arda. doar ca sa arda...

Monday, September 13, 2010

WICKED GAME [HQ] Chris Isaak

La naiba! De ce? Nu!
La naiba, de ce nu?!...

eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani

this is a poem that a friend poet just showed me: Howl by Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997). IT'S PURE MADNESS!
here are some of the excerpts i liked best:



I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia

with mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

I'm with you in Rockland

where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I'm with you in Rockland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

HANDMADE

have you ever felt ashamed of being alive? have you , for one moment, felt embarrassed that you had two hands that work perfectly, eyes good enough to see the people you like and the sky? have you ever felt ashamed you are complete? did you feel selfish because you wanted so much more than a bed and some food? have you ever judged yourself as greedy because notting was enough for you,or good enough, or perfect beyond this world's standards? have you ever looked at your fellow man and feel mortified? do you know how it is to feel so strong, hard as steel and so above the rest that you were afraid to look at them and see them so small, like you were tremendous and they were just ants? do you? did you feel that? have you felt the numbness that this sensation of power gives - because it's almost unreal, it's probably just make believe?
i did. and i like to think that it is make believe because i can make what i believe into.




THIS IS IT.


I...
DUNNO...
I JUST DON'T KNOW...



BUT I CAN FEEL IT.

KKK

cred ca am mai zis ca unii cred ca eu sunt ipocrita, materialista sau ca profit de oameni. chestii care mereu m-au socat. cacat... nu incerc sa-mi ridic statuie ci doar sa-mi exprim niste frustrari cretine provocate de faptul ca se pare ca nici dracu' nu e in stare sa se uite la mine si sa ma priveasca asa cum sunt. nu e chiar un soc sa realizez ca oamenii se asteapta sa-si vada defectele proprii reflectate in cel de langa - dar...
prieteni si rude imi reproseaza ca nu castig bani. e adevarat, nu incerc sa imi gasesc un nou job unde sa fiu platita cu gen 7 lei pe ora pentru ca am impresia ca o ora din viata mea valoreaza un pic mai mult ( poate 10 lei?! ). stiu, in cacat, am un pic de tupeu. am 21 de ani, am o engleza aproape perfecta, o franceza buna si o rup un pic si pe italiana si spaniola, mai invat si rusa. hmm, poate ar trebui sa spal veceuri?
mda, ar cam trebui sa-mi cunosc lungul nasului pentru ca provin dintr-o familie cu venituri relativ modeste si prima bicicleta mi-am cumparat-o in clasa 8 dintr-un mini job de vara. stiu, sunt cam lenesa. cand altii aveau biciclete de mici de la 'moshu', io stateam sa vand intr-un magazin de tara pentru lucruri pe care unii trebuie doar sa le ceara. si stii ce? tot oamenii aia ma intreaba pe mine de ce nu am un job. de ce nu am un alt job de rahat. de ce nu am o alta slujba care sa-mi consume timpul (in care as putea sa invat pentru facultate) si nervii, sa-mi aduca banii suficienti pentru mancare si doua beri.
a, da. si tot ce ai retinut din ce-am scris pana acum e ca ma plang si ca nu vreau sa muncesc ca tot romanu de rand. poate ca ai dreptate. si stii ce? TE LAS PE TINE SA FII ROMANUL DE RAND. io ma multumesc cu altceva.
da, nu dau doi bani pe sfaturile celor care nu au principii cat de cat similare si idealuri inalte. sunt cam elitista. si in ruptul capului nu am sa accept compromisul omului de mijloc. nu am sa accept sa muncesc doar pentru bani si comfort. si nu, astea nu-s complexe de superioritate. stiu ce vreau. daca nu pot exprima in cuvinte inseamna doar ca nu e necesar. claritatea oricum nu poate fi exprimata cu adevarat prin cuvinte. sunt ades insuficient de expresive. ideea era ca, spre deosebire de cei care imi dau mie sfaturi, eu stiu ca am sa fac ceva mai mult. ceva care sa ramana macar cativa ani dupa moartea mea in memorie. chiar ca am ceva tupeu!... evident, nu pot sti cu sigurnata daca am sa reusesc, dar vorba aia, am sa mor incercand si in plus: prefer sa mor in zdrente stiind ca am aspirat spre inaltimi decat sa mor in comfortul unei case anoste ( sau chiar luxoase) cu docilitatea unui animal intr-o cusca ( a se asculta Radiohead- Fitter Happier).

va pup, aceeasi fata imprevizibila, ipocrita, falsa, materialista, lenesa, egoista etc

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Geology basics



no, i do not own the rights for this cartune. i did not make it. a fiend sent this picture.

Thursday, September 02, 2010

Magritte

gata. am gasit. pictorul meu preferat e belgianul René Magritte 1898 - 1967!

Homesickness


in poza e chiar el (nu, nu ma refer la pictor)

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

mecanica inimii

am auzit mecanica inimii aseara. cerul era innorat, plouase si era vant. iar in laptaria lui enache ne chinuiam sa ocupam un loc si sa tacem, ascultand. cu cata nu ma vazusem din februarie, si am putut vorbi abia dupa 2 piese de teatru. dar ce sunt cuvintele in comparatie cu emotiile si simpla apropiere? (aici io zambesc cu superioritate si dispret fata de cuvinte si oamenii cuvitelor)
am auzit mecanica inimii aseara. si glasul lui marius manole plutea in aer ca o fiinta, ca mai multe fiinte.
piesa se termina sadic si abrupt cu cuvintele acestea:
daca cineva nu te iubeste cum ai vrea tu, nu inseamna cva nu te iubeste. dar daca cineva nu te iubeste asa cum ai tu nevoie, nu ezita sa cauti mai departe'