marți, 30 martie 2010

Intrebare

Poezie poezie
Asta mi-o dedic mie
Daca vrei ti-o las si tie
Daca vrei sa fie viata vie
Iesi afara si traieste
Caci ea se cam iroseste
Pe patu mortii stai o zi
Ce faci cu celelalte douazeci-si-cinci de mi?

vineri, 26 martie 2010

Invers

Luminile s-au stins demult, dar diferenta e minima. Caldura inca ma apasa in garsoniera de la 7. Stau singur, fara somn si nu stiu ce sa fac. E atat de cald incat ma plimb gol pusca prin apartament. Vecinii s-au plans de asta, ca m-au vazut la trei, patru noaptea gol, asa ca am perdelele trase.
Singura lumina vine de la un laptop trantit pe pat, alaturi de o scrumiera care trebuia curatata acu doua saptamani si un pachet pe jumatate gol de tigari. Hainele-mi sunt aruncate peste tot.
Dau drumu la televizor, dar nu gasesc nimic mai interesant decat B1 TV care arata Piata Universitatii toata noaptea. Live.
Incantator.
Ies pe balcon cu o tigara aprinsa, ma asez pe scaunu care-a fost odata alb. Racoarea plasticului ma invigoreaza. Daca vecinii au o problema sa ma pupe in curu meu gol. Ce fel de distrus nu doarme la ora asta? Uneori mi-e greu sa cred ca mai sunt in afara mea.
Iluminate, se vad pe orizont doispe macarale. Se vad inca vreo patru in timpu zilei. Luna nu se vede de pe balconu meu, dar cateva stele tot imi fac cu ochiul. Trag adanc din tigara si fac niste cerculete de fum care precum visele o iau inspre cer si-si dau duhul.
In Bucuresti nu e niciodata liniste. Din cand in cand se mai aude o masina singuratica pe sosea, si ca un murmum pot auzi cum traieste orasul. In timpul nu zilei nu-l pot auzi. Sunt prea multe sunete mai puternice, sunt prea multi oameni care fac la randul lor sunete, vibratii. Dar noaptea pot auzi Bucurestiul. Sunetul e incomparabil, aproape ca sunetul marii de la departare dar mai constant. Aproape ca o bataie de inima inghetata in timp, dar si ca o mare creatura dormind, pasnic.
Ma gandesc sa-mi fac de mancare. Mai bine nu. Inseamna sa aprind lumina, sa caut mancare, s-o fac. Prea complicat.
Imi mai aprind o tigara. Se aprinde o lumina in zare. Incet, incet ma apropii de inceputul zilei. Corpul mi se ridica din scaun si intra inapoi, dar mintea-mi e inca in spatiu cosmic prinsa intr-o fractiune de timp care se tot repeta. Abia dupa cateva secunda imi dau seama ca undeva in subconstient m-am decis sa ies din apartament. Somn nu mai prind, cum corpul aparent imi stia de multa vreme.
Imi pun un sort de baschet, un tricou si o pereche de adidasi, imi ridic cheia de pe masina de spalat de langa usa, ies pe hol si trag usa dupa mine. Bag cheia in usa, intorc de doua ori si reflexiv strecor cheia in buzunar.
In holul destul de bine intretinut astept liftul. Imi amintesc ca ar fi trebuit sa curat scrumiera si sa duc gunoiul. Cand ma intorc.
Dupa cele 30 de secunde de rigoare in lift, cu toate zgomotele ingrijoratoare, memorate din obicei, am iesit in fata blocului. Inspir adanc de parca aerul ar fi mai curat aici jos, dar macar sunt niste pomi sa-mi dea putin adevar la iluzie. Picioarele ma duc stradutele intunecate pana pe bulevard. O iau inspre Victoriei. Undeva in distanta se aude un girofar.
Sunt absolut singur. Ma simt de parca am cazut cumva in vis, un vis in care nimic nu conteaza, un vis in care orice-as face nu are consecinta. Doar ca nu are cum sa fie vis, pentru ca inca ma deranjeaza piciorul drept care l-am dat de o treapta incercand sa prind un metrou.
E foarte frumos, sau cel putin asa mi se pare mie. Peste tot in jur sunt semne de incercare, semne succes, si mai des, semne de esec. Nicaieri in lume nu ma simt mai in viata. Sau mai bine zis, inconjurat de viata.
Mi-as aprinde o tigara, dar parca nu vreau. Parca n-am nevoie. Imi tin procesul de eliminare a cinci minute din viata pentru mai incolo. Surad la ideea ca o tigara imi ia cinci minute din viata. Cum vad eu lucrurile, e pentru ca imi ia cinci minute sa fumez o tigara, deci da, cinci minute in minus.
Imi place, pardon, ador singuratatea. Poate ca m-am obisnuit cu ea prea mult. Poate ca e scrisa in mine de la inceput. Stiu doar, ca altfel abia mai stiu sa traiesc. Orice decizii am facut, orice circumstante am avut, la sfarsit am ajuns intotdeauna, inevitabil, singur. Poate ca in subconstient m-am condus singur aici. Sau poate ca sunt doar inca un distrus care bate drumurile si gura degeaba.
Ajuns langa un parculet, ma asez pe o banca. In stanga mea, cerul devine gri. Inceputul unei noi zile, sfarsitul unei vechi nopti. Si nimic nu s-a schimbat, decat ca mi-am apropiat data comei din lipsa de somn. Uneori incerc sa-mi dau seama daca m-am miscat prea repede sau prea incet. Acum e unul din acele uneori-uri. Ma gasesc privind inspre rasarit, hipnotic, cu constientul (oarecum) cantarind aceste optiuni. Daca oare am trecut cu vederea ceva important, sau daca a fost altul mai rapid ca mine si a ajuns primul.
-Pizda ma-sii de treaba, imi soptesc, si cu dezgust imi aprind inca o papiroasa. Trece pe langa mine o minune rar vazuta de mine. Un 301 gol. Deci e trecut de cinci.
Cand naiba s-a luminat?
Imi arunc mucul intr-o balta si continui sa o iau aiurea-n tramvai. La non-stop nu deschide decat la sase. Sunt aproape de pace, pentru ca mintea, pentru cateva secunde pretioase imi sta in loc. Ca in bancul cu reporteru care merge la baci si-l intreaba -Ce faci bade, sezi si cugeti? la care baciul ii raspunde -Ba, numa sad.
Urmandu-mi picioarele am ajuns la tunelul Victoriei. Ma intorc si o iau inapoi. Ar trebui sa fie deja destul de tarziu s-o iau spre magazin.
Ma trece un tramvai, si imi trece prin minte sa alerg dupa el, dar imi trece repede ideea cand mai pun piciorul in pamant odata. Ajung dupa cateva minute la magazin. Placerea iesitului mi-a trecut de mult timp si incep sa regret faptul ca nu mi-am facut de mancare cu ceva vreme mai inainte. In magazin sunt lovit de o dilema. Sa-mi iau paine si branza sau niste lapte si cereale. Dupa o adanca cautare in sinele meu, ajung la casierita pe jumatate adormita cu un litru de lapte si niste rotogoale de zahar si cacao.
In fata blocului ma trece un moment de pura panica pana imi gasesc cartela de la scara. Intru in hol, liftul inca acolo. Aparent sunt singurul destul de distrus. Cel putin in scara.
In garsoniera ma injur cand vad ca n-am stins nici televizoru nici laptopu. Imi pun cerealele si laptele intr-un castron, le duc in fata televizorului si le pun pe masuta. Trec pe la buda sa-mi golesc rezervoru. Ma asez in fata Pietii Universitatii. Live. Schimb pe un documentar despre pesti pe Discovery. Ma gandesc ca zaharul din micul dejun o sa ma tina treaz restu zilei, si poate dorm la noapte.
Pe dracu, ca dupa ce imping castronul acum maroniu imi pun capu pe o parte si acolo raman pana la miezu zilei.

Face-Off

The two men eye each other across the desk. The two, maybe three seconds of mental sizing-up of the opponent gives both of them just enough time to notice each others flaws. Suit has a throbbing vein on his forehead that, with each heartbeat, brings T-shirt closer to a nervous breakdown. T-shirt's scruffiness bring out Suit's flowered tie, school principal instincts that make him want to punish this kid.
They stare into each others' eyes, trying to break down their opponents through stares. Suit's glare is full of authoritarian confidence while T-shirt stares back with a relaxed intensity that confuses Suit. He notices that the toothpaste stain on the collar of his polo makes Suit's eye twitch every time he turns it his way. He tries to take advantage of this to discomfort his nemesis.
Suit tries to play it cool, not to concede anything to this blatant abuse of conformity coming from this example of what is all wrong with today's youth. But he just can't. He strokes what little is left of his hair back and suddenly regrets it as he looks towards T-shirt's full head of hair, and the atrocity of keeping it in such a short buzzcut nearly kills him. His jealousy eats him up from inside. T-shirt lets out a small breath exposing a slightly crooked tooth that nags Suit for a reason he cannot explain.
T-shirt observes his quarry with disdain. He watches as the balding man strokes his silk tie as he undoes his jacket to sit down. The atmosphere reaches a peak point. The moment has come. The time for circling each other is nearing a close, and one must come out the glorious victor.
“So, you want to be the Product Placement and Promotion manager?” Suit's dull, monotonous corporate voice speaks, breaking under the strain of silent battle.
“Oh, yeah, it's been a lifelong dream of mine to stack shelves in a supermarket.”

luni, 22 martie 2010

Meditation

The cold air burns my nose, my throat, my chest, it's honest, cold, unforgiving. Normally a walk would do me just fine. Not now. I need to run, to run and not look back for a long time. I need to exhaust myself completely. Return to my origins. My lungs screaming for forgiveness, my legs weak from slipping on the thin ice that spreads around the pavement. My skin prickling with frozen sweat. I need to get free.
No more. No more trust, no more belief, no more anything. No more anyone. Me, myself and I.
I was born alone, I will live alone.
I was born sufficient, so I will live sufficiently.
There's no point in risking myself for the small fleeting joys that the heart can feel, so I'll freeze it to death, and if fitting it will beat again. I'll be reborn. Better. Faster. Stronger. Exhausted. Free.
And if not, I'll go with it.
The dim streetlights begin to twinkle, they're flashing bright in my eyes. I'm losing myself. I'm losing control, losing it to nothingness. Finally.

marți, 16 martie 2010

Beauty of The Beast

A couple months ago I was asking around because I had this question in my mind bugging me to death, and I couldn't answer it in any way that satisfied me. Ask the people!
Anyways, the question was "Is life worth living without beauty?"
The shit bugged me out, because generally beauty is the only thing that brings a smile, a true, honest, simple smile to my lips. But then I thought, not necessarily. Sometimes beauty makes me think, sometimes it brings back certain feelings, and sometimes it's just there with no reaction from me. Just beautiful.
To bring things into context, I was feeling that my life was lacking in beauty.
The most common answer I got was no. Yet most people were compelled to share further, not that I mind, just a small observation. Long answers short, generally the answer was no, but that it can be found if needed/wanted.

It's in the eye of the beholder. And for the cynical and practical dreamer it's in the ear.

Music is my beauty. No matter what, music is my mental Mona Lisa. More expressive.

duminică, 14 martie 2010

Fine Line / Suicide Letter

As I watch the life pour out of me
My mind it pushed me
To write in ink
What made me think
That there's no more worth in living and
Waiting on death to knock and
Take me out without
The slightest warning
There's no more living left in me

One day you'll see
Things just like me
One day you'll be
On the edge and waiting for
Another hope
She'll come and go
Die out and float
Into the sky
Like every dream, give hope and die

I'm giving up on the eternal lie
The "I'll find peace and then I'll die"
It's over too soon, it's over too late
You can call it chance or you can call it fate
But once more hope I can't create
Done hoping that I'll once be great

There's a fine line between
A smile and tears

duminică, 7 martie 2010

shady aftermath

You ever seen pictures of warzones on TV or a magazine?
You ever seen those movies with crazy-ass american college parties?
Well, if you have, combining the two gives you a decent idea of my morning. Add a splitting headache, cotton mouth, a swolen wrist (I have no idea where that come from) and a feeling that I'd rather be dead than deal with anything right now.
Dissapointment, sure.
Maybe I overdid it a bit too much. I'm used to overdoing it, but this was some other world shit. I always think I'm untouchable. And the one thing that any drunken person cannot do is say "no mas". Maybe I drink too much because I never get the girl. Or maybe I never get the girl because I drink too much. Who knows? Fuck it... Who CARES? All I want now is a litre of coffee, and IV water. Watch two hours of Chappelle Show and pass the fuck out until summer. Summer 2020.
My utopia is to have people come in, dance, drink, kiss, break up, make up, make love, all the expectations from a party without the damages. Without the aftermath of having to put a 3 roomer back together from pieces. Alone. I love parties. Parties are my life, and I'm the life of a party. People simply seem to become beasts... worse, animals would have some logic. Rhyno's eat overripened fruit to get wasted, and then they just pass out peacefully. They don't go fucking up the forest, breaking shit, puking all over the goddamn place.
A word on the effects of alcohol. Very interesting I find the fact that for the first three, four hours max you want to be free, to have no strings attached fun, to hit and run. After that comes the inevitable melancholy and apathy. You liver starts screaming, fuck you, I'm tired of this!! Give me a break!! Even killers get a one hour break a day. I bet if I killed your ass you'd stop drinking! And then, the inevitable hangover, where all you want in terms of socialization is someone with which you can simply curl up, happy, safe, in love. You feel like shit. I feel like shit. I don't know if it's the same for everyone else, but all other hungover people look as bad as I feel.
Well, it's about that time where I gotta get back to work. Already got 8 full trash bags. Goddamn, at least I can be proud. I still have the best party in town.
Oh, and if you're wondering why I'm taking it this lightly, it's because there's a very very small difference between a smile and tears.

miercuri, 3 martie 2010

To Light From Dark

The rain has come
Another thorn has grown
Feels like love is now forever gone
The once red seduction
Of a perfect rose complexion
Now only brings tear induction
Confusion
Delusion
Illusion that
Things might once bounce back
To light from dark

Just remember pretty eyes
Don't forget, show off that smile
From the rain
A young rose will grow
From the pain
New love will glow

sâmbătă, 20 februarie 2010

Take Five

In momentul de fata ascult niste muzica jazz. Mai exact ascult cvartetul Dave Brubeck. Unul din lucrurile care face muzica jazz superb de ascultat este faptul ca nu exista un singur instrument sa straluceasca asupra celorlalte, ci toate functioneaza intr-un tandem perfect in care lipsa sau adaugarea unui instrument ar distruge fuziunea sonora ce creeaza muzica. Nu ceva care suna bine. Muzica.
Un lucru interesant este ca in spatele fiecarui instrument se afla un om. Si nici unul din acesti oameni nu par sa fie interesati in a straluci personal. Prin muzica lor se simte ca sunt fericiti sa lucreze in tandem ca sa creeze ceva superb. Nu ceva specaculos, individual. Ceva superb prin cooperatie.
Oamenii sunt o specie interesanta, am spus-o de multe ori pana acum si voi continua sa o spun pana nu ma mai surprinde ceva la oameni (nu prea vad sa se intample) sau pana mor (mai probabil). Ne mandrim cu faptul ca suntem singura specie care gandeste individual, liber, inafara instinctelor de supravietuire, materne, paterne, de reproducere etc. Si aceasta libertate de gandire a dat nastere la multe lucruri incredibile. Carti, piese de teatru, inventii, descoperiri si da, muzica. Ne mandrim cu individualitatea si unicitatea noastra, si vrem sa fim recunoscuti pentru diferentele noastre, vrem sa fim apreciati pentru lucrurile care le-am facut individual.
Dar, ne mai numim si creaturi sociale. Si asta e adevarat. Mai adevarat, poate. In schimb nu prea dovada ca chiar suntem creaturi sociale. Dar pentru fiecare pilon al societatii, pentru fiecare geniu artistic sau stiintific sau logic recunoscut sunt o suta de nerecunoscuti. Si si mai interesant, pentru fiecare descoperire, pentru fiecare opera de arta exista nevoie de inspiratie. Si foarte des, inspiratia vine de la alti oameni, chiar daca doar unul este recunoscut pentru aceasta creatie.
Sunt multi maestri in ziua de azi. In muzica, in stiinta in toate domeniile. Si in general acesti maestri sunt urmati. Dar cand acesti maestri sunt impreunati, sa creeze ca o singura entitate, in general, ceva care chiar iese in evidenta este produsul. Nu ma credeti? Atunci ascultati, si vedeti.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmDDOFXSgAs

marți, 9 februarie 2010

December 20 2012

Everything around is white. The rioting crowds, the warning signs, the scarred buildings, all the horrible things that followed the confirmation that "Yes, the world will end" are finally hidden.
There is barely any life left around the planet.
There is barely and sound that can be heard.
The aurora borealis shines so beautifully over the white desert that used to be New York City. It's sublime. It's peaceful. As if mother earth is ridding herself of us in one final act of supreme grace, beauty, calm, calculated, soft. Motherly.
She covers her beautiful self in a white gown of water. She is being born again.

Everyone predicted fires, tidal waves, meteor showers. Nature is too strong to be bothered with shows of force. Three months ago, it started snowing. It hasn't stopped. I am, or I think I am, the last living person. On top of the Empire State Building, I'm about as high as if I was sitting on a beached tree trunk.

As I close my eyes, I know, tonight is my last night. I love the snow, I love the quiet, I love the end. For the first time in my life, I have experienced a happy ending. I only regret that I cannot share this moment, this pure pure moment with someone. I wish I could watch this moment in silence, with company. Nothing is perfect, except for nature.

I curl up as much as I can under all the clothes and blankets I have, I take a last look at the beautiful sky and I am at peace. Tomorrow is my end.

Tomorrow is a new beggining, tomorrow is healing, and what better way to heal than under a thick cover of pure white snow. Just like a bandage...

Dreams

I can barely move. It's five in the morning. I gotta get up. Gotta get up.
I almost literaly crawl to the mirror. Split lip. Black eye. Bruised ribs. A couple of drops of blood are still crusted onto the skin underneath my nose. Still, underneath all the time on my face I can almost see that chubby little kid in the back of the classroom hiding a pad under his notebooks, writing another verse.
It's freezing. I look around for a sweater, a hoody, a shirt. I settle for the blanket on the couch and wrap myself inside it. I take a last look at the mirror.... Jesus Christ... I fucked up somewhere along the road.
It started out all right, I was a kid, I had my dreams, I did dumb things, I grew up and suddenly I had to clean up my own messes but still it worked out. Somehow, it was all good, I had somewhere to come back every night, I had someone to hold in my arms and kiss and love every night. I sold my first bag of weed at age fourteen. Extra cash I said. Good extra cash if truth be told. I was gonna be a ball player, a DJ, a rapper. Fuck...almost seven years later and now I'm a pharmacy on feet to make rent and grub. And I'm not the only one. Q.E.D. I can barely move this morning. Good and bad at the same time. I didn't lose nothing. Bad...I didn't have shit to start with.
Sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, I just want to stop time now. It ain't a great situation but the morning is quiet, the best part of each day. How I'm sitting, I'm almost comfortable, almost not hurting. So exhausted I'm almost at peace just doing nothing. My mind floats into a place that I'm comfortable, into a place that makes sense, somewhere nice, a place that doesn't care about where you're from, what you look like, who you hang out with, a place where all of it is erased. A place where the light shines bright, a place you can pay respects, a place you can speak your mind. A place where after all the bullshit getting there, you're finaly free. A stage.

And now I'm in the limelight
'Cause I rhyme tight
I've got no fright
Not anymore
I'm no longer a whore
For another druglord
I can do my thing
No I never won a champion's ring
No I never stepped with Tyson in the ring
No I never liked the bling-bling
Man I just love to sing
Speak my mind
In my words wisdom you find
Street smarts from something way behind
Now I'm someone else
My history melts
The pain and joy I've felt
Easy money
Easy honeys
Now I'm another man
Now I got a plan
Change the game
Fuck the fame
I came up here
Without no fear
'Cause I felt a lack
In the stylistic attack of rap


One day, man... One day I'll get out the game and do something I can be proud of.



TWO YEARS LATER


Another cold morning, another day for the pharmacist, another opportunity for someone to end it all. But no longer do the features of a hidden child wink at me from the mirror. It's all gone. It doesn't even matter anymore. What's the point? After all, dealer, user, rich, poor, famous, unknown. When it's all said and done.... Well... It's done. Dead.
I no longer dream of getting out. Now I save up...

I want a new couch damnit, this one's driving me crazy. I can barely sleep on it anymore. Shit, that may just be guilt keeping me awake. Anyway, my soul's with my dreams. Fucked.

joi, 4 februarie 2010

True Love

True love occurs from time to time
And every time, it's something sublime
Every now and then
Be it once or twice or ten
There's something you do
Or someone you see
And if you keep on doing it
When no one else could give a shit
Then you've found your love is true
Because you keep it just for you.

marți, 2 februarie 2010

"Intr-o zi...

...prietenia se intalneste cu dragostea. Se prezinta fiecare, apoi dragostea intreaba prietenia: -Daca exist eu, tu ce rost mai ai? Prietenia, razand, raspunde: -Eu las un zambet unde tu lasi o lacrima."


In urma cu vreo doi ani am fost intrebat cine conteaza mai mult, iubita sau prietenii. Am raspuns, instinctiv, prietenii. Nu am elaborat.
Acum, inspirat de un status de mes, m-am decis sa elaborez, de ce consider prietenii mai importanti decat iubirea. Oricum, la urma urmei, este o iubire mai... sincera.
Oricate zambete, oricate momente de fericire, oricate saruturi si nopti albe impreuna cu iubirea, la sfarsit, oricare sfarsit ar fi el, nu este niciodata fericit. Intotdeauna lasa o lacrima, intotdeauna lasa in urma o rana, o cicatrice, o urma. Si aceste urme ne definesc, ne fac mai atenti, din ce in ce mai neincrezatori, mai agresivi, mai selectivi. Ne inraiesc, si ne hranesc sentimentele de durere, de dezlipire cu lumea. Dar la urma urmei, ne fac mai rai. Mai abrazivi. Nu spun ca ar trebui ignorata iubirea, ci spun ca trebuie tratata ca atare. Se termina.
Si prietenii. Prieteni.

Prietenii sunt cei pe umarul carora plangem in urma iubirii. Prietenii sunt cei pe care ii stim din copilarie sau cei pe care nu ii stim de o vreme prea lunga dar exista o sinteza. Un loc de inceput pentru povestile care vor fi zise cu un an, doi, cinci in viitor. Prietenii sunt singurul motiv pentru care chiar merita sa sacrificam ceva in mod repetat in lumea de azi, unde totul in jurul nostru se misca atat de repede, cu atatea topuri sociale, pentru ca una din frumusetile prieteniei nu este ca prietenul iti pazeste spatele, ci ca tu ii pazesti spatele lui. Prietenia este cea mai pura forma de iubire inafara cadrului familiei, pentru ca nu exista altceva sa stea in calea acestei iubiri... pure. Nu exista dorinte fizice. Si oricat de multa fericire se afla in satisfacerea unei nevoi fizice, o fericire mult mai puternica se afla in a fi printre prieteni, conversand aiurea decat fortarea unei conversatii intr-o incercare disperata (aici vorbesc mai mult la masculin, ca la feminin e muuuuuult mai usor) sa satisfacem niste nevoi sexuale.
Iubirea ne duce naibi. Prietenii ne aduc inapoi pe pamant.

Nu fugiti de iubire, nu va fie frica sa traiti. Dar nu va uitati prietenii. Nu va ignorati instinctul.

joi, 14 ianuarie 2010

Ce-i cu toate ismenele astea?

Tineti minte romana de clasa a 6-a?
Orele de analiza?
In special, neologismul. Un cuvant cu -ism. Destul de inocent.

Acum ganditi-va la restul -ismelor de care suferim.

Rasism. Misoginism. Feminism. Sovinism. Nationalism.

Mai sunt destule, toate facute sa diferentieze, dar ca idee de plecare inspre un examen menit pentru picare, de ce incercam sa ne diferentiem atat de mult, si mai important, sa ne distantam?

marți, 12 ianuarie 2010

Forta

Astazi, in mijlocul unei aventuri motoristice, precum fiecare iesire cu masina prin strazile din nairobi se dovedeste sa fie, am fost lovit de o inspiratie... nu divina, ci cred ca mai aproape de naturala.
Asteptand sa fac o banala curba stanga, in spatele unui cacalau de 10 masini, vezica urinara a transmis creierului ca este la capacitate maxima, si ca presiunea ar putea cauza o eliminare nedorita de lichid galben, urat mirositor in orice clipa. In alte cuvinte, m-a taiat o pisare groaznica. In acest fel, strazile pline de gropi, biciclisti, vanzatori de porumb, haine sau iarba au devenit un veritabil traseu de off-road in goana nebuna dupa un coltisor de lume caruia nu-i pasa, sau nu are puterea sa o zica daca i-ar pasa, daca imi elimin produsele menajere.
Asadar, am descoperit forta cea mai puternica a omului, care poate elimina factori de logica, sentiment, sau lips fizic.

Urina.

Sau, pentru a generaliza aceasta fraza "existentiala", nevoia. Nevoia de mancare, nevoia de apa, nevoia la buda, nevoia de sex, nevoia de acceptare, nevoia de iubire, nevoia de control. Pe scurt, suntem condusi de nevoii fizice, intelectuale si emotionale. Aceste nevoi ne pun pe cai care ne-ar putea aduce in drumul unui rau fizic, in drumul unei iluzii ca nevoia a fost indeplinita, sau in tot felul de locuri in care, normal, nu am patrunde, fie ele intr-un spatiu fizic sau intr-o stare mentala, emotionala, fizica, simtita propriu.
Traim pentru niste nevoi, niste nevoi asupra carora nu avem nici un pic de control. Fie ca sunt reactii chimice in sistemul central nervos, sau niste fenomene fizice in acelasi sistem daca suntem mai stiintifici, sau aduse asupra noastra de o putere X sau Y, daca suntem mai spirituali, sau ca "asta e viata", daca suntem mai indiferenti, adevarul este ca avem nevoi, pe care trebuie sa le satisfacem. Unele mai importante ca altele, dar tot trebuie satisfacute.
Deci, suntem sclavi.
Traim pentru nevoi.
Ele ne controleaza cursul vietii.
Nu putem face mai nimic sa schimbam asta.
Suntem sclavi.

Dar daca nu avem nevoi... de ce sa mai traim?
Numai din asta putem trage fericire. Din implinirea a ceva care lipsea.
Un pictor spunea ca frumusetea este cand toate partile functioneaza in tandem, cand nimic nu mai trebuie (nu mai este nevoie; pentru a fi clar) adaugat sau eliminat. Interesant ca in momentele de fericire nu mai simti nevoie pentru nimic in afara de, eventuala.... pisare.

Traim pentru nevoi, si cine n-are nevoi sa se duca-n fericirea lui.

luni, 4 ianuarie 2010

Fara sine

Nisipul imi mangaie picioarele cu fiecare pas pe care il fac pe aceasta plaja intunecata. Nu pot vedea mai departe decat unde-mi va cadea urmatorul pas, si nici nu vreau. Singur, complet singur, in bratele unei racori umede, inconjurat de intuneric si soaptele valurilor, chemandu-ma, chemandu-ma, sunt impacat. Nu fericit. Nu, mai intens, pentru ca opus fericirii fiecare simt imi este ascutit, dar nu imi spune ca trebuie sa imi fie frica de ceva. Sunt doar eu, si sunt impacat.
Cat timp nu ma opresc, cat timp nu stau sa admir unde am ajuns, cat timp ma bucur de calatorie, de miscarea lenta prin taramul nimanui, pot ramane in aceasta sfera a timpului, globul de craciun cel mai frumos de pe brad. Fara nevoi. Fara constiinta. Fara sine.

sâmbătă, 2 ianuarie 2010

think it through

I think, therefore I am.
Whoever came up with this shit?

I am, therefore I think.

vineri, 1 ianuarie 2010

Serviciu' in folosu' comunitatii

La multi ani oameni buni, (umple-ti spatiul cu ce urari va doriti de la mine).


Imi cer scuze ca nu am postat asta inainte de petrecerea de revelion cum intentionam. Pentru ca alaturi de urari repetate si ras-repetate reflexiv, pentru ca e o responsabilitate sa fim draguti de sarbatori, vine si o inevitabile destrabalare. Si exista efecte secundare. Mahmureli, indragostire, despartire, trezirea din coma peste trei zile fara pic de amintire din momentul trecerii.


Nu pot ajuta cu dragostea sau cu o trezire din coma, dar pot cu mahmureala.
Asadar.... metodele mele testate pentru a evita sau ameliora o mahmureala.

1. Cel mai simplu.... nu bea, dar asta nu e distractiv pentru nimeni.....

2. Inainte de pierderea constiintei, consuma doua analgezice.

3. In timpul consumului complet iresponsabil de alcool (ca altfel, din nou, nu-i distractiv) bea apa si mananca paine prajita sau.... surprize surprize, banane. Merge

4. Dimineata, sau dupa dimineata, cand te trezesti, bea o bere.

5. Favoritul meu, nu iesi din betie.

Acesta este un post deschis, rog opinii, alte metode si voi continua sa adaug.
La multi ani, la multi bani, la prietenii, si multe betii.