people have to do something when they suddenly have the whole weekend off. so they go shopping, buy grey shoes, they read, bake an apple pie, watch the telly and dream. they dream in the 1st moments of the morning, then they do the same when they have to drive to the city, so many minutes pass, while they’re not even aware of what goes on the street/sidewalk/outside they own blank eyes. they continue to dream when they start talking to people, give the routine answers without even bothering to notice if they’ve been understood and they browse through the daily gossip within the same old, ancient, fucking dream. this means that they mostly live absently. they’re aware on 2 things only: and one of them is that little area at the top of their rib cage (thoracic cavity they call it?) that’s incessantly receiving IT all. funny how it’s been installed there, of all places. why not the palm, or one of the cheeks?
they wonder when someone will make the touch of their knees bearable
Filed under: lies, random | Tags: beth gibbons, it's hard to keep it through, mysteries
i feel like the only thing i can put up here are songs. they don’t even say 1/3 of what’s on my mind. and why should they?
it’s exhausting. really. i might be able to continue for a whole more time, but one of the main reasons that will definitely push me away is this exhaustion. too much turmoil for.. u know, nothin. but anyways, right now, i just have to hang in there, cuz it hasn’t worn me down enough (just yet).
he gave us a test at school 2day, like a quiz of some sort, and i was supposed to name some fave books and writers and to comment on some lyrics (i just realised that lyrics in the sense of poems have become a strange notion for me.. since i’ve used this word for the last 3 years referring to song lyrics only… so weird!). I was struck by the fact that i lost my capacity of literary analysis. i mean, of course, i know it was rather primitive, nothing too specialised back then, and yet! now it was totally gone. and the questions were easy.. but i was looking at those poems.. and they felt so far off; they told me nothing at all.* those years have totally taken their toll on me.
*except maybe for this poem by Cartarescu, Steluţe în genele ei..so whimsical and delightfully bittersweet.
Ningea pe Colentina si erau stelute in genele ei.
Tramvaiul patru cotea inzapezit la Sf. Dumitru
si erau stelute, stelute, stelute in genele ei.
Ningea, ningea, ningea peste Colentina
demult, demult…
da, dragii mosului, erau…
erau stelute in genele ei.
Ningea pe firele de troleibuz, pe toneta de tichete ITB
ningea pe mustata mea si pe gagica in rosu de alaturi
tramvaiele aveau stergatoare de parbriz si erau… hai, toti in cor:
erau stelute in genele ei.
Eram student, era studenta
eram eminent, era iminenta
si erau stelute in genele ei.
Aerul era rece, tramvaiele reci
maxi-taxiurile abia infiintate
mergeau toate pe patru roate
si erau stelute in genele ei.
Ningea usurel, cu fulgi catifelati peste fabrica Stela
peste blocul lui Ghiu, peste pomii inzapeziti…
Ea spunea ceva, dar camera video n-are sonor
asa ca nu mai stiu ce spunea.
Ea ma tinea de mâna si tramvaiul patru trecea
si ningea si erau… da… da, dragii mosului…
Eu eram copil, ea era o copila
eu stateam la bloc, ea statea la vila
si erau stelute in genele ei.
Eu aveam viziuni, ea avea pandalii
restul e in “Poeme de-amor”, precum stii
dar lasati-o balta, copii:
erau stelute in genele ei.
CORUL: Erau stelute, erau stelute, erau stelu-u-ute
In ge…eeneee…leeeee… nele eeeeeeeeei!
Aici poemul ar trebui sa se incheie
dar nu inainte de-a va da o cheie
a-ntregii intâmplari:
Ea e o fata de peste blocuri si mari
acum e maritata, gravida, n-are nici o importanta.
Amorul nostru nemuritor s-a dus dracului
Acum nu mai sunt stelute in genele ei.
Acum nu mai e nici o steluta in genele ei.
Asa, ca sa stiti, dragii mosului.
i could write anything except for what i’m thinking of: my fears and my hopes. OH, WELL!
he’s the meanest dandy ever. he makes nice with the involuntary audience. all of them inevitably like him; all the fellow them find him approachable and rather decent. he knows a lil something about everything so that he won’t get caught on the wrong foot; and of course that brings him bonus points for being very adaptable. he can joke with the joker and gets eloquent with the few. he attracts and stirs laughter and emotions. he’ll always have his way…making you nervous and unsure of usually sure things. he’s like this light bulb, incandescent, insufferable and never enough. he’s become quite fond of fuckwittage and sharpens his skill whenever. he’ll offer a hand in help, and then he’ll take back with both hands and all his jacket’s pockets. he’s a prankster, a loner, capricious by definition and often boring through repetition. he fancies his wrong doings too much and that’s why…. why he’ll… just why.
jerry k., the meanest of them all.
i miss…..
going to bed at 4.. or 5 or even 6,
looking at late night movies at tv, cuz that’s then they aired the goodies (but all by surprise),
or the times a book would keep me awake a whole day, all through the night, followed by the ending while the sun was vaguely glimpsing,
taking photos everyday,
being able to remember my cuckoo dreams,
doing totally effortless thingies in college,
having the time to talk nonsense.
on the other hand, I’m glad that…
my feelings have slightly lost their appetite for that goddamn chow (maybe there’s nothing there anyways),
I keep myself busy enough not to…you know.. ,
I’m a morning person after all,
si ca am o gaza la 2 pasi de fereastra.
and yeah… it doesn’t really seem equitable.
Filed under: lies
still dunno where it comes from; could as well be true concern and empathy, resent or envy. and none makes me satisfied since they can’t get me out of this ditch. feels like with each note the stinging bee aggravates my allergy.
but on a different note I was a witness at charles&ioana’s wedding, signing the register and all. felt good to be there. congrats to the newly weds!
Filed under: comes as it goes, lies | Tags: all these people drinking love, feist
all these tiny bits of life, parts of that Life we all cling on, round me seem so very remote, pulsing away on the other side of the mirror. they say that i took it for granted and showed no true attachment since I let them stray. yet, somehow, through this haze of bluntness, I see just how frail the links are.
cuz, on days like this, when remembrance is the key word, I feel it all: the stinging gaps, the undeserved words of fondness, the incapacity to preserve the ‘real’.
but, what the fuck is this real? please, can something be more overrated than this? I’m here now, but the slightest gaze towards your fingers is enough for me to be gone.
Filed under: lies
so what were the odds?!?!
I’ve been trying to avoid this person for a while, cos I just don’t see the point… or maybe i’m just not in the mood? but could give the real motivation for my constant refusal? nooo, why not make up some lies.. or pretend to be super busy or just sick, or just not there. but it sure did strike back.. and again I wonder, what were the odds?! apparently, they were quite high, maybe cos I’ve said too many lies.
While being still in B. I told this person that I went home. guess who pinches my arm (so hard!) when I was looking at some antiques? exactly!
oh, maaan.. i suck, i suck so bad.. 
wtf is wrong with me? and I supposedly hate being lied to.
this is guilt and I am sorry.
) ).
) ). Freedom Bridge was under construction and although I walked on it, it was covered in green net so I could see no >>Duna<<. I also ate yummy Hungarian pancakes and went on Margaret Island where people did what I hate: jogging and other sports (ok, I admit I do like cycling 
).
)
the cover of new order’s “bizarre love triangle”, first listened at the concert, then a recorded fragment of it during the concert via youtube and finally in my winamp.
but it’s not very “user-friendly”
Every time i think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It’s no problem of mine but it’s a problem I find
Living a life that I can’t leave behind
There’s no sense in telling me
The wisdom of a fool won’t set you free
But that’s the way that it goes
And it’s what nobody knows
While every day my confusion grows
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I’m waiting for that final moment
You’ll say the words that I can’t say
I feel fine and I feel good
I’m feeling like I never should
Whenever I get this way, I just don’t know what to say
Why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday
I’m not sure what this could mean
I don’t think you’re what you seem
I do admit to myself
That if I hurt someone else
Then I’ll never see just what we’re meant to be
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I’m waiting for that final moment
You’ll say the words that I can’t say
*unbelievable; we never change and this will have been in vain. “tell me just how should I feel”*
Filed under: lies
sa nu fie o reeditare a post-high school time..
it would really be dreadful! and make me lose my hopes :-<
so, let’s GRADUATE!!!!
