'I like you a lot
Putting on my music just for watching the boys
so I do what you want....'

Pentru un timp vreau sa ignor evidentul, iminentul . Pentru ca tot romanu  stie ca ceea ce e si daca nu e nu e.
' Asta are trebui sa-ti spuna tie ca nu esti cu persona care trebuie'. Nu i-am raspuns, priveam in gol, oftand, mutand usor capul ca sa-i dau impresia can daca nu sunt de acord, cel putin ma gandesc serios la ceea ce a zis. Luke evident nu e roman si cum nu e roman e foarte greu sa inteleaga ceea ce tot romanul stie, ca nu se da vrabia din mana pe cioara de pe gard. Mai ales cand cioara are doi copii si o nevasta.
'Ati fact ceva?'
Adica? Adica faptul ca nu m-am opri din a ma Gandi la el time de 3 zile nu e nimic?! Faptul ca-i simteam respiratia pe gat atat de aproape era fata lui de a mea! Faptul can nu ma puteam uita in ochii lui cand vorbeam de frica sa nu pierd firu?! Asta nu inseamna nimic?! Faptul ca ma atingea atat de usor si subtil incat ma gandeam ca totu set intampla in mintea mea?!
'Nu. Normal ca nu!'
'Atunci fa si tu dupa ureche!'
Imi place expresia asta. Mai ales ca apoape o poti traduce in ambele limbi pe care le vorbeste minte mea. Am tacut iar, uitandu-ma in gol, oftand, mutand usor capul ca sa-i dau impresia can daca nu sunt de acord, cel putin ma gandesc serios la ceea ce a zis.

nu eram obosita. eram in schimb, extrem de nelinistata. englezii au cuvant genial pentru asta - restless.

aveam nevoie de o tigara. aveam nevoie sa vorbesc cu Gogu:
'trebuie sa-ti cer ceva! am incredere ca stii ce vreau!'

Ca de obicei nici-un raspuns. Nu a fost niciodata in firea lu' Gogu sa vorbeasca prea mult. E genul de zeu care lasa faptele sa vorbeasca de la sine. Dar in seara asta aveam nevoie sa stiu ca Gogu m-a auzit.
'n-o sa plang! nu am de ce sa plang!'

In apararea lui Gogu trebuie sa recunosc ca a avut mereu foarte multa rabdare cu firea mea capricioasa. Pot sa recunosc ca emotional am inca 15 ani. E foarte greu sa lucrezi cu o pustoaica de 15 ani pe care n-a iubit-o niciodata taticu. Dar Gogu a stiut mereu cum sa ma ia. In seara aia eram totusi mult prea nelinistita.

'nu am bocit in momente mult mai grele. nu am plans cand nu aveam unde dormii sau ce manca. nu am sa bocesc pentru asta!'
Adevarul e ca viata de imigrant te invata ca lumea nu se invarte in jurul tau si viata nu se termina cand un tip nu te place inapoi. viata de adult te invata ca exista probleme si exista mofturi.

'N-ar fi trebuit sa te uspar cu asta, Gogule. Imi pare rau!'

Dar nu-mi parea. Vroiam sa ma auda si vroiam sa-mi dea.

'Un izvor de noroc care sa nu sece niciodata.'

Am incredere in Gogu. A stiut mereu cum sa ma ia.

-din cand in cand mai scriu. nu stiu de ce.
-de ce nu?
-n-am timp. n-are rost. nu mai pot scrie in stilu in care o faceam odata. n-am inspiratie. nu vin cuvintele. plus in doua limbi compelt diferite....e ciudat.
- ai scrie in engleza?
- da si nu....e complicat. oricat de fluent vorbesti o limba straina a scrie e o chestie de stil, de esenta, e o chestie cu care te nasti, ceva ce mostenensti. poti sa lucrezi spre a deveni mai bun, dar stilu nu se invata.
- asta e parerea ta.
- ....poate ca da.
- in fine. cum a fost vineri?
-a fost mult mai bine decat ma asteptam. a fost ciudat si-n acelati timp frumos.
-ciudat?
-stii ca lucrez in principiu numai cu barbati. in general e un sector compelt dominat de 'sexu puternic'. dar e ok, nu  m-a deranjat chestia asta niciodata, ba din contra m-am folosit intotdeauna de treaba asta spre beneficiul meu. dar nu stiu, cand aduni 300 de oamnei impreuna reazizezi cam ce insemana sa fi o femeie in industrie. dupa ce-am laut trenul spre bristol, ne-am oprit sa bem ceva inainte de ceremonie. singura femeie printre vreo 50 de barbati. crede-ma nu e deloc atractiv.... nici macar nu m-au servit la bar.
- haha. hai lasa-ma.
- pe bune! aveam un decolteu cam cat pot sani mei sa duca de adanc. singura femeie intre 20 de barbati toti stand la coada la bar si absolut nimic. a trebuit sa astept sa-mi vina randu si inca ceva.
- unde-a fosr asta?
- ne-am oprit initial in afara garii centrale, dar ceremonia a fost la cabot. bineinteles ca ian a trebuit sa comenteze cand am sugerat sa luam scurtatura, peste avon bridge. dar a fost hilar. 'celalata' ana purta tocuri biata de ea! si toate stradutele laturalnice sunt pavate. plus ca a trebuit sa trecem prin subpasaj. a fost amuzant.
-tu si ian inca maisunteti apropiati?
-...mai e ciudat. avem momente  bune si avem momente proaste. cred ca e a devenit din ce in ce mai greu pentru el sa faca distinctia intre cand imi e prieten si cand imi e sef. nu sunt tampita! stiu si eu ca avem o relatie complet disfunctioanala si nesanatoasa, dar am zis ca atata timp cat voi avea de castigat din chestia asta n-are rost sa incerc sa schimb ceva. acum....nu stiu daca punand in balanta ceea ce pierd si ceea ce castig se mai meria.

home sweet home...

been a long time....

Sophia was there in the corner of the room looking calm and composed as ever. It was not in her nature to worry even when worry was due.

Veronica was in charge again. Nothing she could say or do could stop Veronica anymore. The world had many things to offer yet again and she wanted them all. She wanted to be at the centre of all.

The wild wind blew through the windows smell of cold summer rain.

For now this was home.

Ana was somewhere far away, not to be seen or found.  she lost the will to fight for control.

No one believed they would ever see Margaret again.

park that car
drop that phone
sleep on the floor
dream about me
...

Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I got nothing but my aching soul?

Si ma trezesc iar plangand dracu stie pentru cine si dumnezeu stie pentru ce. Lucruri pe care nu le-am avut, lucruri de care nu stiu, idealuri pe care le-am dat dracu si inspiratia marilor poeti ai lumii.
Si plang ca-mi pare rau de vorbe pe care le-am zis, de vorbe pe care nu le-am zis. Imi pare rau ca n-am injurat mai mult, imi pare rau ca n-am scuipat seminte in capu mai multor oameni,imi pare rau ca nu m-am luat cu unu si cu altu, nu m-am exprimat ca o mahalagioaca suficient de mult sau suficient de clar si-mi pare rau ca-m zis mereu 'buna ziua' cand trebuia sa fi zis 'du-te dracu'. Dar nu stiu neaparat daca de-asta plang.
Sunt circumstante in care ar plange oricine si circumstante in care ar plange numa prostii. Si cine se crede suficient de destept incat sa le deobeseasca e un dobitoc. Caci oamenii plang cand ii doare fie ei de pe oriunde din marea gradina a domnului.
Si oamenii ca mine mai si mananaca cacat. Vorbesc ca sa nu taca, ineptii si nonsens. Vorbesc ca sa nu planga.

Si-mi aduc aminte vag de vremuri mai calde cand soarele statea pe cer ceva mai multa vreme. Plangeam si-atunci la fel cum plang si acum, dracu stie pentru cine si dumnezeu stie pentru ce.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFasFq4GJYM&list=FLWU6TfiH9jr_w3OlcZRlOFg

only hate the road when you're missing home

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast

You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies

But you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go

Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
'Cause you loved her too much
And you dived too deep

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh)
And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh)
Well you let her go

'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go

'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go

Old pirates, yes, they rob I;
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
This songs of freedom
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfill the book.

Won't you help to sing
This songs of freedom-
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our mind.
 Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Yes, some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfill the book.
Won't you have to sing
This songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever had:
Redemption songs -
All I ever had:
Redemption songs:
These songs of freedom,
Songs of freedom.

The sound of home

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ER5EnjskCvE

Apparently I can write. I've been so busy being depressed and moaning about about my life that I forgot all about it, or better put, I forgot I can do it here. Since the dawn of its existence, my blog has always been my moaning sanctuary just as much as it has been my spotlight. Here I tend to use bigger words and sound far more cultured and pretentious than I do in real life. I often wondered why that is, but that's a different story which shall maybe tell another time.
I forgot about about my blog or better yet, I've been ignoring it for lack of having something to say. But today I remembered I never had anything to say and yet that never stopped me before.

So here I am again saying nothing! I've thought about my life many times and concluded it would make a pathetic, overly dramatic and meaningless novel. It would make a fucking great novel! People would love to read it! ....I've also remembered that for some silly reason I tend to curse a lot less if not at all on my blog. Why is that I wonder?
Anyway coming back to the kind of novel my life would make. I thought about beginning to write it many times, yet something stopped me. Maybe the fact that I never finish a single thing I start, maybe the fact that I get bored and give up quite quickly, that I never sacrificed a single thing to achieve a goal,  maybe the fact that it would be- as it always has been- the only thing I could ever write or maybe the fear that people would know it. They would be able to read it all, see it all, judge it all, every little aspect of my life, my every move, my every decision, my every mistake and more importantly the way in which I never really assumed responsibility for anything.  blamed of thanked a god for my lie, my present, my future and my past ever since I know myself. I've never been responsible for anything. I am both actor and spectator in my life. I say and do what the script says. I observe and criticise and enjoy the acting form the perspective of a viewer, but I would never accept, not even for a second, that I am the one who also writes the play.

I threw away my course work so I forgot the name of the genius analytic film theorist that claimed that as spectators, we are all men. Though many have argued against this female genius' claims, I find her theory to be very true. At least in my case!

PS: Laura Mulvey! Yes! That's her name! Brilliant woman, not very fun and with an unnecessarily complicated academic writing style, but nonetheless, brilliant.

-Un tip cu un ordin de restrictie,un receptioner glorificat,un drogat care vrea sa faca medicina, un regizor ratat care e deasemenea drogat si un virgin.
-Suna ca un banc nu foarte bun. Si? Cum e sa 'lucrezi' cu ei?
-Dau telefoane Ver, nu ma prostituez....Inca...
-Imi pare rau.N-am vurut sa ...grabesc lucrurile. Cum e sa dai telefoane cu ei?

I went down among the dust and pollen
To the old stone fountain in the morning after dawn
Underneath were all these pennies fallen from the hands of children
They were there and then they were gone

And I wonder what became of them
What became of them

Sunlight over me no matter what I do
Apples in the Summer are golden sweet
Everyday a passing complete

I'm not one to ever pray for mercy
Or to wish on pennies in the fountain or the shrine
But that day you know I left my money
And I thought of you only
All that copper glowing fine

And I wonder what become of you
What became of you

Sunlight over me no matter what I do
Apples in the summer are golden sweet
Everyday a passing complete
Apples in the summer are golden sweet
Everyday a passing complete

In the morning waking up to terrible sunlight
All diffuse like skin abuse the sun is half it's size
When you talk you hardly even look in my eye
In the morning, in the morning

In the doorway holding every letter that I wrote
In the driveway pulling away putting on your coat
In the ocean washing off my name from your throat
In the morning, in the morning

In the ocean washing off my name from your throat
In the morning, in the morning

Green apples hang from my tree
They belong only to me
Green apples hang from my green apple tree
They belong only to, only to me

And if I just stay awhile here staring at the sea
And the waves break ever closer, ever near to me
I will lay down in the sand and let the ocean lead
Carry me to innisfree like pollen on the breeze

They took away my name and they never gave it back...
It was never their's to take, still they never gave it back....
So I made a new name, a simple name made from scratch and hopes and dreams..
And they want to take this one away too, but I won't let them...

what the mood requires

Elope with me Miss Private and we'll sail around the world
I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?
How many nights of limping round on pagan holidays?
Oh elope with me in private and we'll set something ablaze
A trail for the devil to erase

San Francisco's calling us, the Giants and Mets will play
Piazza, New York catcher, are you straight or are you gay?
We hung about the stadium, we've got no place to stay
We hung about the tenderloin and tenderly you tell
About the saddest ending of a book you ever had to read
The statue's crying too and well he may

I love you I've a drowning grip on your adoring face
I love you my responsibility has found a place
Beside you and strong warnings in the guise of gentle words
Come wave upon me from the wider family net absurd
"You'll take care of her, I know it, you will do a better job"
Maybe, but not what she deserves

Elope with me Miss Private and we'll drink ourselves awake
We'll taste the coffee houses and award certificates
A privy seal to keep the feel of 1960 style
We'll comment on the decor and we'll help the passer by
And at dusk when work is over we'll continue the debate
In a borrowed bedroom virginal and spare

The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day
The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays
He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor
He knows the drink affects his speed he's praying for
a doorway
Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench
Life outside the diamond is a wrench

I wish that you were here with me to pass the dull weekend
I know it wouldn't come to love, my heroine pretend
A lady stepping from the songs we love until this day
You'd settle for an epitaph like "Walk Away, Renee"
The sun upon the roof in winter will draw you out like
a flower
Meet you at the statue in an hour
Meet you at the statue in an hour

• 
  

• 
  
  
  
  

si-atunci mi-as fi dorit sa fiu oricine altcineva....doar nu eu

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

But I don't, I don't know what that will be
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

What's my name, what's my station, oh, just tell me what I should do
I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you
Or bow down and be grateful and say "sure, take all that you see"
To the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me

And I don't, I don't know who to believe
I'll get back to you someday soon you will see

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see
Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak
Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself
What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?

And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf
I'll come back to you someday soon myself

kiss me hard before you go...summertime sadness...

And I looked up to the sky once more praying it would save me. I was alone again, speaking to my own God, telling him his baby girl is sad, her little heart broken,,,asking him to mend it again. And then I knew, it was all child's play, and promises in vain, words thrown without meaning or purpose, I was alone. God, I was alone! And the illusion ended..and it became clear...and I could see again...I was always alone.

Baby you need to leave and I know you know that why you keep ignoring me because if you don't gonna run me down let myself go...

I'm a baaad woman

-What am I coming back to?!
-I don't know, Ana...
-...At leas I can get some cheap dental work done...
-...
-I'm not even joking, my teeth are so bad, I might die because of my cavities before lung cancer has a chance to get me.
-Well good thing you're coming back!
-.....Will you stay with me?
-I have mid terms.
-Big commitments!
-You should know. You still going to Uni?
-Surprisingly, yes.
-Hmmm...good for you. How does mediocrity feel?
-Would't know.
-Well...that makes two of us then....
-Anyway. How's the colonel?! Excited about his baby girl coming back?!
-Happy you're back so you can vote.
-...I ain't even gonna ask.
-C'mon. That's the least you can do for dear old daddy.
-...I guess...
-So heard you got a man.
-Guess I did.
-Must feel good being looked after.
-Wouldn't know....
-Oh so he's not rich! Does he at least have a
-This may come as a surprise to you brother dearest, but no.
-....Ana, are you ok?!...
-I'll let you know first thing.
-Maybe we can do a checkup when you get here. Gotta go, but I'll be picking you up from the airport so see you in a few days.
-See you in a few days.
-Oh and Ana...
-Yes?
-Bring us some rolling tobacco will you?!
-...Ok.

-Where am I supposed to start looking for it?
-Don't worry about that. You don't need to look for it.
-You mean it will find me?!
-Yes.
-and how will I know that it's it?!
-You just will.