Fatidicul 17 ianuarie

What dreams may come

Gata.

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Gata virgula gata virgula gata punct virgula
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sublima sublimare...

I don't expect anything

...

Interogatii introspecte.

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.

Mainile sus, trage curentul!

Intre cine si cand
Intre tine si vant
A intrat un cuvant

Sub ganduri de bine
Sub valuri meschine
Te-am ascuns de mine

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What kills you, makes you weaker

That day, That day
What a mess what a marvel
I walked into that cloud again
And I lost myself
And I'm sad, sad, sad
Small, alone, scared
Craving purity
A fragile mind and a gentle spirit

That day, That day,
What a marvelous mess
This is all that I can do
I'm done to be me
Sad, scared, small, alone, beautiful
It's supposed to be like this
I accept everything
It's supposed to be like this

That day, That day
I lay down beside myself
In this feeling of pain, sadness
Scared, small, climbing, crawling
Towards the light
And it's all that I see and
I'm tired and I'm right
And I'm wrong
And it's beautiful

That day, That day
What a mess, what a marvel
We're all the same
But no one thinks so
And it's okay
And I'm small and I'm divine
And it's beautiful
And it's coming
And it's already here
And it's absolutely perfect

That day, That day
When everything was a mess
And everything was in place
And there's too much hurt
Sad, small, scared, alone
And everyone's a cynic
And it's hard and it's sweet
But it's supposed to be like this

That day, That day
When I sat in the sun
And I thought and I cried
Cause I'm sad, scared, small
Alone, strong
And I'm nothing and I'm true
Only a brave man can break through
And it's all okay
Yeah, it's okay

That day, That day
What a mess, what a marveleous mess
We're all the same
But no one thinks so
And it's okay
And I'm small and I'm divine
And it's beautiful
And it's coming
And it's already here
And it's absolutely perfect

So sweet, can you feel it? (Can you feel it?)
Are you here?
Are you with me?
I can feel it
And its beautiful

That day, That day
That day, absolutely perfect

Natalie Imbruglia - That Day
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Mad world

Umilinta si alti demoni

Tarand capul in noroi.
De un picior descult te trag mainile cu degete groase peste bolovani si balti. Unde e demnitatea sufletului de femeie? Unde e siragul de perle si pudra parfumata din alte vremuri?
Cand ai crezut ca ma scapi ai strans mai tare de picior si m-ai tarat prin ciulini.

Asteptand divinitatea intr-o groapa de balegar.

...

Titlu

E gol.
De acolo de unde izvorau cuvintele din taste parca nu mai curge nimic. Nu stiu cand a secat totul. Si nici de ce.
Au trecut pe langa mine clipe. Iar eu am trecut prin ele. Si n-a curs nimic. Nici un strop de cerneala nu a mai vrut sa mazgaleasca hartia. A fost mai mult anul trairii decat anul marturisirii. Mi-e mila de timpul nepunctat. L-am lasat prada unei memorii subiective si inselatoare.
E amuzant privind in urma scrijelitul de ganduri si idei. E caraghios. Nimic nu mai merita scris. E altcineva aici. E blogul altcuiva. Sunt altcineva.
E pur si simplu gol.

Return

Just because I'm losing
Doesn't mean I'm lost
Doesn't mean I'll stop
Doesn't mean I'm across

Just because I'm hurting
Doesn't mean I'm hurt
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve
No better and no worse

I just got lost
Every river that I've tried to cross
And every door I ever tried was locked
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...

You might be a big fish
In a little pond
Doesn't mean you've won
'Cause along may come
A bigger one

And you'll be lost
Every river that you try to cross
Every gun you ever held went off
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the firing stops
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...

Back

place for self

Schloss Freudenberg – unfurling the mind and senses

Pass more often
through woods
than through books,
trees and stones
teach you what masters cannot.

-Bernard von Clairvaix,1090-1153

The path to Schloss Freudenberg is unexpectedly modest; patchy asphalt is bordered by wooden stakes and exposed wiring. Narrow wooden plank stairs rest on what were once steps, stretching almost across the entire width of the building, but are now covered with tar sheeting. Uneven parquet floors creak underfoot.Unknowingly, visitors have already begun their journey through Schloss Freudenberg's "Field of Experience towards the Unfurling of the Senses and Thoughts". Here you can explore "how the eye sees, the ear hears, the nose smells, the skin senses, the fingers touch, the feet (under)stand, the hands (be)hold, the brain thinks, the lungs breathe, the blood pulsates, [and] the body vibrates".
Huge black and white and colorful discs rotate on the walls, creating dynamic images; a maze in the complete darkness rises and falls; steel bells are suspended from a ceiling, their clappers almost reaching the floor; metal plates on thin stems emerging out of a sand floor can be played with cello bows, creating music and tone paintings. Outdoors on the 16 hectare grounds, an Aeolian harp (named after the Greek god of wind, these harps are 'played' by the wind) graces a hillside next to a stone labyrinth; a barefoot-path made of smooth pebbles, bricks, stones, wood, and other materials snakes through a section of forest past a humming hole; the playground is flanked by mounds of carefully assembled logs and ropes; there are stilts, balancing discs, and a giant set of duet swings.
Schloss Freudenberg's cafe offers a range of refreshments and desserts made at Mechtildehausen's bakery, a local organic and communal farm. Perhaps the most unusual eating experience, however, is at 'The Dark Bar' (Der Dunkelbar). Through heavy black floor-to-ceiling curtains, visitors enter complete darkness. Friendly bartenders put nervous customers at ease by asking them to follow the sounds of their voices, left, right, feel for the barstools. Orders are filled and customers reach hands out towards glasses or plates that are gently tapped on the counter. Food and drink is savored while bodies finally begin to relax after repeatedly straining to see. Ears perk up to identify the multitude of sounds, clinking forks, giggling, footsteps, and throats cleared, which would normally be perceived as white noise. In recent years, Schloss Freudenberg's success has inspired others to create Dark Bars in Berlin, Koeln, Hamburg, Nürnberg, and Zurich.

pe scari, pas cu pas

Diferit nu inseamana mai bine, neobisnuit nu inseamna mai rau. Este doar o bucata de viata neexplorata si neexploatata. Boom-ul informational e lipit cu nitroglicerina. Creierul sta sa explodeze.

the night before the dawn...

Proiectii...

Hello
Can you hear me?
Am I gettin' through to you?
Hello
Is it late there?
There's a laughter on the line
Are you sure you're there alone?
Cause I'm
Tryin' to explain
Somethin's wrong
Ya just don't sound the same
Why don't you
Go outside
Kiss the rain
Whenever you need me
Kiss the rain
Whenever I'm gone, too long.
If your lips
Feel lonely and thirsty
Kiss the rain
And wait for the dawn.
Keep in mind
We're under the same sky
And the nights
As empty for me, as for you
If ya feel
You can't wait till morinin'
Kiss the rain
Hello
Do you miss me?
I hear you say you do
But not the way I'm missin' you
What's new?
How's the weather?
Is it stormy where you are?
Cause I'm so close but it feels like you're so far
Oh would it mean anything
If you knew
What I'm left imagining
In my mind
Would you go
Kiss the rain
And you'd fall over me
Think of me
Only me
Kiss the rain
Whenever I'm gone too long
If your lips
Feel lonely and thirsty
Kiss the rain
and wait for the dawn
Keep in mind
We're under the same skies
And the nights
As empty for me, as for you
If you feel
You can't wait till morning
Kiss the rain
Oooooohhhhh
Kiss the rain
Oooooohhhhh
Kiss the rain
Hello
Can ya hear me?

levitare in evitare

perpetuum mobile...

Cu secundele curgand in jos pe geam, una dupa cealalta, urmarindu-se si unindu-se alert, ea calca pedala acceleratiei mai tare. E ciudat sa fugi exact inspre partea opusa vocii din suflet. Oricum doare. Oriunde. Bratele sunt goale si atarna vinovate, buza de jos tremura rasfranta si singura, ochii privesc in gol..fara ecoul celorlalti.
Si secundele incep sa curga mai lent, intr-o pelicula cu scene in relanti. Apasator si lenes rasare soarele degeaba, departe...

So self aware, so...

White picket fence

A fost odata un timp: dupa ce procesul de demolare a copilariei avusese loc, cand toate se demitizau treptat si samburele de luciditate (deci drama) se sadise deja... a fost un timp in care mintea mea, bombardata de revelatii despre lume si sine, a crezut ca se pot totusi depasi conditia, destinul si limitarile de specie si sex. Credeam ca din inaltul mormanului de informatie care crestea sub mine ametitor de repede o sa pot privi in jos catre cele lumesti fara sa trebuiasca sa ma balacesc in baltoaca de nevoi, dorinte sau vise asa de mici, simple si omenesti. Ma gandeam ca daca pot constientiza hilaritatea luptei cotidiene pentru lucruri asa de meschine in materialismul lor, o sa pot sa lupt si eu contra curentului pentru 'lucruri inaltatoare care conteaza cu adevarat'. Daca realizam ca dintr-o impletire de feromoni, circumstante, putin Freud si multa indoctrinare sociala se naste 'iubirea', ma gandeam ca nu mai pot sa cred in povestile cu feti-frumosi. Incercam sa privesc cinic si realist, chiar daca stiam ca femeile filtreaza totul printr-o sita emotionala. Speram ca daca stiu asta o sa pot da jos filtrul, pacalind femininul din mine. Incercam sa inlatur orice urma de banalitate si cliseu.
M-am trezit insa dorindu-mi adanc si total tot ceea ce mi se parea mult prea depasit de logica, mult prea primar si comun. M-am regasit iubind fara ratiune, doborata de emotii, pacalita de povesti cu ilene cosanzene. M-am surprins cu vise pe cat de banale, pe atat de frumoase: rochie alba, copii bucalati si barbat cu testosteron. Am realizat ca gresesc chiar daca stiu ce e gresit... Ca sunt totusi cat se poate de femeie, de instinctuala si de emotionala... Ca desi totul e haos, viata nu are sens si imi scrantesc gandurile in filozofii complicate, cel mai miraculos lucru ar fi sa poti creea la randul tau o noua viata plangareata si gangurinda.
Recunosc ca sunt ceea ce sunt. I'm lovin' it.

spatiul, viteza si timpul...

S-a intors cu fata spre cearsaf. Cu spatele la el, incerca sa-i ascunda nodul din gat, furtuna din ochi. Stia ca nu poate sa recunoasca nimic in fata lui. Suferinta inseamna slabiciune si nu isi mai permitea un punct ahilean in care sa o loveasca cu inconstienta unui copil care se joaca. Avea de ales: sa scuipe naduful care ii ardea tamplele ingandurate si pieptul impovarat, sau sa inghita tot. Nimic nu avea sa se schimbe daca isi exorciza iubirea. Nenorocita asta de iubire atat de intens mestesugita de-a lungul timpului incat sa incapa doar intr-o mangaiere, strivita si comprimata doar intr-o privire, mestecata doar intr-un sarut. Cartile erau decartate, mana era juacata, pariurile puse. Cartile pe fata nu aveau sa schimbe nimic. Si nimeni nu joaca la bluff in mize atat de mari. Pass. A sovait o clipa... si a ales sa construiasca mai bine o amintire din acel moment, sa nu-l strice, sa-l conserve frumos pentru timpuri de aduceri aminte:
-Ce ai?
-Nimic...mi s-a facut putin somn. Hai pana la geam sa-ti arat un apus de soare superb! Sa vezi cum se vede marea aurie...
L-a luat de mana si si-au lipit trupurile goale in fata ferestrei, coplesiti de spectacolul grandios . L-a privit o clipa, i-a mangaiat usor gatul si si-a lipit buzele de ale lui...inghitind..in sec.

Poleiala si covrig fara gaura.

Din atata greata si delir nu mai ramane decat o senzatie de intromisiune erectila a gandurilor in umezeala aerului. Ma intreb daca e post-modernist sau post-decembrist acest patos generalizat pentru copulatia corporatista. Oricare ar fi raspunsul revelator, baza empirica a cercetarii ramane deliciul cercetatorilor travestiti in fashionable-ul imperativ al cotidianului. Batranicile isi sterg cu coltul maramei lacrima nostalgiei si mixeaza o romantza pe ritmuri antihipertensive cu bas. Vecinului ii e dor de lapte gros si sotron. Bea bere la kilogram butonandu-si flat-screenul. Isi mai priveste, din cand in cand, copilul facut din greseala la o taiere de motz, cand a fost ademenit cu guma turbo de fata primarului. Cine mai crede in teoria formelor fara fond sa scoata o mana scarpinatoare din fund si sa arate cu degetul catre vest!
te rog Mtv rebranduieste-mi glia!