A Chat With A Friend

Vorbeam cu Dhilorz, chitaristul de la formatia Ancient, care mi-e bun prieten, si a aparut o faza amuzanta, cand discutam despre faptul ca el a trecut prin Buciuresti acu vreo 2 zile si n-a m apucat sa ne vedem:

Dead: was there any weird actions in the airport?
Dead: now they will cancel all flights
Dead: because of this summit
Dhilorz Ancient : no, everything was fine
Dhilorz Ancient: just lots of traffic
Dead: then it's good
Dead: today was mayhem - REHEARSAL
Dhilorz Ancient: mayhem?
Dead: mayhem as in carnage, insanity
Dead: not the band
Dead: sounded as a concert
Dhilorz Ancient: yeah
Dhilorz Ancient: exactly
Dhilorz Ancient: LOL

Si da, ba, ma dau mare ca-l cunosc, asa, si? Nu sunt blecarita suparata, cu el vorbesc ca si cum ar fi un prieten si nu un star rock, ce, crezi ca nu exista si asa ceva? Ideea e ca voiam sa spun ca in ziua aia fusese repetitia pentru summit, si a iesit cu totul altceva. =]

Si acum, cuvintele...

E foarte interesant un paradox aparent ciudat al naturii umane... Cand te gandesti la cineva, te gandesti unde e, ce face, cu cine e, daca e bine, daca nu, etc etc. Uneori ai norocul [sa zicem] sa afli, si imaginea ti se schimba automat, ti-l imaginezi, ai macar niste repere care te ajuta sa-ti faci o idee. Poti sa afli si mai mult, stiu eu, sa-ti trimita poze exact din locul ala, facute cu cateva minute inainte sa iti spuna.

Dar atunci cand moare si e inmormantat, ai senzatia ca stii clar unde e persoana aia tot timpul. Treci pe langa mormant, chiar te duci special sa-l vezi si crezi ca acolo e. Esti atat de egoist incat crezi ca daca trupul lui e acolo, el a ramas acolo. Nu...ar fi ingrozitor. Cum a spus proful de religie in liceu, sa simti cum ti se descompune trupul...?

Nu e chiar asa. Acum nu mai stii unde e. Automat pentru un moment te gandesti ca, da, acum stii unde e mereu, dar de fapt acum...nu mai stii DELOC unde e. Nu te mai uiti la ceas si vezi ora si te gandesti "e ora 20:15, ce-o(r) fi facand el/ea/ei/ele acum...?" . Pentru ei nu mai exista timp sau n-a existat pentru noi niciodata...

Cum spun bunii mei prieteni de dat cu bascu' de pamant, Sopa de Cabra:
"No som diferents, només instants del temps"

Ciudat ca scriind, am dat din greseala la tags (related to ala) si voiam sa scriu un cuvant cu "d" in blog, probabil ca inceputul cu "dar atunci", iar tagul pe care il gandisem din start era "death" si mi-a aparut acolo.

Imi place sa cred/stiu ca aceia care-au murit ne vad cumva. Adica, de ce nu, pana la urma...


Plictis General

Bloguind am gasit asta in blogul [da mah e repetitie, si care-i problema?] Onishkai (merge sa pui link cu nume cu a href ca de obicei?) asta, asa ca m-am gandit s-o bag aici. Sa zicem ca iti va spune cate ceva despre mine, behehe. Ce e scris cu rosu e adevarat, iar in albastru vor fi observatiile.

1. Bought everyone in the pub a drink [sunt chitroasa]
2. Swam with wild dolphins
3. Climbed a mountain
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive. [nu inca]
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid
6. Held a tarantula.
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone.
8. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it [da, si imi amintesc foarte mult si ultima oara cand am spus-o si cui]
9. Hugged a tree.
10. Done a striptease.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise [oho si inca de cate ori...]
15. Seen the Northern Lights [daca mai mergeam vreo cativa km, reuseam...]
16. Gone to a huge sports.
17.Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables.
19.Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby’s diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne.
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment.
28. Had a food fight. [I also had an used condom fight, so...]
29. Bet on a winning horse.
30. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy. [I do roleplaying, go figure]
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip.
38. Taken an ice cold bath.
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse.
41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking.
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day.
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment. [pentru mai multe momente as putea adauga]
48. Had two hard drives for your computer.
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced.
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends.
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign.
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip.
59. Rock climbing.
60. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach.
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love.
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them.
66. Visited Japan.
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records.
70. Pretended to be a superhero.
71. Sung karaoke.
72. Lounged around in bed all day.
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving.
75. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain.
77. Played in the mud.
78. Played in the rain.
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret it.
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog.
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken.
86. Toured ancient sites.
87. Taken a martial arts class.
88. Sword fought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight [nu chiar DnD dar role playing]
90. Gotten engaged
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party.
93. Loved someone you shouldn’t have.
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten married.
96. Had sex at the office.
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch.
99. Won first prize in a costume contest [eram Highlander]
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice. [nu, dar am fost de 2 ori acolo. e prea scump, frate]
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on.
103. Gotten divorced
104. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
105. Got flowers for no reason.
106. Masturbated in a public place.
107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything. [cand ma imbat tin minte TOT]
108. Taken illegal drugs.
109. Performed on stage.
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark.
113. Had a one-night stand.
114.Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off. [uh?? mai bine era : NEVER shaved bla bla]
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone.
123. Bounced a check
124. Performed in Rocky Horror..
125. Read - and understood - your credit report.
126. Raised children.
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy.
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour.
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars.
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did [e in manualul de istorie]
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over.
134. …more than once?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking.
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did.
138. Had plastic surgery.
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived. [dar nu shouldn't, ci wouldn't have normally survived]
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone’s heart.
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job.
148. Won money on a T.V. game show.
149. Broken a bone.
150. Killed a human being.
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle.
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph.
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced.
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol. [da dar nu spun cand si unde ca e public]
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse.
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train.
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours.
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper.
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime. [da, dar au facut cancer si au murit]
173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about.
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions.
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name.
178. Petted a cockroach.
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes.
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read.
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. …and gotten 86′ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt.
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language.
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream.
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair.
197. Been a DJ
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199. Written your own role playing game [da, si il jucam de 2 ani aproape]
200. Been arrested. [nu te intereseaza]


Cultura Prefera Sa Moara II

...Am promis o continuare a articolului de mai sus. Insa nu mai am chef sa mai adaug chestii deja cunoscute, pentru ca ideea e dezbatuta si in clipa de fata, ras-dezbatuta. Vreau sa mai iau totusi de un tip uman de multe ori confundat cu intreaga "gloata" de "rockeri" chiar ok.

Este vorba despre profilul generalizat al roackerului betiv si care foloseste muzica asta drept pretext ca sa se poarte ca un maimutoi emancipat. A se preciza, el NU este deloc departe de urangutanul nostru deja cunoscut, in pantofi cu botul ascutit si pantalonii albi, transparenti si mulati ce-i arata opera de arta din pantaloni acoperita cu lenjerie "VERSSACE", "ADIDOS" sau altele.

Degeaba incearca el sa para geniul neinteles si pustiit al lumii moderne si de consum, ca nu sare departe de trunchiul gaunos al masei de mainstreamogloata. El e de obicei antisocial, in sensul ca singurele parti sociale din viata lui sunt legumele in bocanci care se inmoaie in fiecare zi in aceeasi alcoolemie si care-si adoarme zilele pe plaja, in jurul mucurilor de tigara si al gunoaielor. El iti va spune cu un patos desprins parca din piesele de teatru de la scara blocului ca "daca nu asculti airan meidan (e DOAR un exemplu), nu stii ce-i aia rock, ba", ca placerea si rostul sau in viata sunt sa isi testeze fiolele din venele lui deja pline de alcool pana la cota (cica) maxima, ca daca pleci la Vama Veche cu mai mult de 5 RON esti deja bogatas etc etc.

1. Nu am boala pe Vama Veche, ci pe populatia asta de teribilisti care se duce (populatia se duce, deci e la singular) acolo sa se imbete ca porcul si sa strige "moama ce ne-am distrat!".
2. Nimic.

Ah, aud acum o reporterita la tv care spune "pare nefiresc sa vorbesc despre George Pruteanu la trecut". Bine zis...

Revenind la OILE noastre, multi din amicii mei nu inteleg de ce nu ma perind si eu pe la Vama cu 5 RON dupa mine. Problema lor e ca nu sunt prosti, multi dintre ei au citit mai mult si stiu mult mai multe decat mine [poate da, poate nu], si nici nespalati nu sunt. Oamenilor ca ei incep sa ma gandesc ca poate chiar le place atmosfera aia. Dar grav e ca multi idioti cu pretentie de oameni culti si muzicali aleg genul asta de muzica, un gen care pretinde o polifonie mentala, o complexitate a gandirii, ca sa-l transforme intr-o "paranghelie" de betii, boraturi, urlaturi si jerpelituri.

Stateam de vorba mai ieri cu unu' care, pe langa alte chestii cu care (n-)am fost (deloc) de acord, ma intreaba de ce nu adopt un alt stil de IMBRACAMINTE, ca se intreaba daca rockerii intra intr-un magazin isi zic "ahh lantul asta cu ce pantaloni jerpeliti mi s-ar potrivi?", etc etc, ca geaca de piele nu-mi pune formele in evidenta, ca majoritatea roackerilor sunt betivi, incuiati si antisociali si striga sa fie observati, ca se dau mari culti si neintelesi, ca rockerii copiaza marile staruri rock.

Am argumente contra pe care, desi i le-am prezentat, nu cred ca au avut vreo valoare.

1. Nu adopt un alt stil de imbracaminte cum nici el/ea/ei/ele nu adopta alt stil de imbracaminte, pentru ca asa mi se pare mie ca imi sta cel mai bine, pentru ca imi plac hainele mai extravagante in anumite conditii, pentru ca nu sunt genul care va purta bocanci pe 40 de grade, vara, pentru ca ma plictiseste enorm stilul obisnuit de imbracaminte si pentru ca si parintii mei la randul lor adopta acelasi stil.

2. Argumentul ala cu lantul e mai mult decat cretin, multi dintre houserii vostri si alte stereotipuri cretine poarta lanturi si tot felul de brizbrizuri si nu inteleg de ce pe ei nu-i iei la socoteala, poate pentru ca au copiat multe din hainele noastre [ex: tenisii, blugii rupti, hainele de piele gen TOP GUN, ETC!!!]

3. Nu imi pun formele in evidenta oriunde pentru ca nu am chef ca toata lumea sa vada ce forme am eu, corpul meu e pentru cei ce merita sa-l vada, nu o sa-l etalez pe toate maghernitele bucurestiului ca sa fiu fluierata de urangutani si de baietzeii de cartier in calduri, vara stai tu calm ca n-am incotro si nu-mi port geaca de piele, ca nu-s chiar asa de tr00.

4. Da, multi dintre rockeri sunt betivi si asta am mentionat mai sus, nu am chef sa mai repet, teribilistii astia strica renumele unor rebeli care ascultau o muzica de calitate si care cunosteau/cunosc instrumentatie, armonie, etc, dar niciodata atat de cretini incat sa bea si sa n-aiba un rost in viata. Sunt incuiati pentru ca sunt by default inchisi la minte, nu pentru ca sunt rockeri, sa fim seriosi. Striga sa fie observati si urangutanii care ghioraie prin metrou si pe strada de zici ca s-a basit Pamantul, scuzati expresia. Pe mine ma enerveaza sa fiu observata pe strada, in tarile dezvoltate nu ma privea nimeni atat de urat si ce bine era acolo...

5. Da, se dau culti si neintelesi pentru ca o parte din ei chiar sunt mai culti decat o intreaga serie de universitate, asta pentru ca hobby-urile celor ok, cum am spus si mai sus, sunt creative si oamenii astia vor sa invete ceva in fiecare zi. Altii incearca sa para la fel, desi nu sunt, si sunt amuzanti de privit.

6. La partea cu rockerii "copiaza starurile rock", pai si pe cine vrei ma sa copieze? Pe Guta ala cu moaca aia de avorton scos din butoiul cu formol si presat pe gura de peretele sticlei vreo 20 de ani? Si daca vor sa fie ca altcineva, recunoasteti ca originalitatea s-a pierdut demult...

N-o sa citeasca nimeni asta, nu imi pasa in mod special, am spus ce-aveam pe suflet, de asta scriu aberatiile astea, cert e u n singur lucru: fiecare padure isi are uscaciunile ei, iar daca pretinzi ca esti deschis la minte si ai prejudecati atat de stupide, mai gandeste-te. Daca poti, ha ha ha.

Promit ca intr-o zi o sa scriu si despre ce-mi place. Dar imi place sa ma iau de toate, e o tara democrata, pana la urma.



Cultura Prefera Sa Moara

Am sa scriu asta in romana mai ales pentru ca este vorba despre un lingvist roman. George Pruteanu. A murit. Acum vad zeci de emisiuni la tv in care lumea vorbeste despre el, despre arta lui, despre lupta lui cu prostia si incultura, dar putini inteleg ca nu numai EL a murit. El e unul din varfurile unei piramide mai ciudate, cu mai multe varfuri. Varfuri ale unei "piramide" de oameni care s-au luptat, se lupta si poate se vor lupta pentru ultimele valori adevarate ale lumii.

Daca vreti sa-i faceti un bine lui, si celorlalti [mda, "celorlaltor" nu e corect spus...] care nu mai sunt, si celor care mai au putina speranta intr-o lume adevarata, in loc sa tot vorbiti despre ce a facut si ce a spus, sa FACETI precum el, poate nu cu vehementa lui pentru ca nu multi dintre voi aveti atata putere. Ce noroc am eu ca persoanele apropiate de mine fac ceva, dar nu e destul.

Cultura moare si a murit si azi. Azi a murit mai dur, mai "pe fata", a mai dat un pumn masei de urangutani imbracati in ciubote, lasand un loc si mai mare puzderiei de maimute cu pretentii de oameni. Voi asta trebuie sa intelegeti. Nu a murit doar un om. Deja cultura se duce incet incet pe lumea cealalta, poate acolo e mai bine, poate din lasitate sau pur si simplu din lipsa de putere, infectia de aici e prea mare, prea multa, prea puternica...

N-am crezut ca-mi voi dori mai mult moartea cuiva, dar incepe sa ma obsedeze. O sa spuneti "te plangi dar nu faci nimic". Gresit. Fac ceva, dar n-ai cum sa observi la scara atat de mica.

Am sa continui asta maine.

Too Many

There is a band that my best friend is mad about that is called Disturbed. Well, they have this song which starts to inspire me more and more in my genocidal ideal life:

"There's too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And there's not much love to go around
Can't you see this is a land of confusion?"

...Sometimes you just sit and wonder if this is but an illusion or it is turning real. If you don't, it is a bit extreme, put it this way, if you don't sometimes feel like the crowd is overwhelming you, you're either antisocial or blind.

One day I decide to go have my lunch in a well known fast-food of my glorious city. I order my drinks, I try to find an empty table, it's full. The sounds of the tens of voices, screaming in the same time is becoming a terror. I sit at a table with some strangers, trying to dig myself in my mind and not care, but my head is exploding.

I enter the subway = the place where the subhumans and trolls dwell, seeming they transport their filths somewhere else, but often acting like they're in a bar. It is crowded, it smells like...BA NU MAI MANCATI PUFULETI IN AUTOBUZ/METROU/MASINA ETC, E DEZGUSTATOR, PUTE DE CA SI CUM NU V-ATI SPALAT PE PICIOARE DE O SAPTAMANA SI LE TINETI LA NASUL MEU! It's getting on my nerves, and I hell am not the only one who suggests that smelling food should be banned in public transport.

I want to go in the forest near my city and spend some quality time with my friends, it's overcrowded with retards putting subhuman music and dancing like monkeys who dress, throwing their damn garbage as if they really want us to know what is in their trashy mind, smelling again like damn food.

It is too much. Too many people being the same. Too many people being superficial, enriched, fashion slaves, breeding war. Warmongers!


Avem Mici Mari!

Expunere: A fost odata ca niciodata bla bla bla, un articol in Adevarul:

Desfasurarea actiunii: Ce se spune in articolul de fata... "La parter se află un café-bar de cartier în care poate intra oricine. În clubul "Pirat" însă e foarte greu de pătruns. Clădirea mohorâtă nu este pentru oricine.
Dinăuntru răzbat acordurile punk ale formaţiei Sex Pistols. Celebra "Anarchy in the UK" e un fel de imn al rebelilor. În cele două camere afumate ale barului se execută planificarea şi trasarea sarcinilor pentru "lupta revo­lu­ţionară". Priviri suspicioase sunt aruncate celor care îndrăznesc să intre acolo."

1. Cladirea normal ca nu e pentru oricine, ca daca acest oricine ar asculta punk sau rock, lumea ar fi mult mai fericita.

2. "Anarchy in the UK" e imnul rebelilor care se pretind rebeli, am si observat un comment mai jos care spune clar: "teribilism adolescentin". Nu am mari contacte cu scena punk in general, dar macar atat mai stiu si eu ca, vorba lui SLC PUNK!, e cam amuzant sa urli ANARCHY IN THE UK cand te afli intr-o alta tara. E cam principiul: "Let's pretend we're all Norwegian although we know no Norse". Macar ar putea sa strige "anarchy in Bucharest", atunci incepi sa iti faci probleme ca se planuieste ceva.

3. Am sa spun sigur ca aia care isi petrec timpul in "cele doua camere afumate" nu planuiesc toti sa rastoarne politica, si nici sa strice treaba. Poti sa planuiesti un mars de protest si de acasa, nu trebuie neaparat sa te plimbi prin baruri.

Punctul culminant: momentul cand o sa ma duc eu la baie si o sa ma defulez.

Deznodamant: In Romania pe langa sportul numit "hai sa ne facem o ocupatie din problemele altora", mai e si sportul "propaganda anti orice e peste media [minima?!] de inteligenta a urangutanului". Da, ma, aveti grija de conduita intalnirii de fata, aveti grija de anarhisti, dar nu mai faceti atata propaganda anti-punk/rock etc, pentru ca masele ne-au urat de cand lumea, asa ca n-o sa ne starpiti!



He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

--W.B. Yeats, 1888

Poezia asta-mi place de cand am vazut pentru prima oara filmul Equilibrium. Filmul trateaza ideea unei societati ideale in care orice forma de sentiment e pedepsita cu moartea, iar modul in care omul scapa de acest "rau necesar" e un medicament administrat la o ora fixa.

In societatea contemporana ar fi ideal sa existe un asemenea medicament, pentru ca oricum sentimentele de azi sunt majoritatea superficiale, induse si bazate pe grosimea portofelului [sau a altor parti ale "omului"]. Lumea nu mai e preocupata de romantism, de dragoste pura, de prietenii adevarate, ba chiar astea-s privite in batjocura, in principal din cauza invidiei.

Eu ma bucur ca am parte de o mentalitate total nepotrivita societatii moderne. Iar poezia de fata are exact ideea mea [si in general a persoanelor si grupurilor in care ma invart eu ca un titirez stricat ha ha ha] despre dragoste. Si nu vorbesc neaparat de dragostea senzuala, ci de orice tip de dragoste.

Iar pentru marea masa mirobolanta a societatii: inventati ma si voi Prozium [medicamentul care suprima sentimentele], ca n-aveti nevoie de ele. Un sfat prietenesc, si stiti de ce? Copiii ii faceti mecanic, sentimentul vostru dominant e invidia si ura, visele voastre sunt "sa am o slujba ca sa castig bani", nu ca sa o faceti cu placere si asa sa va castigati existenta, etâcâ. Chiar azi am auzit pe unul, cica: "Pai s-a facut doctor pentru bani, normal, nu?" E normal? Mai ales cand vorbesti despre un medic. Pai ma ţugulane, medic te faci ca sa salvezi vieti, ca daca vrei sa castigi O TONA DE bani in Romania nu-ti trebuie 10 ani de studiu, nici nu-ti trebuie liceu, fa-te manelist.

Aaaaa si asta se pune si ca leapsa pe care-am primit-o de la http://infern-psihic.blogspot.com/ si de la http://1000dedorinte.blogspot.com/ .

Eu Primar

Trebuie sa se faca alegeri pentru noul primar al Capitalei si va spun sincer: votati-ma pe mine! Daca voi fi eu primar, o sa ma indrept catre Presedintie si chiar daca-mi semnez internarea la Spitalul 9, macar am sa stiu ca a meritat! Am sa asfaltez strazile pe bune, adica n-am sa mai refac strazile deja asfaltate, ci am sa va fac strazi ca in Germania. Vorbesc serios, de cand eram mica si ma intrebau ce-as face in politica, spuneam ca vreau sa fac autostrazi si sa fie drumurile cum trebuie.

Apoi am sa modific Codul Rutier si am sa pun Politia sa ia carnetele TUTUROR celora care incalca legea, vor fi pedepse aspre pentru conducatorii astia needucati care isi masoara barbatia cu caii putere.

N-am sa interzic nimic, pentru ca a interzice ceva atrage dorinta mai mare de a se face acel lucru, desi din tot sufletul as interzice manelele, nu pot, dar pot macar sa incep reeducarea oamenilor, sa incerc sa creez programe prin care sa li se ridice putin nivelul mental, sa inteleaga tampenia pe care si-o injecteaza in creier.

Si daca nu merge, am sa le dau foc, probabil ca fumul va fi vazut de pe Luna.

Ce-ai citit acum a fost un acces de optimism. Noi degeaba vrem sa schimbam lumea daca nu ni se da ocazia. Iar cand ti se da puterea, incepe si dorinta de a avea cat mai mult si calcatul pe cadavre mai mult sau mai putin vii.

Acum vreo 9 ani:

-Ce vrei sa te faci cand vei fi mare?

Care-i problema? Dintotdeauna am dorit putere, dar cum spun eu mereu... "Don't give me power, for it is power which consumes me..."


Taxa pe prostie

In tarile cu pretentie de dezvoltare, precum si in societate in general, citatul "homo homini lupus" incepe sa capete o tenta de la propriu si nu numai de la figurat. Ma rog, acum nu vreau sa spun cum ca "lupus" ar trebui modificat cu "urangutanus", dar dupa cum bine stii, nu ma pot abtine. =]

Concluzia prozaica a studiul asupra involutiei rasei umane e ca, pe langa faptu' ca se mandreste in prostie cu evolutia ei presupusa, o mai si taxeaza. Adica, mai pe limbaj dur, pe cat esti de tampit, pe-atat esti platit mai mult. I-a ma s-a ince-p si eu sa scrie mai bine, ca poat-e ma platesc si astia pen-tr-u prostie! Multi dintre membrii de onoare ai junglei televiziunii [romanesti] iau in fiecare zi/luna/an salariul pe prostie. Pentru ca nu cred eu ca-i asa o mare coincidenta ca si Vanghelie, si Guta, si Andreea Banica, si MoniCA COlumbeanu, si toti astia isi iau banii pe un talent debordant. Si mai sunt si plini de bani.

Cum naiba se caca ei bani de pe-o zi pe alta fara sa faca nimic? Se spune ca e greu sa fii prost, eu zic ca-i cel mai usor pentru marea masa a societatii. E usor, nu trebuie sa gandesti deloc, ma rog nici nu poti dar deh, trebuie sa te comporti ca o maimuta in calduri si asa atragi multi de partea ta! Esti si votat! [insert idiotic face here]

Lumea se intreaba cum de sunt la putere si la TV atatea specimene...bai fratilor, VOI i-ati ales! Mai mult sau mai putin, dar voi i-ati ales! Cu siguranta ca nu EU i-am ales, ca daca era asa, era cu totul alta scena politica/de divertisment in patria noastra!

Si pe langa faptul ca stau ca legumele in galantar la capitolul miscatul sinapselor si al mutatul canalelor pe Discovery, ii mai si platiti! Cu cat esti mai dobitoc, cu atat esti platit mai bine. Iar noi, astia mai cu creier, ne tot incapatanam sa ne saracim, urlam din toti plamanii ca ne doare prostia astora, dar ne afundam din ce in ce mai mult in vise si produse ale GANDIRII, secati de bani si de putere, privind cu o stare de voma la papitoii manevrati cu prea multa batjocura de un Dumnezeu inventat.

Astia n-au Dumnezeu, ma. Ma amuza ca urla dupa mine "satanistooooo" cand ei vorbesc despre un Dumnezeu care probabil ca se intreaba cat o sa mai dureze parada asta de maimutoi. Prostia e la putere. Lipsa de talent e la putere. Ohhhh, primesc si bani pe asta... Pe cat sunt de bune masinile pe care le conduc, pe-atat sunt ei de avortati mental.

Eh, stiti voi, bogati aici, saraci pe lumea cealalta. Eu zic ca sunt saraci si aici, ca fara lucrurile alea, cine da doi bani pe ei? Masa, dar da-o dracu de masa. Masele au fost intotdeauna de cacat.



Dead: cand cu val's gay aveam de gand sa postez idurile
Dead: celor care-mi dadeau mass
flippy: da
Dead: dar cum nu am primit nici unul....
Dead: :
flippy: :)))
flippy: aa mi-am amintit o greseala gramaticala
flippy: you HAVE to hear this
flippy: zisa de o colega manelista de-a mea
flippy: avea intr-o zi la status: o iubesc pe prietena mea crisa, care n-o sa ne mai certam niciodata :)))
Dead: OMG
Dead: woah
Dead: nu credeam k s-a ajuns chiar asa de departe
flippy: :)))
flippy: oh ba da
Dead: ah stai
Dead: n-am vazut k ai scris k e manelista
Dead: deci
Dead: nu ma mir

[**] In caz ca nu stiti, eu sunt "Dead".

Ode To Independence

Exista o tehnica de neschimbat in arta disimularii. Poti sa disimulezi tot, pana la moarte...desi moartea nu disimuleaza. Poti disimula chiar si dementa, ura de neoprit, chiar si lipsa de inspiratie. Insa putem oare vorbi despre siguranta si independenta disimulata? Da. Insa SIMULAREA acesteia naste ridicolul de care [oare?] ne temem cu totii. Independenta doare cand e furata de cei ce n-o merita.

Look at regular human beings, for example [exemplul viu al neputintei]. You all know English, do you not? Most people know an usual and plain English, others can speak it better, using words that the first category considers them to be from "outer space" [citez "bah, tu chiar intelegi ce spui acolo?"], but it's this category that can actually say "Yes, ma'm, I can talk to a native speaker without feeling as a foreigner". Well, to be honest, it is an attempt to compare this with independence itself. WARNING: It is only an ATTEMPT that I try to put together at 12:00 am, so please don't push my head against the walls if it doesn't come out "comprehendible". Take a dose of Marijuana and quench it with alcohol. You feel independent now, don't you?

What I have noticed during my trips within the sky lights was that most people consider themselves "THEMSELVES", if you get the point, they consider they are unique, outstanding, monoliths and temples of an uniqueness that has reached beyond any person's sight. But what's hilarious is that most "independent" people stick to social values, even if they disagree with them. They act all the same, having the same problems, to be honest, it's like I'm walking next to a million people that look, act and talk the same [reference to an urban version of "Matrix" maybe?].

Another interesting subject in this total outspoken way of debating human norms is the lack of deepness. To this type of being, the word "deep" can either have sexual connotations, or in better cases, can be a connotation into poor Johnny Depp's name. By the way, to add on this, I am not unique, folks. I am one of the watchers, or however you'd like to call it, a "voyeur", an "obsessed", a "freak".

If you feel that you have to respect a certain "value" that you disagree with, don't call yourself independent. If you try to look as regular as the rest, judging those who have the "guts" to be different, then you're not independent. You're a slave.

What's personally intriguing is how you let it conquer you, like a damned plague. But what I like to repeat, as always, is my personal delight in watching these things from the outside, laughing to myself. If you open your eyes to see what surrounds you, you're ignorant. It's not what you see that should haunt you, but what you DON'T see at the first gaze...or even stare. What happens to the smoke after you exhale it, where do the clouds that filled you with rain go? Where does your spirit go when you're thoughtful...?

Coming back to where I started, about independence. How easy to understand is to morally explain your deeds? Like, for instance, when you do a favor to someone or when you take away something, in a totally unfair way. Why do you fall in love with the wrong person? If you fall in love for real, the person cannot be wrong. Love can never be wrong, no matter whom you love. If you like someone just for something earthly, then yes, maybe it is. No, most definitely it is. If it's earthly and you're smart enough, you'll notice it...feelings will change due to earthly situations. If it's not, then the existence of love does not depend on earthly possibilities and it lasts until the end of times.

Now let me talk about INDEPENDENCE. Since until now I seemed to explain some certain terms that will be used in the discussion. The comparison with English skills comes due to a critic view on human's ability to perish: independence and English are antagonistic. But here comes the pleasure. While one can improve English to the point of being able to speak like a native, if you're not born to be independent, it will be just a pointless attempt. The same goes with any sort of talent, it's true, you can be independent in blood without realizing it, as well as having a talent you haven't discovered. But it's THERE, behind your eyes and someone will notice it somehow.

Once you reach that point, where you feel it inside your veins, pulsing along with your heartbeats, there's no way someone can change it.

I didn't tell it to you, but I know you will never hear it from me. It was enough to see your eyes for the first time and feel the power flowing through your veins. Or at least I will not say it to you. I wouldn't like to feed your pride. It was hard to conceive such an objective topic with such hatred inside. If you read someone's words, or hear someone speak, you can already scent the spirit.

But the spirit you feel...does it suit you? Is it what you've dreamed of? Do you like rejecting yourself? It's too late now... There is a beautiful and literally charming magnificence in being able to be alone and desire yourself like that. Analyzing the wonders of what lonesome intelligence can provide you is totally alluring and yet frightening. The words empathetically vibrate with your own individual experience, the pleasure of misleading your own ideas into a subjective analyze gets to become an objective. Many of you forget that you communicate with the “outside” even when you are alone. You communicate when you simply stare at nothing, you communicate even when nobody sees you. The question regarding this matter would be: what does this have to do with independence itself? Well, you communicate it. You express it in various terms, feelings, experiences, but you never sit down and dissect it. The clear experience that has taught many philosophers to “dissect” it, is power. Take Friedrich Nietzsche, for example, who said clearly that independence is for strong people. In the complete use of terms, it is a quality that must be used wisely.

First of all…what makes you human? The ability to rationally think. That leads to the ability to lie. Lying leads to the ability to wear a mask of an indestructible innocence to hide a complete horror. You get born as an ignorant, guiltless, for your mind has not been fed yet, but you “wake up” dying as a pretender that cannot distinguish which mask is the real one anymore. You lie about your power, about your own spirit, to try to blend in with the society. But didn’t the society you praise so much entirely DELETE your own SELF? And if it did, do you feel an immense pleasure seeing this?

You do something and always comes the “but”. You must explain yourself for your deeds…but until WHEN? You reach your last moment of earthling existence and you still explain yourself and others. You talk about others who changed the entire course of things with their mind, but you like not being remarked. Why? Oh yes, you like, through low life ways. Well, the things stay like this: yes, you will impress. You will impress the others for a matter of a couple of minutes, or maybe hours and then…? Then you go to someone else, trying to impress again, through that way… The solution would be not to attempt to be as idiotic as possible…which scientifically sustains the closeness between humans and animals. Animals are independent, but they don’t realize it. You do. Why not making the best of it? Do not ask me, I have no idea how this works, I don’t know all of you… I don’t know how your mind works, although there are many things in common, in this matter.

In another way, people talk about self consciousness. Being a monkey will not make you more interesting. It will most definitely make you ridiculous…but remarked…for a short period of time, it’s true. Why do I imagine one SOLE scene…? There is indeed one single scene that keeps coming in my head. The thin line between love and hate is simply theoretical, practically fanatic love makes you hate and vice versa. One little wrong move can turn the extreme love into pure hatred. I can totally admit I have a sincere repulse towards the monkey acts, towards this teenager like behavior, considered to be mature. You can be even 30 and act like a retard, nevertheless trying to seem so mature minded. Prejudices turn you into a complete retard and even if they say that around 30 you reach full maturity, you can prove them wrong, in a very PROUD way.

One more thing… I despise little girls who turn all poetic about everything. In that ecstasy of a sweet devotement, they start blabbering about how life goes, how dark and philosophic everything is. What is funny is that all the things they write are the same. The subject seems cloned. The fantasies seem twin. The ideas seem over and over burnt with the same fire, their love seems rusted in the same box, with the same perfume, same sickening stench of rotten mind. The same illiterate dreams that feed the fashion nowadays, either depressed or over-happy, the mind revolves the same: towards the brink of uniqueness. Little girls who have a paraplegic orgasm [yes, I used a correct word] whenever the prince of their dreams looks at them or acts like in their chaotic poetry. Or, on the other hand, in their ordered mercantilism. [Note: no personal offence, I am talking about a stereotype and I am willing to meet any person fit in this category who can prove wrong.]

The saddest thing is to watch guiltless people paying for other’s mistakes. I mean, as I watch the surrounding world, I am beginning to realize day by day that people should use condoms more. Or, should USE condoms. A conclusion to this is that the increase of people is not always good. In my own perception, the world would be much better with only 20000 or 30000 real people rather than with millions of consumers of oxygen and resources. Yes, judge me, swear me and insult all I say, but I will stick to this opinion. With all the meanings to offend everyone fit in the “consumers” category, we don’t need machineries here. I remember once I was invited to sustain an essay in front of a sea of people and I noticed that a couple of them were laughing and not paying attention so I told them straightly that they should go on the street or anywhere else, because their intelligence proves its lowliness. And they felt very offended. A teacher of mine who was preaching about the same thing didn’t get any comment back, because she is a teacher. The students don’t have the “balls” to say it straight up to her. Although if I’d be a teacher, I’d ask them to tell me what they think.

Well, with all due respect, people with no intelligence, but not because of a disease, but because of laziness, those people should be shot. True value and power is not sustained by monkey acting and sexual jokes, or laughing whenever you hear something regarding sex. Little kids and deprived people do it, do you really like “broadcasting” your sex life like that?

Wearing fashion clothes and changing a pair of jeans that one month ago were “en vogue” just because now they’re “old fashion” will not make you independent. Listening to an illiterate music spoken by those who think Rembrandt is a football player will not make you independent. Running away from home because your parents didn’t let you go to a stupid show will not make you independent.

And note to all: I am not misanthropic. Some people I have met truly fascinated me. They became a reason for my existence, studying them and listening to them has become a mantra. They represent that small amount of characters that live for more than basic needs. Wherever they are and whatever they do, they can make the best out of it. You can see the sparkle in their eyes, they are amongst you. You just push them away with your daily routine. It is all right, because they can always give you another chance. They will rarely pull you through…but they will always suffer in this abyssal ignorance.

And let me tell you something, you little hypocrites. They REALLY suffer. They have deep sufferings, torments, turmoil, not like you pathetic ones have. They suffer because they create something that you happily blaspheme. It’s interesting how they get blasphemed here while you will get blasphemed in the everlasting life [that, if you are aware of it].

Although I have such an orgasmic verve, I must admit that I don’t like to generalize. There are people who apparently fit in that category, but who can think straight. Of course, as well as poets or artists who, in real life, are social retards. But how can you say you lived if there is never a remembrance of a moment when you created something? That moment when you intersect with your inner self and when you can discover such grandeur. That moment that cannot be attained somehow else and with nobody. That moment when you feel godlike, when you regard your creation and feel the spirit pulsing within. And that turns even better when the vibrations of your flawed spirit can knit with the others’ spirits and create an even bigger bliss. That creative bliss turns so carnal sometimes, the pleasure turns so earthly and comprising your entire being, like a vertigo, it conquers your innocence, the power of the colors or words, or shapes and sounds, all mended with emotions and unsatisfied desires brings you to an elating state. Two poets discussing about another man’s poem, a painter adding a color on an already painted canvas, adding more sentiments, that is true value. The honor that glistens in their vampire-like desire is incomparable. The honor of being the artisans of this crumbled world, putting each of its pieces back together…

And the wide open armed [yes, ARMED] sadness that comprises their disobeying souls as they learn that they are not physically immortal. That without their hands they cannot create anymore, that dreams cannot be kept in the memory and they know they have to die now. The most human thing possible is to deify someone as he’s dead. It's hard to express gratitude when someone’s standing right in front of you, eh?

Yes, for a big amount of you, this is an insult and you will speak it out, because you cannot shut up. But the question on everyone’s lips, which lingers like an unwashed wound, is: do I care?


Teh Chozenz

Ce se poate intampla intr-o buna zi cand vrei sa-ti aprinzi o tigara la vreo 15 minute de casa si n-ai bricheta? Intorci capul si-l vezi pe Tariceanu cu bicicleta. Eram la iesirea de la Aviatorilor, cea de langa cacaturile alea ce se pretind sky scrapers, tocmai intoarsa de la o sedinta de condus asiduu prin traficul de basm al Ca-ca-pitalei, cand ma decid sa fac ceva ce nu fac decat poate o data la 948538678376 ore. Explicand mai pe intelesul tau, a fuma o tigara la iesirea din metrou e un gest de automutilare mentala, in conditiile in care inca mai am pretiosul meu bullshit protector si cheful mirobolant de a fi apostrofata de maimutele cu aere de oameni emancipati.

Asa...si cum spuneam, am cerut un foc si cand dau sa intorc capul, Tariceanu trecea vesel cu bicicleta pe langa mine, iar in spatele lui era un tip in costum, tot cu bicicleta... Lyk, damnz0r, dudez, uat iz gauing an tudei? Ce-mi place mie la omul asta e nonsalanta si spiritul lui liber, da frate, ii plac motocicletele, care-i problema voastra? Va ofticati?

DAR... A fi "ales" in mod normal presupune un cod al eticii. In cacatul asta de oras, unde strazile sunt asfaltate si re-asfaltate, sparte si re-sparte si re-re-resparte, traficul e infernal, conducatorii si mai si, se pare ca nimic nu mai conteaza. Sunt de acord cu hobby-ul, dar exista timp liber pentru asta. Iar in politica, in conditia in care sunteti pusi acolo ca sa conduceti tara, timpul liber ar trebui sa fie pe ultimul loc, mai ales in Romania.

Si asta m-a dus cu gandul la viteza cu care se indreapta hologramatica noastra tara in adevarata lume civilizata. O lume ca o autostrada de prin Germania, in care totul se intampla la o viteza mare, la obiect si educat, o comparatie reala cu conducatorii auto de acolo. Romania se indreapta catre lumea aia cu viteza unei biciclete...triciclete...carute...

Ca de or veni nemtii sa ne intrebe: "Baaa oameni buni, de ce lasati pe toti sa va depaseasca si mai rau, de ce nu va luati masina, ca pe autostrada n-ai voie cu bicicleta?" Pai pentru ca:

1. Mentalitatea romaneasca nu are posibilitatea de a avea un motor, pentru ca inca mai este la stadiul de caruta [vezi carutele din Buciuresti].

2. Mai degraba isi iau un Mercedes, isi pun capetele lor pline de gel sau pletele date cu sclipici in ele si pantofii ciocati si desi din afara ei tot in caruta stau, au impresia ca merg cu "masina".

3. Cand va veni o voce apocaliptica sa ne intrebe cand ajungem si noi macar la prima iesire a autostrazii, vom raspunde MANDRI: pai dom'le, cu bicicleta asta cam in vreo 50 de ani, dar mai bine tarziu decat niciodata.


Cafeaua cu Soare

"Damn, esti criminala... [...] Ma omoara gustul tau si atingerea". Era intr-o zi pe care o reneg, intr-un loc pe care cu drag l-am daramat, cu un soare dureros de fierbinte pe care l-am stins cu o dorinta imperioasa de raceala. Calatoria cu metroul se dovedise a fi mai infumurata decat insasi dorinta de cunoastere, incercarile repetate de a citi si de a asculta muzica in acelasi timp au fost biruite inca o data de cacatul general, cel despre care am pomenit mai inainte. Ajung la concluzia ca tara asta are nevoie de o rebeliune.

Daca spune ca sunt criminala, imi indeplineste una din dorintele inca din copilarie, de a fi criminal in serie. Toate instinctele insa mi le-am [re]directionat in poezie si in general, scris. Intr-o lume in care toti se pretind poeti si-si publica neroziile chiar si pentru audienta generala, cei indurerati de asta sunt tot poetii. Se aseamana mult cu bisexualitatea, un trend tipic adolescentilor abia iesiti din infantilism si indreptandu-se cu pasi repezi spre o stare maligna de adulti.

Si in acea introspectie plictisita si analizand o potentiala victima a starii evazive de Untermensch mandru, imaginandu-mi modalitati ingenioase de a-i taia capul si de a-i face multe, multe "autopsii" pe viu, il vad pe El, undeva, o holograma a unei lumi ideale, cu o singura privire reusind sa-mi renasca instinctele de animal, dorinta de a-l avea in mine, pulsand ca o vena temandu-se de moartea violenta... Isi bea cafeaua, parca din ea ieseau repede raze de soare, isi musca buzele pe care acum ceva timp le muscam eu, le adoram, le simteam gustul si detestam fiecare picatura de bere care murea pe ele, voind sa mor eu, de o mie de ori.

Si la fiecare pas, intr-o ignoranta ce numai iubire eterna nastea, ma cutremura prezenta lui simpla, complexa, simtindu-i bratele in jurul meu, in mintea mea, in amintirea noastra, in sarutul atat de animalic prin care m-a invatat sa simt acea dorinta de a fi una cu El.

Si-mi analizam salturile in inconstienta si doream inca o rebeliune, doresc sa se omoare mastile pe care le poarta azi puternicii tarii, ai Regatului, ai Soarelui, intr-o zi ca asta totul e o masca a trecutului.

Mmmmm ce chef am sa nu mai aberez. Nu vreau sa se schimbe ceva in societate, vreau eu sa schimb ceva. Acum. Si de n-o fi acum, va fi mai greu. Societate de cacat, principii de mantuiala, dorim noi oare sa fim "apti" pentru o societate de tembelizare? Si toti suntem unici, toti depresivi, unul mai special decat celalalt, o voce mai de Neanderthal decat cealalta, toti suntem mai nou artisti, neintelesi, genii cucerite de o scuza acceptata. "Sunt asa cum vreau eu, dar sunt asa pentru ca vreti voi." Nu. De-ai fi asa cum vrei tu, n-ar trebui sa mai dai socoteala, n-ar mai trebui sa urli in gura mare unor straini ca tu esti cel mai fericit. Daca esti, de ce-i deranjezi pe ceilalti? Fericirea presupune fericire, de esti fericit cu-adevarat, ceilalti vor zambi cand te vor vedea, nu vor fugi de vor rupe pamantul ca debordezi de un miros de usturoi al unei fericiri presupuse.


Românization > Romanization

There was once a period in these people's "life" when some big guys came over their lands and turned them into what they were. Kind of like nowadays relationships. But besides the SEXUAL interpretation of the Romanization [women engaging with men and viceversa] there was also a CULTURAL exchange. That exchange meant in fact the supremacy of that event.
But as all the beautiful things turn into tainted masquerades, what this country turns into is Românization. Romanian is not similar to patriotic, brave, historical anymore, it is similar to peasant, overnight enriched, illiterate and uneducated.

Bah. Cum sa traduci Cartoon Network in romana ca saracii copii sa devina ca americanii care nu stiu nici o limba straina si se mai si mandresc cu asta in filme cand baga accentul ala tampit cand incearca sa zica trei cuvinte in franceza si nu inteleg nici ce-i aia "je veux". Cum sa apreciezi numai avortoni cu aere [mirosuri] de superstaruri din ghena, care nici macar nu stiu jumatate din alfabet, dar sunt "elevi eminenti" si mai nou, "consilieri in politica" si sa-ti bati joc de talentele adevarate CA MAI APOI sa te plangi ca pleaca in strainatate?

Tembelization. Trezirea! Fara a parea religioasa, va rezervati cu mare sarguinta locurile in iad. Mai nou, unui copil abia nascut nu-i dai cadou o jucarie ca macar sa-l faci sa se simta copil, ci ii dai 1 milion de dolari, ca pe la 7 ani sa vrea o insula si pe la 30 sa vrea tot Universul.

As vrea ca macar pentru o saptamana sa fiu dictator. Artistii, poetii, cantaretii, toti cei ce-si traiesc viata fara sa epateze, fara sa manance cacat, chiar si cei fara vreun talent, dar la locul lor, ei merita respectul. Un om de calitate poate sa nu lase nimic in urma, dar sa traiasca cu-adevarat.

Nu mai vreau obscenitatea asta de "celebritate". Nu mai vreau sa ma deranjati. Traiti-va cacatul cu grupurile voastre, dar nu mi-l mai bagati mie pe gat. Nu ne mai intoxicati. Nu ne mai Românizati. Nu mai faceti ca intelesul cuvantului astuia sa fie nepotismul, spaga, lipsa de educatie, lipsa de adevar, de calitate.

Sau, pe romaneste, muriti dracu odata. Pe bune ca s-a intors lumea cu curu-n sus. In momentul in care a ajuns un plod sa primeasca un milion de dolari la 4 zile, e clar, nu miroase a bine. Ma bucur enorm ca traiesc intr-o familie care m-a invatat ca banul e un mijloc si nu un scop, ca fotografia de calitate nu pune pret pe silicon, ca o voce adevarata nu are nevoie si de un cur adevarat, ca exista chitari, doamnelor si domnilor, nu "chestia aia care seamana cu un 'obiect falic'", ca anii '60 nu sunt pentru fraieri, ca poti sa fii asa cum vrei tu si nu cum vrea societatea sau, mai rau, "libertatea".

Nu ma mai iau de Libertatea. Ca deh, daca aia-i libertate, atunci cu mandrie pot spune ca sunt condamnata la maxima securitate pe viata.

Nu mai am chef sa mai scriu acum.


Humanity. Requiem. Übermensch.

Humanity is long gone. Do you want to make something good for this world? For a first, I have a visceral hatred for fur coats. And more, for people who praise them. For once if you'd take Paris Hilton and skin her alive in front of other Paris Hiltons, it would be cruel murder. If you choose to love for real and detach yourself from the demands of society, you're a fucktard, but if you make fun of those around you're adored.

What is society anyway? A melting pot of shit and piss and trash. Come contradict me. Come tell me it's the most beautiful thing to be accepted by something you abhor. Why...? To blend in, to have a job, to be just another filthy face in the crowd. You talk about Untermensch. And if you want to be one, feel free, it's the easiest.

I am spreading my arms to embrace the Übermensch. Acknowledge this: "All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man? What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. And man shall be just that for the overman: a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment…". [Friedrich Nietzsche]

I am spreading my wings to become Übermensch. Already my mind has been set on realizing that the ape-like laughters at my special nature are caused by the will to be NOTICED by someone who is obviously higher than you, because you feel hate towards the Übermensch, you are one with the crowd and the Übermensch will only treat you likewise.

Don't get me wrong. I am on my way to become Übermensch by being Übermensch. I was born one, tried to induce my human nature when I realized it was in vain, hence my pride.

I do not accept requests from Untermenschen. I don't care what they think, only it bothers me when they express it loudly [most of the times], for I need complete detachment. Your voices bring me back to your shit. Your voices will not change me, will not make me fall and blend in, but will only make me despise you more. And my despise has no limits.

I feel so free, so proud, amongst my fellow Übermenschen in progress, that I don't need stains from this wounded society. I am not unique, yet I am, as all, I am not "me", I might be a stereotype, but at least a stereotype of one who doesn't blend in with society, but prefers to blend in with the more rebel ones.

I might be seen as an arrogant one, and trust me, I am whatever you say I am. I am whatever you claim I am, whatever you dream I am, whatever you think I am. You think all I spoke here is a lie, or a conception of my sick mind, it is true. You think it is all true, it is. You think I am depressed, I am.

"You speak of a person I do not know".