You are not your grande latte

Vorbeam azi cu un tip.Era varza de indragostit si fusese parasit.Sau tocmai pentru ca fusese parasit era varza de indragostit.Inca oscilez, desi inclin spre a doua...

Incerca sa ma convinga de "valoarea" celei care i-a inchis usa in nas.Imi prezenta faptul ca tipa era full-option: ce carti citea, ce muzica asculta, ce meseriasa era in pat...m-am intrebat de ce incerca sa obiectiveze chestiile astea.Nu mi-a luat prea mult pana sa imi dau seama ca ceea ce facea era sa-si cuantifice propriul indice de popularitate.Ea era o suma a tuturor randurilor citite, a colturilor de lume atinse,a oamenilor trecuti prin cearsafurile ei,a IQului si a inteligentei sale afective.Intre el si ea fusese odata pus "=", ea era minunata, ergo, el era la fel de minunat.Si acum ea e mult prea mirobolanta pentru el.De unde si virtuala dezamagire,care, analizand asa din Hubble, nu se manifesta ca atare,ci e mai degraba o reactie puerila, o forma de egoism nativ: "Nu mi se mai da?Eu vreau sa mi se dea.Pentru ca merit". Tipa,cand a iesit pe usa,si-a luat mai mult decat cartile si filmele la subrat: a carat puncte bune de la sectiunea respect de sine.

Stau si ma intreb: de ce sa vezi in 'al de langa tine un grafic al propriului statut social?Iti tine de cald noaptea gandu' ca aia/ala care (daca) te strange in brate are unghiile facute, un portofel cat Biblia sau porn star oral skills?

Don't answer that.

Am stat si m-am gandit ce caut.Daca mai caut.Si i-am aplicat indicatoru meu.Concluzii?

Pai...odata,imi aduc aminte ca eram atat de prinsa in gandurile mele ca am mancat strudel cu stafide.Mi-a luat un sfert de strudel, branza aia gretoasa si vreo 4 stafide pana sa-mi dau seama ca ceea ce ingurgitam nu erau mere.

Si atunci am stiut:

Atractia e direct proportionala cu capacitatea celuilalt de a face sa dispara pana si mobila din propria-ti camera  odata cu realitatea ta de cacat si invers proportionala cu numarul de beri baute impreuna.

The secret to life itself.

Sinestezii

Gasit soundtrack.Over.

Maidanu mexican s-a dovedit a fi o mahala din Cuba.Dar asta nu schimba cu nimic lucrurile.

Stateam la calc, ascultam, si pentru fix doua secunde toata camera s-a inundat de mirosul lui.Recunosc, am intrat in fibrilatii.

Mi-am aruncat privirea peste umarul stang, nu era nimeni acolo.

Sper ca daca ma incumet acum la un MRI sa mi se gaseasca vreo anomalie in lobul parietal, o problema neurologica sau macar schizofrenia din oficiu, pentru ca orice alta explicatie ar avea consecinte de magnitudine cataclismica.

"Extinction: because you touch yourself at night"

Pierdut soundtrack.Il declar nul

Ma doare sangele din mine.N-am patit asa ceva de cand ma stiu.

Ieri noapte am comis-o din nou.

Si azi mi-s ca o Cenusareasa.Da,mi s-a intins  fardul si arat ca un raton, da ,sunt panze de paianjen in cele mai accesibile colturi ale mintii mele, si da...sunt chiauna.

Si ce fac?Caut de juma de ora blestematul de  cantec care a facut timpul sa stea in loc.Cine s-ar fi gandit ca melodia aia cu iz de maidan mexican o sa ajunga sa ma prinda intr-un loop si sa refuze sa-mi dea drumu'? Prima oara cand am auzit-o pot sa zic ,fara urma de indoiala,ca mi-a trecut pe langa ureche insesizabil, ca gloantele din Matrix.

Dar cand a s-a iscat aznoapte, m-a prins in ofsaid.Mi s-au taiat genunchii.A trebuit sa imi iau un moment.

Si mi l-am luat; mi l-am permis ca pe un trip.Numai ca de data asta muzica nu traducea grafice alternative si desene animate, ci caldura,piele, parfum si priviri plecate.

Cine avea sa stie ca va fi fost litania unui avorton cu ochii verzi?

Subject:[none]

"Water travels by itself (...)"

Losing my favourite game

Fiecare sesiune produce un moment de nesabuinta.

De obicei se rezuma la a urmari emisiunile lui Dan Diaconescu pana la 3 dimineata.Pentru cateva ore creierul meu isi inceteaza activitatea in ceea ce pare a fi un colaps cerebral ireversibil.Magda Ciumac,Oana Zavoranu,Avem in direct craca de care s-a spanzurat Diana Malos, Iliuta profetul din ghena-toate astea imi aduc o satisfactie vecina cu onanismul.

De ce sesiunea asta trebuia sa fie altfel?

Orice explicatie nu pare  suficient de rezonabila .

I just flipped off this amazing guy...de ce?Pentru ca mi s-a parut mie ca e prea ok.Ca nu e suficient de gaunos.Ca nu i-as putea face niciodata rau.Ca mi-e drag.Ca he seems pretty decent.Ca nu as vrea sa ma tina de mana dar nici sa ma lege de pat cu un cordon de halat.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Vreme de 2 ani interactiunea cu acest individ nu mi-a adus decat provocari, conversatii faine, futere de minti, cineva la care sa ma pot gandi in stransoarea altcuiva,nopti de transpiratie si nesomn, priviri piezise pe coridoare.

Something to look forward to...

Si acum,fara preaviz, sa zic:sorry...I  just happen to like you too damn much?!!

As putea la fel de bine sa-mi lipesc un post-it in frunte cu "sunt lesbiana".

"Uneori cel mai bun lucru in viata e sa ratezi cel mai bun lucru in viata".Izzit???

Du béton

"Du bonheur à l'état pur, brut, natif, volcanique, quel pied ! C'était mieux que tout, mieux que la drogue, mieux que l'héro, mieux que la dope, coke, crack, fix, joint, shit, shoot, snif, pét, ganja, marie-jeanne, cannabis, beuh, peyotl, buvard, acide, LSD, extasy. Mieux que le sexe, mieux que la fellation, soixante-neuf, partouze, masturbation, tantrisme, kamasutra, brouette thaïlandaise.Mieux que le Nutella au beurre de cacahuète et le milkshake banane. Mieux que toutes les trilogies de George Lucas, l'intégrale des Muppet Show, la fin de 2001. Mieux que le déhanché d'Emma Peel, Marilyn, la Schtroumpfette, Lara Croft, Naomi Campbell et le grain de beauté de Cindy Crawford. Mieux que la face B d'Abbey Road, les solos d'Hendrix, le petit pas de Neil Armstrong sur la lune.Le Space Mountain, la ronde du Père Noël, la fortune de Bill Gates, les transes du Dalaï lama, les NDE, la résurrection de Lazare, toutes les piquouzes de testostérone de Schwarzy, le collagène dans les lèvres de Pamela Anderson. Mieux que Woodstock et les raves parties les plus orgasmiques. Mieux que la défonce de Sade, Rimbaud, Morrison et Castaneda.

Mieux que la liberté.

Mieux que la vie"

Ce se intampla atunci cand faci piruete pe sarma ghimpata dintre instinct si autocontrol?

Ce se intampla cand nu vrei sa mergi prea departe dar colapsezi in campul magnetic al unei supernove erotice ?

Va spun eu,adormi la 5 dimineata transpirat dupa ce il visezi pe bunicul tau inviat pe gresia de la bucatarie, incercand sa-si indrepte coloana si reprosand ca i-am aruncat sicriul de la etajul 2.

Nu te flata,nu vreau sa petrec o eternitate cu tine in beton armat.

Ce zici de astazi?

Get out of my tub

Feeling tired,lonesome.Another day,another dare.I can't really rely on truth,as it turnes out, for with great struggle it has yet to be earned .
I don't wanna open my eyes,face myself...brace myself for this.
My intoxicated mind is playing tricks on me.
I need to sink,for I no longer have the desire to swim in this crowd.
My steps lead me to the nearest place I can feel at ease:water races against my limbs.There's nothing here but it's echo as it smashes into my walls.The smell of arnica on my scarred skin,pieces of me falling into the cold.
Me and my shadow.A curse on us both:bond together for all timet.I smoke my lucky's as she sits on the toillet seat trashing COSMO.Oh,for chrissake, just give me 5 minutes alone.
She just laughes at my face: "You know what,I don't like your attitude.You've got anger-management issues.Why don't you try that yoga scam or,pilates..or jumping in front of the 8.52 train as a matter of fact?".
"Anger management?How's that even a concept?"
The bitch just wasn't having it :"It's not my fault you cannot reach your innerself.Try to get out more, read a book,buy a puppy."
"Oh don't qoute me bumper-stickers!what do you ...??"
"Everything there is to know.And trust me when I say I would rather not know most of your junk.I'm here for you.That's what shadows are for,ey,darlin'?"
I would so want to beat the livin shit out of her.'cept she doesn't have one.
Bloody buffoon...What do you want from me?Why can't you be a nice shadow, like everyone else's and at least have an ounce of consideration and maybe,just maybe...SHUT THE FUCK UP?
"Why can't we be friends? You could talk to me... best confidant you'll EVER get.At least I won't hit on your boyfriend...how's that for a deal?"
"Toto, it's time for you to go to Kansas. I swear to God I'll hit that switch and let you play with your buddies for the rest of the day."
"I've seen the way you look at him.The way you talk to him..."
Hemoglobine rush from my toes to my head.
"Don't worry,it's not like I'm eager to get you in the news or somethin..."
"Just do yourself a favour,and cut it off.I'm not in the mood for this."
"Are you ever...?You're trying to brush him out of your flesh, so that it doesn't get to your blood so that it doesn't get to your heart."
"Look,I'm not into playing your little mindgames right now...I'm in need for my breakfast vodka, and you need to cut me some slack.."
"You know...it doesn't really matter if you give it a thought or not.It doesn't really matter if you suck on 12 gallons of vodka, caipirioshkas,mojitos ...this won't go away. They'll all just taste the same: electric and sweet. Taste of his lips crushing yours.Tiny liquid nitrogen molecules destroing your immune system like plague.You WILL collapse,and when you do,there'll be no one to collect your sorry ass off the premises.I just want you to..."
Lights off.
No need to hear nor feel.
Now, get out of my tub!