acum 2 saptamani cand l-am adus era cat un sobolan, acum e cat un sobolan mai mare 😀 chitaie ca un soarec, piuie ca un squeaky toy, sare ca un cangur, doarme ca un porc si cerseste ca un magar. Deocamdata n-a apucat sa distruga tot dar potential are sigur. Daca era fata il chema la fel:P
Kerouac+ Suede august 10, 2009
‘Just about that time a strange thing began to haunt me. It was this: I had forgotten something. There was a decision that I was about to make before Dean showed up, and now it was driven clear out of my mind but still hung on the tip of my mind’s tongue. I kept snapping my fingers, trying to remember it. I even mentioned it. And I couldn’t even tell if it was a real decision or just a thought I had forgotten. It haunted and flabbergasted me, made me sad. It had to do somewhat with the Shrouded Traveller. Carlo Marx and I once sat down together, knee to knee, in two chairs, facing, and I told him a dream I had about a strange Arabian figure that was pursuing me across the desert; that I tried to avoid; that finally overtook me just before I reached the Protective City. ‘ Who is this?’ siad Carlo. We pondered it. I proposed it was myself, wearing a shroud. That wasn’t it. Something, someone, some spirit was pursuing all of us across the desert of life and was bound to catch us before we reached Heaven. Naturally, now that I look back on this, this is only death: death will overtake us before Heaven. The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die? In the rush of events I kept thinking about this in the back of my mind. I told it to Dean and he instantly recognized it as the mere simple longing for pure death; and because we’re all of us never in life again, he, rightly, would have nothing to do with it, and I agreed with him then.‘
Jack Kerouac- On the Road
‘Oh, we are young and not tired of it’
tonight in the news.. august 3, 2009
Ma nedumereste o chestie inca de mai demult: mereu cand sunt intrebate rudele/vecinii/prietenii ce parere au despre ruda/vecinul/prietenul lor care tocmai a hacuit pe cineva si/sau chiar pe el insusi, in mai toate cazurile auzim unul sau mai multe din enunturile: „Era un baiat asa politicos!”,” A fost mereu un copil cuminte..”, „Ma saluta intotdeauna cand ne intalneam pe scara”. Ok, omu nu umbla cu un carlig insangerat dupa el, nu mirosea de la o posta a crima, si nici nu se vedea in ochii lui ca something creepy was just waiting to happen, deci clar nu e murderer material. Deducem ca orice criminal „ca la carte” are atributele astea, si pe deasupra si pe cel mai odios semn, anume ca in loc sa-si salute vecinii maraie la ei, cu o privire de vampir (nu, n-am vazut twilight si nici nu intentionez) si bale la gura. Or smth. Deci, tanti geta, daca baietanu proaspat mutat la parter nu va da buna ziua..sugerez sa va puneti mai multe incuietori la usa, ca e clar ca se-mpute treaba in curand. The sad, bone-chilling truth is that, in fact, creeps and murderers fit just right among us and seem perfectly normal..till they’re not anymore.
Si o nedumerire de-a lu mama, pe care o impartasesc.. Cine umbla cu cate 1000-5000 de euro in buzunar? As in.. „Romanii vor scoate din buzunar intre 1000 si 5000 de euro pentru un sejur in Hawaii”. Ma rog, probabil Mamaia but still.. expresiile astea mega inteligente impanzesc mereu stirile-reportaj de gen. Iar cand mai sunt insotite si de o micro-punere in scena a reporterului, e de vis. Cum se fac ei ca scot banii din buzunar, cam la fel de mecanic si cretinoid cum aratam si noi in gradinita cand trebuia sa zicem poezii si sa le si „ilustram”. Ceva de genul „afara ninge”. Si abia dupa vreo 5 secunde si gestul ala cu mainile, de aleluia 😛 Or maybe its just me (and my equally criticizing mom). Poate ca voi chiar umblati cu cate 1000 de euro indesati in buzunar.. you lucky bastards.. ala care recunoaste are da o bere:P
The vague hint of „eau de rambling” is due to the heat. Sorry, you gotta wait till the end of summer for (a tad) more intelligent remarks.