thought of the day: my soul apparently weighs as much as a hummingbird. is there anything more appropriate than this comparison?
All those who disagree I have a soul say "I"... or was it "aye"? >:)

Follow-up

A fost ca intr-un banc. Eram la colt. Eram la colt si dadeam sa traversez, si era verde de la copaci si rosu de la amurgul lenes (mufa again) si portocaliu de la tenisii care ma strangeau ca dracu, si mi-a cantat o voce in cap: totul e bine. Am reusit sa trec si de asta. Lemmingu ruleaza :D

Totul e o-capa

Cat de greu este sa uiti?
Cat de usor este sa te simti singur cu o galagie de oameni in jur?
Cat de simplu e sa iti doresti, si cat de complicat e sa se indeplineasca?
Sa uiti ce a fost, sa se estompeze luminile si sunetele, acordurile si rasetele si mirosul de mandarine si de iarna, si fosnetul de prelate de masini. Sa uiti si lacrimi, si jucarii, si dude mancate din copac, dar si pantofi de o culoare pe care acum nu ti-o poti aduce aminte? Cat e usor e sa uiti sosetele cu dungi pe care nu le-ai stiut niciodata, si privirea acuzatoare pe care ti-ar arunca-o daca te-ar cunoaste? Cat de greu e sa regasesti pe cineva intr-o camera cu trandafiri uscati risipiti prin jur? Si cat de mult doare daca extraterestrul din alien ar zbughi-o din pieptul tau in fiecare noapte, dar in loc de extraterestru, la contactul cu atmosfera terestra, s-ar transforma in tricoul acela galben gasit intr-un demisol dubios si uitat?
De ce unora nu le e bine cu oamenii, pana cand se trezesc intr-o zi ca ii doresc inapoi, si le gasesc urmele pe net fara sa mai cunoasca ce au devenit, prin ce au trecut pentru a ajunge acolo, si unde vor sa mai ajunga mai departe, acei oameni? De ce sa iti pierzi viata fugind dupa oameni, cand poti sa ti-o petreci fugind dupa fluturi?
Vreau sa pot, vreau sa stiu, vreau sa iert si sa nu mai uit, vreau sa pot sa imi pun intrebarile, si sa mi se raspunda sincer la ele, vreau sa cred in ceva, vreau sa am sunshine in a bag, vreau sa rad la soare, vreau sa ma acopere copaci, si nu pamant, vreau sa nu mai fie praf, vreau sa ma crezi si sa ma stii cum m-ai stiut si pana acum.
Vreau sa ma tii de mana, sa imi spui ca totul e bine, nu ma intereseaza cum va fi, vreau sa ma trezesc langa tine, vreau ceai atunci cand ma doare capul, vreau discutii filosofice in umbra de mausoleu, si zile senine in care singura umbra sa fie a mea.
Vreau culori care sa imi murmure in urechi promisiuni de zile senine, si vreau fluturi pe care sa ii urmaresc prin oras aiurea, asa cum faceam odata.
Vreau un catel care sa ma intampine la usa blocului, si sa te visez mereu, mereu, in fiecare noapte, numai pe tine, si cozonac. Si mai vreau sa ma iei in brate fara motiv, asa cum m-ai luat atunci cand semanai cu un puisor de gaina proaspat iesit din ou, sa ma ridici in brate, sa te joci alaturi de mine si sa fim copii prosti impreuna, sa mergem cu paturica pe iarba, intre furnici si cer, sa radem, sa radem mereu, eu de bucurie si tu de mine. Time for holding hands together, time for rainbow-coloured weather, a time of make-believe.
Vreau bomboane la punga de hartie maronie, si cacao cu scortisoara, si nisip in sandale, si sandale de cluj, si catedrale si music pub, si plimbari aiurea descoperind ardealul, si sa ma iei cu tine si sa fugim undeva, la doua statii de tramvai de casa, unde e alta lume si unde totul o sa fie bine. Litania mea. Totul o sa fie bine.

Meadow shade star

In the best tradition of metal bands everywhere, I stole three words out of the air and banged them smack together to form a label for a smile. The smile that refuses to leave my lips, now that the hardship has passed, that the world has colour and, on the contrary, lacks the tin taste that accompanied today.
And of course, as always, as all the time since that time that seems so long ago, the source of it... I love that source. Love it with every breath and bone, as I have said before. I said it the first time because lack of space (160 spaces) didn't permit what I realize now would have had all the more chance to sound gaudy and lame. And I realized that it is true and complete. Every breath, every bone. That includes heartbeats, fibers of beings and other cliches that have gotten to mean nothing to anyone except tinsel-town producers (that, in order to use a little cliche of our very own).
Back to the smile. Always back to the smile, and back to the source of the smile, which, with the risk of now sounding gaudy and/or lame, peoples my thoughts, inexorably and ultimately. Uber-populates, as mufa would say :D
It feels like a dream out of a crackhead hippie's head, with that odious thing behind us, looming, leering, casting a shadow and sighing with frustration in the wind that it could not reach us, the cold evil shadow of the dead, and we wallowed in sunshine and shade, on that meadow. And it was so weird, like a picture had been taken and the main characters afterwards cut out with a pair of scissors. Can you see it? The girl is sitting between two boys, laughing, frowning, sighing and speaking, smoking peacefully, now that she is allowed, feeling that everything is right and perfect, though you cannot tell by her face, except if you were to start guessing and making assuptions upon her gaze. Then the scene shifts, one of them is standing, the other with the girl's head in his lap, and they're talking and laughing away. This is yesterday, and today, and tomorrow and every day after that. This is sun and warmth and happiness, sheer, unadulterated happiness, and love, and the truest and most amazing of friendships, that will last until the end of time. I wish the girl could turn to the boy in whose lap she is lying, and confess that she didn't mean all that scientific crud about electrical impulses and the fact that the only reason they are together is because society innoculates in all a need to never be alone, always be with a mate. She only half means those things, they are true and valid for everyone else. They do not apply here, of course, since the source of her everlasting smile is her soulmate, her twin, her half, and every other word from that semantic family of completeness. She did not mean it, but pride and persuasiveness for the sake of it should be deadly sins, and perhaps they are, for they have no place in relation to your own half. But of course, that would somewhere deny the sheer existence of the bond they love and laugh about: he already knows...

hide

I want to hide away from the world at your chest
hide away because I am ugly,
ugly as night,
ugly as sin,
dark as a rotten fruit.
promissing depths are filled by fear
and revulsion caused by fear
and hatred caused by it all.
Your chest fits mine
Your forehead fits mine
pieces of a puzzle, we are joined
Hide me away from the ugly world
and keep saying that everything will be alright.

Reciclam cuvinte

What was it that the wise people of our day said, in one of those remotely embarassing chain letters? That for every ray of sunshine god kills a kitten? Or was it something about guys doing... erm... you know... and it reflecting reprobably on puppies? Whatever. All cutsey things should DIE mwhahah...
I'm still haunted by cellos and dubious tram expeditions. And there's this dumb expectation that something positively amazing will happen in the next few days. It's so lame to actually sit on your bee-hind and wait for something to happen, to come to you, when you should go out there and cut down a tree and kill a little old lady while she's crossing the street... I have an inkling that this wasn't exactly it, either.
I feel displaced. Today a blonde woman of an uncertain age was gravitating around my head, and I was answering her questions as if my voice came from some other body.
I'm facing 4 months of doing diddly squat. If only the cellos would get out of my friggin head, then this holiday will be exactly and lamely alike the last one. I want a properly round and yellow moon for to howl at...

Apo 2

Apocalyptica *faints*