profit de ocazie sa imi fac lista cu toate lucrurile pe care vreau sa le fac primavara asta. Top of the list este sa ma relaxez…sa ating punctul ala in care chestiile naspa si stresante din jur nu ma mai ating….Oare e posibil..hmm…..will try

ce mai……o sa fiu ca in cantecul ala pe care l-am invatat la camin, pe vremea lui ceausescu………..viinnnee viiiinnnee primavaraaa, floriceellleeee in toaaaataa taraaa…….unii mai rai cantau flocirele in toata tara…..si educatoarea nu se prindea deloc cine isi permite asemenea imprudenta verbala

alte chestii pe lista mea sunt absolute materiale…..asa ca le tin pentru mine

so, have a very happy spring

Apoi aflu ca unei studente de-ale mele i s-a furat geanta cu acte, bani, telefon in fata scarii cand se intorcea acasa. Hotul sau hoata (nu a apucat sa isi dea seama daca e femeie sau barbat) a lovit-o in cap.
Cum naiba e posibil asa ceva? Cum sa te intorci seara acasa si sa iti dea un cretin/o cretina in cap si sa iti fure geanta?

Mi se pare ca totul e pe dos. Nu mai inteleg nimic, de la conversatiile frivole, mersul cu autobuzul, despartiri si nonsensuri pana la cretinismul tampitilor care dau cuiva in cap sa ii fure banii si telefonul……What the fuck is wrong with the people?

Sweet little nightmare

I’ve been alone for a long, long time of my life.
I am tired of those winter nights without you…
Where are the good days, when I used to sleep well?
Where are my soldier’s boots? Where is the sergeant Mandell?
I fear death and I fear a lot of things and I cry,
I’m afraid of a girl like you and I’m shy
Where is my apple tree?
Where is my dear backyard?
Why do you stare at me, I’ve been lifesick from the start.
I’ve been looking for me these years and I found the sea
I’m loosing my words while I begin to see.
Singing the lullaby, children fall asleep
I see the forest while I’m sinking so deep.
Mother help me to go to bed, I’m too tired!
Father wash both my little hands and kiss me good night.
Wind of the western north gently whips my face,
I’m dreaming of this sad human race.
Kids are playing in the churchyard, don’t you see?
Red soldiers kill them all and then me
Heaven looks like New Yourk, St. Peter’s singing the blues,
I’m lost and I’m trying to find my home,
Mother help me to go to bed, I’m to tïred…
Mother help me to go to bed…

“La mijlocul lacului, malurile au disparut cu totul sub perdelele ploii. Nicio linie, niciun punct de reper dincolo de marginea barcii. Doar cenusiul aerului, stropii de ploaie si valurile linistite acuma, carea dadeau impresia ca vin de nicaieri. Pana si inaintarea noastra parea fara nicio tinta . Eram pur si simplu acolo, unul langa altul, in tzaraitul adormitor al ploii, la ceasul unui apus rece ca solzii de peste, vedeam chipul unei femei care zambea vag – fericita, ai fi zis – un chip siroind de lacrimile acelea neintrerupte pe care cerul i le varsa pe obraji….

Intelegeam acum ca asa isi traia ea viata de dupa viata. O calatorie domoala, fara un tel vizibil, dar marcata de un sens simplu si profund.

Barca a acostat orbeste , exact in locul din care plecasem”.

ieseam de la metrou, de la gorjului, in militari….in fata mea, pe scarile rulante o tipa si un tip. pe ea nu o vedeam. el era foarte slab si uratzel…….se juca cu o manusa, si o lovea usor peste fata pe ea. ea il privea, el zambea din priviri si o tot lovea in joaca cu manusa. semana cu o joaca a inceputurilor, a inocentei……era atata tandrete in gestul lui lent, in privirea lui….aproape ca am simtit invidie…

Coltul Verde

Prima etapa din infrumuseterea vietii e coltul verde. Se vede in poza. Lucrez la fericirea personala. Grea sarcina.

I was thinking of making several categories and post different things, in both Romanian and English. Like politics, chit-chat, weekend stuff, books and many many more.

Pfffiuuuu. I just hate Mondays, like the song goes and I wish it were Friday evening.

Quiet evening, a warm night, despite the ageing autumn outside. I sit with the window opened and smell the fresh air.
There is nothing fundamental that I could write in this post, my intention is not to show off or promote my beliefs or something like that.

I am only writing for the fun of it, for the delight and pleasure of hitting the keys, typing small dark letters, each with a unique personality, the kind of letters that stand apart if combined originally.
I am writing to share sensations, to tell the www world, or just remind me, how the october night feels here, how soft the new bed sheets are, how warm my hands are, how relaxed the glass of beer is and so on.

So, basically it is going to be meaningless words, as the title suggests, but the kind of meaningless words that shelter and hide emotions, lived or upcoming, that tell stories or foresee the next day.

Pax vobiscum!