PseudoNeoPostModernism

Get up, stand up, rub your eyes. Black tea and the usual toast with assortments followed by, predictably, yoghurt and fruits. School, little jokes and pokes, people that tend to treat you like shit for the sole reason that you are a student, almost as if you were flawed, more human and prone to mistakes than them, who sit at their desks like on thrones and decide your fate according to their whims. Coffee follows; God, I love the smell of coffee. Accompanied by Mountain Dew or 7Up, and it just melts my heart away. You go home, the house is empty. Your room so neat and clean, so different from how you’d left it. Turn on the music and check your email, silly. The cat makes a small jump and ends up in your lap, craving attention. Pet it, nurture it, love it. Love him, it is a he, isn’t it? You’re hungry yet unwilling to supply the effort necessary to cook something more advanced than french fries so you settle on junk food. Take your pills, there are six boxes of pills on my desk. Biotine for hair, Mental+ for thoughts, Calcium for bones, Neurofen for head aches. Open the book and read a few pages, return to the cover to admire its design. Draw, draw, draw, grafite on the side of your palm and your fingers numb and sore. Pencil shavings cover your paper but satisfaction floats around you and your work. Pilates, Tae Bo and maybe some more pills and you’ll be as good as new.

Lasand pozele la o parte, am o noua obsesie muzicala. Sander Kleinenberg – The Fruit. Nu imi vine sa cred ca l-am ratat cand a venit pe plaiurile romanesti. Si pana la urma nu stiu daca ajung nici la Samael pe 3 decembrie. Fapt care ma deprima total. Oricum, ziceam de Kleinenberg. E genial. The Fruit e genul de piesa pe care poti sa o asculti pe repeat ore intregi fara sa te plictisesti sau sa te urci pe pereti. Eu si electronica. Cine ar fi crezut?

Se facu astfel ca plecaram dimineata la ora 8 si putin din Tulcea, pe ceata si cu Norah Jones in cd player, cand, in ceata deasa zariram o cireada de vaci (nedirijata). Iar apoi, uitandu-ne din nou in fata noastra, o nesimtita baltata ce statea linistita fix in mijlocul drumului nostru, privindu-ne complet imperturbabila.

This afternoon I was walking down the old Danube’s bank. I figured I’d take a picture with my phone. An old man came up to me and said nowadays it’s expensive to take colored pictures. I replied that black and white has a special charm anyway, and he laughed and approved. He told me how some german tourists took pictures of him and his friends sitting on a bench here a couple of weeks ago and that the pictures they took were gloriously colorful and bright. He said he wanted one for himself but they told him he needs a PC to view them. He didn’t understand, just said “Oh.” and didn’t delve further into it because he was ashamed for not knowing what a PC was. I told him he didn’t need to know anyway. Nowadays people like black and white more than color.

Ah, Constanta, am crezut ca o sa te vad ultima oara atunci cand cu fugitul cu masina pana la plaja Modern, dar se pare ca acum te voi vedea saptamanal, chit ca-i toamna si vine iarna. Ideea e ca chiar imi place ce se face la meditatii pentru arhitectura. Cel putin prima sedinta a fost super. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Autogara Tulcea. Asteptand mai mult de o ora microbuzul cu bagajele mele pe care nu am avut timp sa le iau din Bucuresti fara sa pierd masina de 17:30, m-am imprietenit cu locatarii permanenti ai autogarii, ale caror figuri mi s-au parut mult mai inteligente decat a oamenilor din jur.

“I’m sitting in my underwear watching the window intentively as rain drops smear themselves onto it slowly, my hair put up in a neat pony tail despite it being soiled by rain and hairspray. I’m wondering what I’m doing here. What I’m doing period. What does it matter anyway, when outside the humidity is chockingly thick. My bones feel heavier than the immense clouds hanging above us as I lean over the desk to get closer to the window.”

(19-05-2006)

Nici acum nu stiu ce fac exact. Si nici acum nu inteleg de ce imi lipesc nasul de geamul stropit de ploaie. Dar acum am o idee. Si ideea mea e mai mult o senzatie. Si senzatia aia poate fi cel mai bine evocata printr-un singur cuvant: happiness.