aaa… doi ani de blog just had a flash.

After a steady one night stand (actually quite an ongoing relationship) with a bottle of vodka, you wonder the beach in a haze. One thing that always stops me and has me starring for minutes, lost in shamanic stories, mumbling incoherent words of praise is this:

I’ve seen them for years, but only today I found out what they do. They’re jugglers and they play with firepois and devil sticks. They’re beautiful. They call themselves Raja and they promise to keep you fascinated

Lars’ next phone

i definitely have a thing for activists. definitely.

pentru ca Ştrumfu e in soul-searching mode si face ce face si nu se sesizeaza cu o critica colorata, “plina de umor” si mult mai informata, ma sesizez eu, neica nimeni. nu am vazut tv un an si. acum cand ma uit zapp-ez pana transpira telecomanda si ma plictisesc repede la multe. dar tare m-a stresat doar asta:

nu stiu ce-a gandit creative-ul din spate, dar faptul ca se spune de fix 7 ori “scoace capu’ pe fireastra” imi impanzeste mintea si ma face sa vreau sa-mi vandalizez televizorul. bai nene… come on!

vin din spate si cele menite sa reformeze românii: cea cu fetita care sare prin parbriz si cea cu veverita care ramane vaduva ca veveritu infuleca vara de vara costita cu varza. eu inteleg ca am fost identificati prin focus grupuri sau mai stiu eu ce drept grei de mansarda si atunci ni se serveste un mesaj violento-naspa “bre, schimba-ti nazurile ca uite e game over. auzi, ma?! clar e over!”. but but but, din nou… come on!

atat.

cand aveam vreo 11 ani (adica acum 1000 de ani mai exact) imi faceam verile cu mama si cu tata, cu creatura pe care am ajuns s-o numesc frate, cu verisoare, cu matusi si alte cadre de inrudenii la mare. de obicei cumulat vreo 5 luni din an (da, mergeam si iarna). parintii lucrau amandoi in turism, rezulta: era moca. la 12 ani am mers sa mancam in 2 mai la pescarie. tata a zis sa trecem prin vama. my first time nu a fost gentle deloc. inaintand pe plaja, o prietena de familie imi striga “uite!” si mama ma flancheaza brusc in timp ce eu deja initiasem o rotire de 180. “cand oi fi mai mare, haide.” ce nu trebuia sa vad, am vazut, normal. 10 tipi jucand fotbal in bataia vantului acoperiti doar de nisipul ridicat de joc. adica… doar de asta goi cum ne-a lasat doamne-doamne. desi mai trasesem eu cu ochiu’ la mijlocul cate unui bravo adus din germania si vandut la kg, parca pe viu si … in motion, imaginea era mai … yeaky. and still, cu asta am ramas din “hai in vama”.

tata mi-a zis de Ilanlic, de scopiţi si de Carancicula. de cum mergea prin ‘66 acolo sa agate gagicile nudiste si sa-si arate blugii levi’s evazati adusi din america prin mari eforturi de prieteni. am intrebat de ce nu mergem acolo in vacanta si mi s-a raspuns ca nu e loc de familisti.

de-atunci am ajuns cam in fiecare vara de cateva ori, dar numai la 16-17 cum trebuie. fara parinti, cu bani putini si cu prieteni faini, care vorba aia şad cap langa capul tau in nisip, nimic mai jos.

acum nimic nu sta timpului. vorbeam cu o prietena si mi-a spus “hai la balcic, ca in vama e tiganie.”. e chiar fun, ca la inceput fix cei din balcic au fugit aici. acum se fuge de vreo doi ani de speciile din vama: pancări, roacări, cocalari, goa, dnb kids, emo, skinheads si paris hiltonuri de gen*. un circ.

acu’… ISO-urile astea sociale lucreaza la fiece nivel, right?! ne-au fost impuse sau nu, suntem politically correct sau nu, suntem in trend sau off, e treaba ta, nea costele. la o adica, fiecare alege unde si cum e etichetat. so: roacaru’ nu merge cu mamaia ca e “nespalat si pletos” si tipul cu greutatea mea in aur la gat nu merge cu vama ca e cocalar.

acu’… atunci mergeam cu cortul si dormeam afara, toate pentru a spori viata sexuala a altor persoane. acum ma dor şalele. atunci am stat fara dus 3 zile si facusem câlţi in cap. acum ma spal obsesivo-compulsiv pe cap si sunt “like totally” non-functional fara serul meu de par. atunci faceam posta unirea. acum… tot asta fac. m-am nerdish-incantat in secret cand anul trecut am vazut wireless la expirat. “yey, slashdot!” spunea nerdu’, “lame” spuse vamaiotu’. nu arunc pe jos si strang dupa mine. mai arunc chistoace, dar lucrez sa ma dezvat. nu vreau sa salvez vama veche. eu merg pe principiul castigat ridendo mores. asta si lasă mă, să bem!. cu campanii si atitudini care striga “nu va vrem aici”… stii faza cu “spune de 3 ori si va veni”? ezact asa.

atat. in doua saptamani ma duc in vama. sa beau o bere deja scumpa, sa dansez, sa rad cu prietenii si sa imi amintesc.

*neprecizarea oricarei alte increngaturi prezente este pur accidentala si datorata lipsei de imaginatie a autorului. va rugam nu va sesizati.

to wake up and want to exercise. to eat veggies and never feel like smoking a lucky again. to not want to drink. to wear a skirt. to read at least 1 book a week. to… to not have to wake up and want these from time to time.

it gives me a crushing morning headache.

sa-i spunem mioara. mioara a fost colega mea de banca in generala. top of the class. math wizz kid si, mai mult, good with boys. good with boys la 13 ani se traduce cu nu o incerca o stingere generala la mansarda de fiecare data cand arunca o atentie un el (nu ca altii. let’s not get specific). ca sa fie totul mai traumatizant pentru restul elelor inca la varsta “are they always gonna be this size?!”, mioara arata super.

stii persoana ceea care a fost tot timpul cu zece sutimi inaintea ta la testul de mate, care si atunci cand ai stat doua nopti visand la campii de ecuatii, doua nopti dupa care te trezesti crezand ca esti in clasa si ai ajuns in pijama si pe deasupra vorbesti despre sobieski si romanii la fizica, si atunci dupa ce iei nota maxima (si ea la fel, like dah!) se tine sa se mentioneze ca ea are “plus”. a big fucking special “plus”. si nu pierdea ocazii de a etala public victoriile. asta era mioara.

timp de ani de zile my nemesis. i was austin, she was dr. evil. a pain in the ass. and that pain would soon go away… cadrul: an de generala cu emotii la romana, mai precis teza din ziua respectiva. un mare morcov. timpul sa scot vocabularul, sa imi amintesc de cauzale si serii de comentarii citite si impropriu spus intelese. mioara chill. eu not. revedeam scenariul: mioara nota maxima, eu locul doi, coronita de merisor.

intru in panica. cand intru in panica desenez floricele. nu ajuta, dar macar arata happy foaia. nu mai stiu. pana aici. ea tot scrie. ce scrie atat?! pai eu gata, am scris tot. dar chiar asta e tot. sigur e corect. dar ea inca scrie. pai hai sa vedem. ma misc, ma rasucesc, intorc capul casual la 90grade clockwise. privirea in jos.

pai… stiti cand zice unu’ o gluma buna si tu tocmai te adapi si in secunda urmatoare cel din fata ta are parte de ceva mai proteic decat apa termala de la vichy?! un splash de … de multe chestii. ei, asta facui eu cand ma uitai in foaie. nu ma adapam, dar aveam rezerve. si wembley is up!!!!! they’re doing a standing ovation!! what a game!!! ezact. mioara scria “aceleaşi” fara i. rad timp de o secunda. e teza still.

oh, the avenged years! atat.

lame?! nu cred cel putin nu atunci. vezi, e ca faza cu spiderman si superman. spiderman e superhero right?! superman la fel. but spiderman e om. so…. acest mic detaliu, oricat de insemnificativ, pune in alta lumina toate realizarile lui spidey, dar si pe cele ale lui clark. faptul ca mioara a scris timp de ani de zile (verificat!) “aceleaş” fara sa simta i-ul de la final, fara sa-l prinda din carti, a pus totul in alta lumina. numai pentru mine ce-i drept. nu a schimbat cu nimic rusinea locurilor doi, dar mioara became touchable with a pinch of lamish. tot ce-a urmat: multiple victorii expuse in piata publica si atitudinea mea sincer amuzata. what an Andy Kaufman-ish fun i had.

normal, anii au trecut. mioare or mai fost si sunt. glumele din spatele lor si ele. mioare sunt in presa. mioare la tv. pe net. they’re loud, self-assertive, to envy at a first glance and they’re to stay. eu voi şade si ma voi amuza. paine si circ sa fie.

post inspirat de al lui. mioara din alta increngatura.

finally did it.

questionable review v1.3 (words i am not good with. festivalee i am. humble opinions need not nor claim to be accurate/professional/informed. warning: heavy bitching ahead)

on the first day of Werchter,
dio sent to me
5 pints (from a 1-5 rating system, madames et monsieurs) go to: lenny kravitz, mika, the national, vampire weekend and (as i’ve heard due to my terrible freezy nature) to chemical brothers.
an energizing pint of guiness to the r.e.m. blokes with a “this one goes out to the ones i love, but next time a little more lively, mr stipe” tiny card note.

second day of werchter brought heat. pissed chicks cause pete doherty cancelled (is he still in jail?!). but air traffic’s second performance was more than a cool replacement. a big drunk cheers goes to the monza table. jay-z was also in da house. oh, yes. i do like jay-z! i always have. cause he makes me shake it. and because i respect anyone who opens glastonbury with a kick at noel gallagher. didn’t like hot chip. neil young is too….mmm… i don’t know for me. but i saw him. (the country redneck girl in me speaks now, but golly gee wee ain’t it neat when you see live the people on radio?! ). the verve were very …blasé. but it’s been their “thing” for some time. i loved them anyway. and give it up for mooooobyyy yes, baby, this body is a rockin’!

and then came her. cutely with a pinch of rightfully announced naughtyness in her looks, she stepped to her piano. by the time she rampaged the stage with her dickhead she had me orgasmic. her violent screams…oi … kate nash had me clinging to her golden mini skirt. she told me it was her birthday the next day so i sang happy birthday. others happened to be there. following her i got an almost sinful feeling while shouting (i don’t do singing) on kt’s tunes. but chicks owned the third day of werchter. and and and not to forget the hives and editors (their 1000th concert). sigur rós silenced the beasts on the werchter field. iceland is, i guess, one of those by default cool things. kinda like luckies and morning hair.

alas the 4th day played a non-fun panic at the disco. somehow thought these are gonna be fun to watch. not.
next…mmm… how to describe what the lady wakes in me … i was 10 when a dude told another dude that i had the biggest crush on him. i sobbed the whole night, i woke up and i kicked both their asses in school. one for telling, the other one’s just to show off. mda, that sums up michel, sacrifice and nobody’s wife i guess. i love anouk! and she brought her little kid and the little kid played guitar!!! i love anouk!!!
and then the kooks were out along with ol’ strange fellow jack white and his raconteurs and the kickass kaiser chiefs. (and then came the joke…) these guys put the “oo” in cool ta-ram-ta-dam! oh… i am good.
man, beck rules. he bloody rules. even though later on i shall put him in the “a howdy folks wouldn’t have sunk your mojo, man!” group, he just is… pure fucking music. and he had a sunglasses tan el si tipu’ ala din fotbal, cum l-o chema. deus were good. really good. one of the nicest atmosphere. you could feel they’re home. and mark ronson was a hip performance.

ok, za “i’m now a fan of” group of the festival was: (drum roll…) john butler trio. down under jam, man. the guy was funny, he was chilling on the werchter field. give it a listen.
the “we’ve been listening to you for years, i came for you here and you should’ve done the same, leave the i’m too cool for this attitude home, mates” big no-no group: r.e.m. (love you, but…), beck… and the biggest of them all… the great radiohead. which i will not comment on.

that was werchter. and a lot more. next glastonbury.

This web-finding is just too awesome to be only named awesome and not other unit of language pertaining to the highest degree of comparison. Nevertheless, a collection of anti-nazi political cartoons [via Drawn]. Unfortunate enough, they are in Russian. Nevermind, human monkeys, get a Russian friend. (little Russian dudettes, would you be so kind as to offer free of beer charges translation services during programming tomorrow? )

And let’s remember The Ducktators