Fuck mobile volume

Ve: "...blabla"
me: "By the way, is T there?"
Ve: "Yes"
me: "Does he know that I am talking to you?"
Ve: "Yes"
me: "Then give him my regards"
Ve: "OK"
T, in the background: unintelligible
Ve: "He returns them"
Fuck, it means he's heard all I have said. And how I have said it. Gonna feel a bit sick now. Life tells there is no use in me hiding. I am so looking forward to the next two years to be over.

Bending-mending

In a time when our love was young and deep, and despite that I had upset and hurt you then, I have taken you to see a film we both agreed afterwards was good. Now I own the film and you are with someone else.

I hate the cold wet leaves, their sparkling yellow from the distance of my window, all the way down. My spirit is not there yet. Wherever there is... I will admit I am not completely to terms with myself.

Elogy to eulogy

I suck at saying goodbye. That is a fact. I have been sucking at this for almost one year now. I am not done chewing that yet. Today it was not only the alternator belt that snapped, broke and was fixed en route from Cioranca to Antwerp. It took you four calls to decide there is nothing left to be said. "At ease, soldier! And don't be a stranger..." I probably need more time. And still, the reverb inside me was like the flat line on the heart monitor: none, no reverb.

It took us ten months to accept what some of the others probably knew the next moment you got on that train. You called now so that we could mutually agree upon the diagnosis: rigor mortis. I concurred.

This end is both a failure and a new beginning. Raising from the turmoil, the question. Will I ever again be able to love as much?

Yesterday's recap

Sometimes I need to scribble my days, like I am loosing an essential little something otherwise. It's a phobia rather than a feeling. So here goes yesterday: laptop wrestling took all day, I need a laptop tamer, late afternoon I have finally succeeded in to install and dial the damn EDGE connection, I swear I need to switch from Windows, borrowed money in a hurry from M and ran home to pay expenses, then landed in dustland, tried to do a little something, somehow managed to undust the bedroom, the rest of the house is heavily engrossed and awaiting Ms. Ionescu, then had a long discussion that tired me pretty much like fights with T used to, then I ran to the rehearsal, where I was late but not that late, there is always someone "later" than me, it's a major trick of survival in the urban jungle; it was almost time to turn back into a pumpkin, read midnight, you Cinderella freaks, when return home, admired the badly parked cars in my neighborhood, I so often need to rant about my neighbours' parking skills and how I have to rove for hours feels like, that I never do it anymore, rant, not rove. Midnight daily chores performed, I decide to take advantage of the running hot water, see the episode early in the morning the same day, and soaked like crazy. Pondered about stardom and being single, as separate issues. At this point I turned on the beast, read laptop, thinking I might post about the return to communist past, read my visit to Chisinau, or about Gramos' meme, but actually ended sleeping under the warmth of the processor roar with the music and lights on. And that was my day. Forgot to manage the oddity of having naked windows. And about 100 observation posts across at close enough range.

Yesterday

A day that has passed is way sadder than a day still to come. It was his birthday. Her birthday. Another birthday. A funeral cortege was killed by a truck. Ten kids were left without their parents. I saw it on the news. That is why I don't do funerals. I don't do weddings either. Unless I am blackmailed.

For the third time I have tried finding Rondo Capricioso at the bookshop. They had three more copies, but were unable to locate them. I am probably the last person here who has not read the book.

I am trying. I have my questions, I have my words. It's not a sollution. Dismiss poetry.

Fighting the demons

Off to the seaside. Don't forget to pack the fur coat!

I don't remember how many years have been since my accident, but it was this time of the year. My never mailed postcard should've read: "I blamed a horse for my wreckless speeding". My advice for the kids, sleep before you drive not during, and don't speed and turn right.

Nobody was hurt during the production, but my radiator and the surrounding area. But that is just a coincidence. The no hurt, that is.

My Sziget, the French story

OK, I bet you thought I forgot all about this Sziget thing I had promised.

Today's story is about the French connection. Yes, the French have been the most irritating island nation. With the notable exceptions, mostly visible on stage. I am talking about the theater stage and the dance stage. I have already mentioned the brilliant performances by Transe Express/Les rois faignants and Accrorap/Les corps etrangers. Today I am going to focus on Emilie Simon, and her Vegetal concert. Hardly any greenery on stage, but it was so refreshing nevertheless. I mean check her videos on youtube, in particular this one, brought to my attention by T sometime ago.

Emilie is this "little girl with a big personality". She kept the audience on the hill for her one hour and a half, plus two real encores, very rare for the festival, where everything has to fit the time table. Not only that the people weren't going anywhere in spite of the drizzle, but I could hear numerous love declarations and marriage proposals being shouted from the fan cohorts in between the songs. To which Emilie shyly replied only "I love you too", thus provoking emotional havoc.

She was joined on stage by Mr Magic Man and Mr Give Me Anything I'll Give You Rhythm (yes, even water!). Their real names are Markus Dravst and Simon Edwards , but much to my annoyance, I have no clue as to who is who. Help needed and appreciated.

Airport born

Happily reporting from Otopeni, on my way to the island of music. It's been quite a hectic endeavor so far. managed to do pretty much everything on my to do list, the rest will be fixed by a couple of calls later. I don't have Vava's cam, I have Mazi's. I don't have batteries, so we'll see about the pictures. Last time the camera played tricks on me because of the batteries.

So, I woke up, not feeling rested nor 100% up to it, missing a piece of luggage, now I have a monster one. It contains my tent, mattress and sleeping bag, among other personal items under the same "roof". So I started to score and check one thing after the other on my list, and one moment I was thinking I cannot possibly make it, the other, oh yeah sure I will. I included here the daily internet procrastination, no coffee mug this time.

The house was left devastated... not a nice place to return as such, but I will have to do something about that as I am due another interview on Sunday. At home this time, the other was in the office.

A last word of warning, never say never. Just when I was releasing a sigh "Finally I am on my way to the airport, and I should make it in time", somebody's car had a minor explosion. For a couple of seconds I saw myself running to railway station... Again, not really up to it.

Low cost is low cost, a check-in was a min-nightmare, but I am really on my way to the departure gate, so what can stop me now? I don't remember where my anti-fever pills are, so maybe a sneaky virus. Hope not.

Finally, within the entire madness, T has sent the sweetest sms "Drive carefully". Well, I didn't have to. I miss you, and maybe my flight too if I linger long enough.

Zbyes!

The reluctant orange and the effects of hardcore on blades

No, I have not left for work, where thrilling accounting and reporting awaits. Instead, following my phone conversation with T, I tried to squeeze an orange without the blades on. It was not working too well and all I could think was why is it so reluctant? Luckily the juice, yes there was some juice, did not get into the electric part of the squeezer. Next, after mounting the blades, I invented a method to squeeze sour cherries, or mere cherries for that matter, without the prior removing of their core. No doubt, should I persevere in these practices, I will need a new squeezer shortly.

800

You think it's the three little piggies? Nope! I thought they were the three monkeys, you know, the see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil monkeys. But no. It's a football player in a suit, a devastated crack addict singer and everyman. I laughed and laughed. This was at CND.

Then we went to Underlondon. Mazi's got the VIP passes, again, and I am always ready for a piggyback ride. (By the way, according to Wikipedia, it does come from pick a back)

LATER EDIT: the piggy pic is from CND's site and not mine. T has got the working permit.

I am not timely

Yeah, that is one thing of many forms. Like I have been to Rokolectiv last weekend, but only managed my devices now. So, you have a picture. Like I I have been to the movies last night. And I didn't get to tell you what T and Mazi have in common: they would both mercilessly drag me to see Hugh Grant and or Sandra Bullock. No, not last night. We saw something which made us use our tired little brains. Like today, when instead of doing you know what, I atteptempted to put some order in the blogroll. Still, it looks like my house, where everything is on the floor. By comparison, the advantage, by far: this blog does not gather dust. Like, literally.

Final draft

As I am re-writing this, I am overwhelmed with frustration. My new wireless connection caused my computer to freeze and I have lost a very very long post. And some of last's weeks scribbles. Let me try to recompose myself from loss, being late, unable "to win" and the constant feeling I am living "on hold".

As it would be appropriate, this comes in parts.

PART ONE - Things I have been told, your quota of quotes

Show me that you care and call me more often. Like at least once a week. (long distance relation)

You are gorgeous, you are gorgeous. Keep on repeating that. (new best friend)

I don't want to loose you for good. (Can you guess? T...)

I didn't want to lie to you. I hope we can still be friends. (ha-ha! what next?)

I saw you and I thought it's so refreshing to know for a fact that somebody on the set is gay. (fan text messages)

ha-ha hmmmm my own private celebrity... (keep on dreaming! And, yeah, I have been on TV. Twice)

Please don't go to that TV show. He has not even introduced you properly. (I, cannot do that, mum! I'll make sure next time he knows my name or say it myself, but it was quite a surprise, I wasn't really going to say anything on that particular occasion)

Write something! [...] I want to see some two or three posts when I return. And be more explicit, so my mum can understand it. (new best friend upon departure to the seaside)

Write something! [...] you can even be cryptic if you will. (new best friend, exasperated, upon return from the seaside)

PART TWO - Simon's sayings and me getting the blues

You are tall and lean and ambitious. You can win a crowd with your smile. You can walk the walk with your pointed shoes that match your confidence. But I know you are afraid of being alone, as you confided in me. Yes, I think it's a crappy excuse for your action. No, I am not going to make your life easier. We'll see. You didn't do so good on our last conversation.

PART THREE - Joke

I stitched the "Run CD First" on the inside of the toilet lid. Get it?

PART FOUR - Some movies

Seen: Casanova, Paris, je t'aime, The Interpreter,Gia, The Sweetest Thing, The Illusionist
Not seen: Marie Antoinette, Decameron

PART FIVE - Dimitri who?

Thanks to Mazi, I got blessed with a VIP pass slash invitation to Dimitri from Paris, which was great, both getting the invite and the mix. Very groovy eighty. I kept jumping until four in the morning, fell asleep with radio and lights on and lingered in a hangover the size of China the next day. Everything matched only by the amount of running nose, lack of voice and presence of nausea the next day.

PART SIX - No sex

The amazing chit chat I am occasionally entertaining makes for chapters in the opera magna to follow. So, here it is, a conversation with the guy who's been eyeing me the whole night smilingly. After I asked and got his number, it went like this:
Me, redundantly: "So, can I call you?"
Him: "But I am not gay."
Me: "I have not asked if you were gay, I asked if I can call you."
Had no intention to call anyway.

OK, this is pretty much it. Satisfied? Leave a comment. Not satisfied? Email in confidence at wereaditall@monsoux.blogspot.com

Oh, my current music wish list includes:
Citizen Cope - Brother Lee
Mark Ronson - Toxic (cover)
Sophie Hellen Bextor - Catch you
and Gwen Stefani's latest album

As the architect puts it, "You are too commercial!"

I had a dream...

Well, not that kind of dream, not an ideal not met, but a dream that seemed so real I have not even questioned its oddcityness (I could not resist paying tribute to R!'s last two comments). It's all about my house, how I went to sleep last night and everything was alright and I woke up (this is part of the dream) to find my LDC screen (which I don't have) face down on the floor under the desk. As I saw this I was trying to check if there was an earthquake, one of T's obsessions, but the desk tipped and fell on the computer (which is no longer there) and the other huge monitor went off. And after a while it went on. I looked at the computer. It looked back at me, pretty much like a rabbit getting ready to go into the oven, guts half out. I remember thinking how T is going to kill me. The dream also featured me moving the massive furniture around the apartment (not much success, though), an earthquake, a curved window frame to my bedroom that wouldn't close, a baby pigeon (inside the house! - I hate pigeons, they are flying rats, and I hate them for their persistent shitting on everything) and a rush from eating strawberries. Then I went to the bathroom which was magnificent but dark and a flood liability. And that's about it. For a smooth transition, I have also dreamt a beginning for the chapter I am working on my thesis. I kinda do that when I am stressed. Have I told you how I have dreamed a 20 seconds Excel formula on a loop to the end of my dream while in real life I was preparing the annual report?

Partial de-freezing

A partial de-freezing is everything my mother has taught me not to do. Armed with a knife one nervously attacks the ice, making sure one doesn't hurt oneself too bad. One will stop when the freezer's door fits right back in place when closed.

So T has left, it's been two days. I haven't cried (too much), and definitely not in public. But it happens at the movies when I think it really should not be the case. Like Billy Eliot. But I make it a rule not too cry like a girlie. So I rush to the bathroom, where I cry like the bearded girlie I am.

I am dreaming episodes of a sitcom. Every new episode takes you to the next floor, where they are installing yet another computer facility in lobby. You see, the hotel is new and not yet done. The manager is played by this actress, very defensive, whatever you might want when you approach her it's always cause for some sort of hysterical excuse that doesn't have to do with what you're saying.

Also my Sony is dying. The condolence book is open.

De veghe in lanul de madlene

Dear English speaking reader, I apologise for the untranslatable title of today. As my boyfriend is adding a continent to our relation, I am ransacking the house trying to put some order in my life. It's, of course, taking more time than expected. The only standing parallel is a crossbreed between J.D.Salinger's "Catcher in the rye" and Proust's little cookie. Well, my apartment is a field of cookies and I am telling you: some will go away! Don't fret, anybody, I am still married.

Cabbage (Romanian "varza")

Romanian speaking readers are kindly invited to read, laugh and pay attention to this. Brilliant. Touched on one of my (few) obsessions.

T is about to leave far and away. Six months trial.

These are the last days of January. I have not written a line of my thesis. Sometime (when?) in February I am supposed to deliver (what?).

Imminence, without full realization... I might just be an expert in avoidance.

My list of questions is getting longer. Also my to do list. The light at the end of the tunnel is, once again, a train.

Numbers

Clearing the fridge of last year's history...

Bash. Have I seen this?
Elena Baguci on the cover of Tabu. Been to the seaside for the Fat Boy Slim and Tabu's special on bars and clubs.
Horrid postcard. Won't give details. Been on the fridge for less then two weeks now.
Pirates of the Caribbean. Deadman's Chest. Good. Next?
Anim'est teaser and Anim'est. Missed it.
Blue woman hand washing. Acrylic on paper. Trinidad. I was just passing through what appeared to be the Swiss of the Caribbean.
Postcard for AIDS' Day. T's idea of a present card.
Paris. Paris Hilton. Wtf?!?
Achtung Zebra. Yellow on black, like the contrast, can't remember where I picked it up. Read on the back: Vienna. Duh!
The Mission bracelet. See above about Baguci.
Depeche Mode's Touring Angel. Wow.
Heat ticket. Lavelle in Oradea. Not only that.
Solo on line. Vava. National Theater Festival. Cried.
Fat Boy Slim ticket.
Billy Idol ticket.
Fusion presents summer school. Summer party :)
Silent disco. Nicole's birthday. Missed it. The silent disco, not the birthday party.
My pics in Timeout. vava.
L'oubli. Vava.
Laetitia Carton's open letters. Loved them. Missed the exhibition. Hilarious.
Paul van Dyk. Missed it.
Fat Boy Slim. Again. Been there once.
Final Fantasy. VII. Are you sure it's final?
A fost sau n-a fost. I was there.
Placebo. Sure!
Me on the InfoBrit cover. And twenty more people...
Romanian National Museum of Art. I should go there more often.
Joaquin Cortes. Body. Dance. Attitude. I only had a problem with the attitude part.
Buena Vista - The Havana Lounge. Party like you are sixty something.
TmBase after party exclusive. OK, this was late 2005.
Legaturi bolnavicioase. Not sick at all.
Cesaria. Evora. Face to face.

Last kitchen action hero (featuring the pink panda family. No animal was hurt during the production of these pictures with my mobile phone)

ROFL-ing, talking about "ginger people", maybe even a "ginger portal".

The funniest conversation with T.
Him: "Wanna' see my photo in Omagiu?"
Me:"what Omagiu? The one issue were I am published?"
Change of face, drop of jaw.
Me: "Is your thing bigger? Let's see whose is bigger."
Open Omagiu.
Me: "Yeah, your thing is bigger"
Then, in realization: "But do you have your name published?"
His name is not published.

My American friends were rolling on the floor. With laughter. I was sitting on the edge of the kitchen sink, in retrospective it doesn't look like a bright idea, but at the time I think the wine also helped in making this kind of decision.

I have also made friends with their three year old. She is the most adorable little human. The plan was to soak her in detergent as she was sliding all over across the tiles in the kitchen and hallways, having the time of her life.

Tempus fugit not capit musca

I have been watching Drawing Restraint 9. At first I wanted to say "What a pretentious piece of bullshit!", but now, three hours later, I am tempted to be more melow. Some of the imagery is beautiful, but the narrative is inexistent. Finally it is just a collection of ocasionally beautiful shots of a well budgeted performance.

In other news, I am furiously erasing all mass text messages as they arrive on my mobile. By the way, I feel like shit.

Highs and lows

In shorter, sudden alternaces, the term is bipolar. But when you are experiencing them at the same time, is it split personality?

The highs

T is back. And we can resonate. Also we can reason. He can be very sweet.

A new "project" is open. After wondering in the streets, yes, it is wonder, but also wander, in this case, we decided to follow two likely creatures. And we got there. Nice! I liked it.

Drinking

Being smiled at

Being complimented. Twice. In five minutes.

Betting that I would make the bartender smile at me, and winning. The tip occured only later.

The lows

The "summer" hat - I wish I bought that stupid black hat from the future back in London. I would've had to party around the metropolis with a hat on my head and a hat in my bag, but I would have also worn it last night instead of the summer hat from last season. Someone learnedly taught me "You should carry arround a special hat box".

Having something nasty on the skin, I don't know what it is, but the true problem is in the brains, that's for sure.

Drinking and the drinking headacke

Depression