Why are moms, mine included, great

Because they feed your friends. They proofread your books. They want you home for Christmas, even when you plan differently. And the list goes on.

I am back

 

Reading. That is the advantage of traveling, when your plane is late beyond belief. Like the joke with the cops patrolling in pairs, one for reading and one for writing, I had all my bases covered. Five hours late(r) I had finished reading a book. For the time being bloguette007 was in charge with writing, in flesh, but there was little to write right then. Also, already done writing her piece was Anna Gavalda, with her I Wish Someone Were Waiting for Me Somewhere.

They say traveling is an experience, it opens your horizons, might even be a lesson. A simple mind could hastily conclude the more you are spending traveling the better you become, but that doesn't go when it's night an you are stuck in empty cold airport and you have actually finished reading your book.

If airport sleep deprivation was the cherry on the cake, it was a rotten one. But Barcelona, no connection whatsoever to my palatable reading, has pretty much made me feel so alive. If your cherry is rotten throw it away and enjoy the cake.

The best DJ set ever so far in this country

To quote lovely bloguette007 as she was expressing herself post-Chemical Brothers, in the killing October rain and wind, while we were unsuccessfully looking for that elusive thing called taxi. Oh, and called so many times!

Dearest, how could you accuse me publicly I don't know who Andy Fletcher is?! And yes, I enjoyed him better than the brothers. Music-wise.

Internet love (and hate)

I am definitely addicted to love. Being the attention whore that I am, Internet provides me with a fair share of love and affection. Yeap, Internet is thus an addiction in itself. Getting the fix, only makes me scream for more. So, what has lovingly happened over the web to generate the rambling above? Somebody has bought two dot coms for me. The bitch on duty has decided I am a solar kid, and the bleak template you are currently following is not me. Unfortunately, health issues have kept the terrorist on duty and his said mother confined to a bed in the infectious disease hospital. I'd like to take this opportunity to convey my get well wishes. The template is awaiting, bitch :) Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have received the ultimate compliment "extra-witty dude; check out his blogroll too; note to self: unrecommended, if already 1 am, we need to wake up in the morning and the coffee is not strong enough" and the cutest name in Faking life: Monosoux. To set the record straight (ooops, sorry kids, could not find any gay phrase!) I am also Dualsoux, and occasionally Multisoux. What can I say, it comes naturally when you are a Gemini.

To stick with the loving, I am honoured to star in this post and Gramos' fantasies, I suspect in an intellectual kinda way. Guys, I have not forgotten my promise, just not doing well on time.

For the love'n'hate part, my beloved bloguette complains here I am not picking up my phone, but I did. Also an email exchange with Andressa about gay blogroll love not returned. Well, Simon's final say on this matter is "When I don't ask for love it doesn't mean I don't need it, it means I want it without having to ask for it". I know, Simon doesn't seem to be much of a problem solver. I guess I'll just have that program management talk with him, the one I have been postponing, read avoiding.

My Sziget, Razolight, breakthrough, recall and awareness

Razorlight had one of those breakthrough performances at the festival: I remember liking it, but, since I don't have them on my playlist, I cannot hum any of their tunes if you prompted me. Luckily, they resonate to my friends daily life, and hence to mine.

The guy also has a killer body, at least for my taste, and shows it on stage. Now that in communication terms is recall, in capital letters :) As a consumer, I recall something else, something I didn't like. In fact I was really bothered at the time. Photo reporters allowed in front of the stage were evacuated before the white shirt came off. That is OK. But photo reporters front row in the crowd were asked, and no so kindly, by guy in the Razorlight staff not to take pictures later on, during the performance. At some point with some insistence closely resembling anger and threat. That I didn't like. For the Razorlight PR and staff, read the rules about on festival taking picture, and let the guys know before getting on stage and deploying you to horrid tasks amid the unsuspecting fans. And that brings me to awareness. We are all aware we look sometimes look our best, and we don't necessarily look our best when we do our best. That is why many artist restrict and control the time reporters can take pictures during concerts. But that is during their own concerts, not necessarily festivals, where different rules apply . Are you aware of that? Anyway, I don't think the right to one's own image can justify violence of any kind. There are other options to consider, especially during artistic performances.

I hope that doesn't sound like a big fuss. Looking back, I am certainly more relaxed about the whole thing.

I think my next post will be poll-like: "Should hot stars wax their armpits?". Although I think hot guys and body hair sometimes go very well together.

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!

Freudian slips with login in and log out

"You are so straight forward", she said. Me was thinking:"... must be the third sex..."

About a date slash vacation gone wrong "... the morning [noise]...". I hear "the morning service", and think of the morning glory.

Reading about shoes: "...lonely shoes", when in fact they were just "lovely".

Graded odds and no ends just yet

Mom is sending me mms. That is odd, taking into account I don't have a Vodafone mms compatible terminal. Accordingly, to view her picture of Corfu, I had to go online at www.vodafone.ro/mmsaccess. OK, Vodafone guys, this particular part of your webpage doesn't really work accurately. You get a mere seven out of ten, which is rather low for the leading communications operator.

I have been procrastinating on this Bestival post for quite a while. That is ten out of ten for procrastination, and a mediocre eight for the post. Read on.

I am not paying to see today's performances at Bestival, 'cause I am not in high school, not the high school of 15 years ago (Alice Cooper), nor the high school of nowadays (Marylin Manson). However I will be disappointed if I hear they deserve any less then nine out of ten. And I do have reliable sources, you know.

On my list: Yonderboi, Hooverphonic, Morcheeba, Faithless, Kasabian, Reamonn and Pink. Now, I have missed Yonderboi, so no grade there. Hooverphonic gets a ten. And so does the straight (looking?) guy that quasi hit on me, I have spilled a sip of his beer. More precisely he gets three tens: for the friendly conversation, for this name, Attila, the sword of God, and for the funny faces and dance powered by the moderately ethyl induction.

Which brings us to Morcheeba, or what's left of it. Guys, Morcheeba, now, in my books is the perfect example why one should always stick with his CDs and quality sound system. At home. The live performance was pretty lame, so lame I'll grade it the ultimately mediocre eight. The blonde little goose who thinks is one of the vocals, needed a volume up voice. Do they have a spray fro that? I kinda liked the brunette, certainly more lively. I can imagine the band having a conversation before getting on stage: "...and don't you say Budapest! Budapest is next door, in Hungary!" "Really? I always mix that". And then, on stage, ooops, I didn't just say that! For the perfect blunder, a ten out of ten.

I am no Faithless fan, but the show was truly electrifying. Ten plus out of ten. Also, I can testify some people can dance. I am not sure the fireworks were part of the show. Oddly, I am no fan of fireworks either, but these worked OK with the ensemble.

The second day I have missed on Kasabian, because of massage and dinner, so no complaints from me, OK? I only caught the ironic (?) "Enjoy Pink!" at the end of their performance. Reamonn totally stole the show, a ten of ten for many reasons, but most of all for the crowd empathy and winning us over and almost taking us home with them once they were done. And Pink will get a nine. The ups are underlined by bloguette007 here, but the big minus was not working the crowd as she could've.

A ten out of ten goes to the big handsome press guy in a white toptank that left in the middle of Pink's concert, making a statement with both his middle fingers high up in the air.

Another ten for Mazi's perfect hairdays, two days in a row. And for her being oblivious to gorgeous guys around us. That made me once say she looks as lost as a hedgehog freshly out of its hiding blinded by a flash light straight in its eyes. When I shout "Sexy guy!", she goes "Where?", invariably missing the target. Plus I have a wider base, and she has higher standards. She would never consider the like of such as stunningly drunk and cute guy in front of us when Reamonn was on stage. He, on the other hand, literally stopped and stood still when she was rocking on "Super Girl", where he expected to find some of his own gang. She later dismissed the episode as irrelevant and too drunk. Needless to say we all eventually made back to our own residences on our own and by our separate and lonely selves.

A minus four out of ten for the aggressive bodyguard (?! still not sure, as he did not present any credential apart from the hyper inflated biceps and all) who hassled me into showing my ticket to him, once I was inside and past three official security checks. Apart from that, the organizing gets a fair ten out of ten, for I did not have to wait on any cue. Grading of the matter is not 100% accurate, as I have not tried the toilets at all. I am simply not inspired by the wild eco-stuff, at this chapter.

My hips, lower back and feet really hated the concrete. Let's try some grass next year, what do you say? or at least something more friendly, shall we? So, six there. yeah, I am getting old, but so is Alice Cooper. On second though, everybody for that matter.

In other news, but keeping up with the grading.

Found T in Tabu. Ten for the surprise. Two for the ending sentence.

I have also managed to buy the missing Re:publik issues, and subsequently I have been watching Sex and Lucia. I wanted to do that for a long time now and it was worth all the wait.

Next stop: Little Children.

That is that for the moment, I have been slaving for too long at this post and it's not even that great. Take care and see you soon. By the way, the picture is a scorcher in Budapest, from Gerbeaud's terrace and ice cream safety.

I'm gonna get myself happy

Yes, quite an excellent state I have been and still am experiencing. Everybody take notes and mark your calendars! I suspect everything is due for the gutter sooner or later. But... anyways. I have been to George Michael's show last night. Awesome sound and lights, the crowd was so and so and the people did not know the lyrics. But that's OK.

I haven't seen men holding hands with men, like Andressa did, but I saw a huge man to man kiss on the screens. I saw a mature George Michael, who is no longer afraid to be what he is. Gay is happy. And, further more, everything was an artistic and professional accomplishment. Gay was there, but there was so much more. I think this was very much in line with what I want for myself: I am gay, but I am not only that. And that is the philosophy behind my blogging. Keep in mind what I am and do not overlook what I do.

I saw meaning and people having a good time.

The cherry on my cake was the inflated dog blowjob. I love irony.

Bloguette007, thanks for the camera. And I hate you for going to the golden ring. In a good way.

LATER update (?) I have just realized why I am better than George Michael... it took me a long time to be out, but still it took me less than him to come out of the closed. And mine was not a scandal. He is a better performer and he has a better voice, and more money, and ... OK, let's stop here and call it even :D

Finish Pepparkakor!

Dear Swedes,

Please have patience with me and my puns, and thank you for the delicious ginger thins Bloguette007 has bough for me from Ikea.

Yes, I have been amazed to learn that buying biscuits is possible in a furniture store. My surprise is probably comparable only to my own ignorant bliss when I indeed were thinking Ikea was Finish.

Anyways,they are good.

Thank you!
...

The obsession with the block of flats

The hole in the wall
Fire in the hole
Water on the wall

My haiku-ish creation goes to bloguette007 who is currently dealing with the ravages of pipes, plumbers and landlords. Courage, my little one. Time erases everything.

Mobile my ass

It was Sunday, and little bloguette007 took me places. We were due to watch this, which we did, and it's not half as bad as some would want you to think it is.

One thing I did not understand though. At one point, the hero drops his clam shell on a row of stairs and... ooops! it's broken. But really broken. Who buys that? I mean I was just talking to my mum on the phone, must've been nervous, and I dropped my mobile (again!). The mobile hit the cup I bough and gave to my assistant and both fell on the floor. The cup, and the mobile, not the now ex-assistant! The mobile is still fine. For the those wondering, it is a damn Sagem I am trying to ditch. Looks like a Nokia, but is not. OK, I am into princessy things... sometimes. End of story is the cup broke, but the phone did not. Little bloguette007, whose phone I can certify looks like it has actually been through the last three world wars, and I am including here the war on terror of course! said the exact same thing: "I have a similar phone, it's been through worse, it doesn't break like that". I guess it's just a plot of Hollywood producers to counter, for whatever reason, the product placement.

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.

I woke up, I ate kinda post

I stopped counting how many things have happened since I have also stopped taking my blog seriously on a dayly basis. Maybe not that many.

But I am willing to offer a selection.

I am back from Gdansk. Mazi's cam defected on me. I love English false friends.

I am yet to loose another hour. No, really, another hour: to fix all my watches.

I didn't make it between the covers of clubbing mag. Not in a visible manner that is. Try page 30, if you can spot me. No prize to be awarded if you do.

I have been to Rokolectiv 07 last night. First, dinner with the eyelash man. Vegetarian?! Me?! I would've never thought. But the couscous and fried vegetables were good. So was the wine. And the beer. And the gossip. And the auberge a l'espagnol roommates coming in and out.

The yes-but-I-am-not-gay guy made a guest appearance last night. We danced. Somebody whispered into my ear "Kiss him!". I smiled. Haven't called him yet.

I have saved my life with juice a friend left in my fridge. Arina, I love you. It was like this: open fridge door, admire silence and emptyness. Then, hello! what is this? And how has it ended here? It was the juice box. I couldn't remember how it got there, but thirst was stronger than common sense.

Gdansk on the rain was walked by me on the sound of Lhasa, I have doubled the number of bacteria in my ears. Apparently that's what you do if you plug your earphones in. The old city (Stare Miesto) is amazing. Unfortunately you'll have to take my word for it. Or try some of the mobile phone cam pics. I have regreted not having an operable camera. The swans were gulible. They followed me in hope of some crums I did not have. The smartest of them was using the wings as a sail, mocking the rest of the flock, which was conservatively paddling their way on the water.

Je n'ai pas peur
De dire que je t'ai trahi
Par pure paresse
Par pure mélancolie
Qu'entre toi
Et le Diable
J'ai choisi le plus
Confortable
Mais tout cela
N'est pas pourquoi
Je me sens coupable
Mon cher ami

Je n'ai pas peur de dire
Que tu me fais peur
Avec ton espoir
Et ton grand sens
De l'honneur
Tu me donnes envie
De tout détruire
De t'arracher
Le beau sourire
Et meme ca
N'est pas pourquoi
Je me sens coupable
C'est ca le pire

Je me sens coupable
Parce que j'ai l'habitude
C'est la seule chose
Que je peux faire
Avec une certaine
Certitude
C'est rassurant
De penser
Que je suis sûre
De ne pas me tromper
Quand il s'agit
De la question
De ma grande culpabilité

Je n'ai pas peur
De dire que j'ai triché
J'ai mis les plus pures
De mes pensées
Sur le marché
J'ai envie de laisser tomber
Toute cette idée
De "vérité"
Je garderais
Pour me guider
Plaisir et culpabilité

Je me sens coupable
Parce que j'ai l'habitude
C'est la seule chose
Que je peux faire
Avec une certaine
Certitude
C'est rassurant
De penser
Que je suis sûre
De ne pas me tromper
Quand il s'agit
De la question
De ma grande culpabilité

Lhasa, La confession

My day

You do remember all the cinematic cliches with "Honey, I am home" and "How was your day". And since nobody is asking, I am dully going to provide that information. I am currently sim-less. Use my other mobile number. Also without warm water. Unless I get to boil some. Been there, done that. Mentally I am already on my way to Gdansk, but not very eager. I have been slaving to that presentation the whole day, but I feel like a cheater. Not the best mood, I might add, but it's certainly covered in a bloomy springish atmosphere. Spring is all around so I have invited a certain bloguette to a late tour of the city, clowny discussion included.

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!"

Relativity of beauty ("Time destroys everything")

I am not going to tell you anything about the stuck in the eighties and not making a comeback concert the bloguette took me to the other day. It's nice to get out of the house, actually the office. Apparently the performer has stopped doing so for the past three decades.

The bloguette also made it into a habit of taking me places. Apparently people in front of us merely chage the seats and hall.

Yesterday, she bought tickets to Irreversible. Which I still have to return to him on CD.

Again I won't tell you how I have cringed in my seat the whole duration of the movie. How bad everything starts, and how nicely it ends. Or was it the other way around? I am still dizzy and it's not from the hypnotic whirling montage.