Timing

Of course it had to rain today! I hate it when nature plays this ugly trick it does by tuning in to my inner most feelings. Well, I might be exaggerating a little: it’s not actually mirroring them or there’d be a major thunderstorm and the river would probably wash away the bridges and flood the marketplace.

This time it’s strange being a straanger in a foreign town; it usually isn’t, but right now I feel that everybody is constantly looking at me. Although my heart is filled with hope, it’s still somewhat heavy. There’s this weight I’m moving around every time I breathe in and out.

These streets that smiled to me when I got here, alight with happy faces and exquisite decorations, seem to shun me. I walk the narrow bridges and somehow see you walking by, just around the corner. I run towards you and, just as I turn, you’re gone … in the blink of an eye. I’m not even sure you were ever really there. Perhaps it’s all been in my head. The city is so mellow. It’s probably just me. Everyone else seems to be happy. I just wish they’d stop staring at me. I might have even passed you by on the street a couple of times and I probably will again. There’s only so many streets.

Time seems to stand still now, although, for the past days it seemed to travel at the speed of light. I feel like a walking cliché, standing here in a café, killing time before my plane leaves, with my technology, cigarettes and glass of wine. I keep looking at my phone. I don’t even know what I’m looking at it for. Besides, I can’t even say I didn’t know this time would come. It was only logical. A logical conclusion to a very illogical series of decisions and a very unlikely series of events. Still, it doesn’t feel wrong on any level. I suppose I can take some solace in this and in the fact that I knew this was the only acceptable way for events to play out. Any one of the other possible outcomes would have carried with it a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of unwanted complications.

Of course it rains! The seagulls seem to have decided not to take part in this though. They’re relentless, like the river rushing by. There’s a strange pairing of images here with the river, the gulls, the bridges, the market and the rain. It all feels surreal. Images and words. That’s about all I’ve ever had. Images, songs and words to make people see, to make them understand. Yet it’s strange that all I carry with me are feelings – strong, complex emotions that shape me and provide context, purpose, drive … confusion that somehow, by some strange feat, leads to clarity. I could really use a piece of that clarity now. Like the song in my headphones – connected to the phone I keep looking at – says, I got half a mind to scream out-loud.

And then there’s the airports! I find comfort in airports. I feel very much at home when I’m between places. I guess it’s always been about the prospect of “what’s next”. I don’t really know. Trouble is that I can hardly ever forget anything. This, unfortunately, brings on a series of complications. I can still remember the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the look in your eyes and the feel of your embrace. That smile, the way your face lights up in happy surprise and the way your eyes childishly wither when in conflict. Of course they’re all still very near to me, but, if history is any teacher at all, they’ll still be near to me when I’m eighty.

There I go again looking at the phone.

Still there are airports ahead. I should be feeling quite happy. Yet the river is swelling, the bridges are still standing and the market is still abuzz with festive atmosphere. All in all, I guess it’s been a good couple of days. And perhaps the best is yet to come … and, babe won’t, it be fine?

Keep walking. The one I wrote after watching Midnight in Paris

I’ve never been one of those people to go wishing I’d beed born somewhere in the distant past every time I can’t get to grips with what’s happening today. Although I’ve always let my senses wonder to long forgotten sets every time I saw one of those old photos of … how this place used to be, I really wouldn’t want to have lived there. There’s a time and place for everything.

Paris rain

I find the whole approach puerile and simple though deeply sunken in the bourgeois atmosphere of long forgotten days. I find the situations depicted to be petty and the whole typology of character used too commonplace. Still is this such a bad thing? The core issue itself is so puerile and the entire situation is commonplace. We all go through this from time to time. It’s in our nature. We do this often, wishing we could go back, albeit we can’t actually go to those distant places and have an epiphany as our man does. Be it small glimpses of times when color shone brighter, be it places and friends we lost along the way, be it images and sounds that used to comfort us, we all feel the need to rejoice in the certainty of what used to be. It’s only natural, it’s commonplace. It’s easy to frown upon a masterpiece maker’s raw rendering of a very crude idea. It’s a contradiction. How come there’s nothing more to the film? Its the simplicity and obviousness of the situation itself that requires no further complications. That’s the stroke of genius. There’s nothing more to it. Why should there be?!

Keep walking

I think we need to do this. I think it’s a deeply rooted need we have to walk along streets of unknown cities. When I visit a new city, the first thing I do is to walk the streets, I need to breathe in the air and I need to see the faces of the people. I do this not for logistical or strategical purposes, but in order to take the whole scene in for all it’s worth. Most of the people I’ve met have lost the need to keep walking. To tread along new paths. We’re born with this unquenchable desire to absorb every new bit of information that comes our way and, somehow along the way, we start to settle, we start to let mundane stuff bear down on us. When do we lose the thirst?

A friend of mine calls this the spiral. It starts with the tiniest bit of settling for less than you think you ought to and it invariably grows with every other compromise we do in our lives. “I know I could have done better but this will do for now“. “Things are going well; of course there’s this and that and the other one, but it could really be much worse“. No, it couldn’t. It already is worse. You’ve settled for something you know deep inside is not what you really want or need. We’re so fearful about … what exactly? Have we become so jaded that anything will just satisfy us. So why keep on walking? Why walk along the streets at midnight looking for who knows what. Well, that’s … simple and one should try to go way back to their past to find this out. A very smart man once wrote that maturity is to have rediscovered the seriousness one possessed as a child at play. When you’re a child, life is limitless: there are no boundaries or unattainable goals. Why settle for less now? It’s that simple. There is no need to make it more complicated by bringing in the ties and constraints of modern day life. Of course the approach is linear and childish and puerile.

I’ve often been accused of being a childish, spoiled, idealistic brat. Truth is I live in a world where genuine, true emotions and ideal outcomes exist. I’ve been fortunate enough to have this belief hardwired into me in such a manner that, even when it seamed that I was a raging lunatic, I would always manage to see some hint that maybe my beliefs weren’t that far fetched. So what if the search takes a really long time? I mean really: do you actually have a deadline? For instance I do. I have a very concrete and real, physical deadline. That’s precisely why I don’t want to stop chasing my ideals. I don’t have the time to stop for second best … anything. As I’ve said, I know what I want and I won’t ever settle for anything less.

My point is don’t stop looking, don’t stop treading new paths, don’t let norm compromise your ideals, be content to be thought foolish and stupid and keep looking for whatever it is you’re looking for. Eventually, it will come to you.

 

Actio ad distans

I know what I want.

I like women who know what they want. I like their vulnerability when I ask them what, to me, seem self-evident questions. I like the paradigm-shift from the initial surprise of being asked to the moment they tell me. The nakedness of that instance and the warmth of acceptance they feel when they realize that there couldn’t have ever been any wrong answer.

It was never about me wanting to know what they felt: I knew that, or at least felt it. It’s always been about them seeing that I see it deep within. I carefully choose my words. In fact, by the time you read this, I might have re-writen it 43 times. (carefully note that 43 = 42 + 1). It’s never about me having to know. It’s always about me having to be discovered in surprise. I hold delivery in high esteem. Now what the fuck/frak – or whatever derogatory, defulatorry* word you enjoy having lying around – is that all about?  Surely it can’t be that difficult to see!
*(English actually doesn’t have a proper expression for the meaning of the original word: it only provides … well … ‘vent’ vs défouler).

As much as I like to – only amongst friends – joke about myself as the holder of absolute truth, I truly have no ideea. Truth of the matter is that this is just an introspection. I often think that this is the most difficult and most erosionous* thing we could do to ourselves. This is why I tend to give most credit to people who have done it and come out alive. This is why I hold this above all other human endeavours. I guess it’s a bit of “know thyne enemy and know thyself “
*That’s not an actual word 

… it’s the wrong kind of  place to be thinking of you. it the wrong time …

It takes courage to stare down into the face of the abyss, knowing that the abyss always stares back at you; that‘s what he was on about. Truthfully, we all strive to be Nietzscheans*: the apotheosis of all things we hold powerful and true. The apotheosis of … perfection (highly pretentious words). Why? Acceptance!(?) Core. Self validation!(?) That has to be it. Surely: !!! No other value can be higher than ‘I’! None. I am it … bar none.
*That’s also something some dreamer once made up

I know what I want. I know I like women who know who they are and act acordingly.

It’s never been about making them uncover veil after veil. It’s never been about making them fulfill their “true potenttial”. To me, it’s much more subtile than this. It’s about the utter joy in realizing that, after someone made you see in yourself what you only aspired to, made you realize you were what you had always wanted to be, that they had done this selflessly, in spite of feelings we often disassociate with such states.

I find it sad to live in times where such statements are … relevant. When such things have to be spelt out loud. These are self-evident truths. Should it then be possible that love and knowledge of self and kindred selves are not mutually exclusive? Why that’s preposterous!! There must be something else behind it. And if there is … ? Then I cannot … . But if they know that I know that they know … ? Hmmm ….

… i choose my words very carefully …

I find it harsh and cinic that we’ve come to regard genuine love, the one that makes you … well … you, without requiring, without wanting you to trade, the ones who sense the smell of your skin even when you don’t, the ones who don’t keep scores and who don’t expect … as a charade. It’s blatant. It’s abusive, demeaning and irresponsible. It’s …

I rant … I do. It’s a small crime …

Out with the waste …

Nine crimes

O cântare

Am descoperit-o absolut accidental. Simplu si foarte puternic, in acelasi timp.

Beyonce - Halo (accoustic and impromptu)