Joyeux Noël!

Maffia (post dedicat pentru perioada alegerilor)

Este ingrozitor ce se poate intampla in tara asta. Este jignitor si de o nesimtire incredibila! Cum sa-ti convina sa traiesti aici? Cum sa mai ai incredere in "organele competente" ale statului roman? La ce nivel, mai jos decat cel actual poate ajunge nesimtirea celor care ne conduc tara? Si o alta intrebare, poate la fel de importanta este, pana cand dracu mai stam cu mainile in sani si cu ochii beliti la televizor? Pana cand ne vom amuza de propria noastra distrugere? Ne autodistrugem tara!Vreau ca cineva sa opreasca activitatile josnice, murdare si criminale ale celor la putere. Vreau sa punem capat hotiei pe fata! Vreau sa distrug politicienii, fiecare in parte! Mincinosi si hoti!Suntem chiar atat de invizibili? Chiar atat de minusculi si insignificanti? Oricum, aceasta revolta si ura a mea se intinde si pe alte domenii, unde personajele cu putin mai multa autoritate si poate prea putina scoala fac ce vor din noi. Ne joaca pe degete dupa cum canta pasarea din bucataria lor de lux. Ne exploateaza pana la maxim dupa care ne arunca, mai urat decat un gunoi. Cer multe, dau putin. Si nu ma refer la bani, doar la omenire si bun simt.
M-am saturat sa fiu furata, m-am saturat de cariere construite pe relatii, m-am saturat de patroni si m-am saturat de lingusitori. De increzuti cretin si de "fortele, puterile" lor necontrolata si duse la extrem. Ar trebui chinuiti in adevaratul sens al cuvantului, m-as angaja intr-un astfel de proiect. DA!!!Este un post comunist. Si ce daca.


P.S. am scris de mult aceste balarii, doar ca nu am apucat inca s-o si postezi, asa ca treceti cu vederea ca este perioada Craciunului si ar trebui sa fie un post mai dragut! Urmeaza...

She reads with great concentration. Her eyes rarely
move from the pages of her book—a thick hardback. A
bookstore wrapper hides the title from us. Judging from
her intent expression, the book might contain challenging
subject matter. Far from skimming, she seems to be
biting off and chewing it one line at a time.
On her table is a coffee cup. And an ashtray. Next to
the ashtray, a navy blue baseball cap with a Boston Red
Sox "B." It might be a little too large for her head. A
brown leather shoulder bag rests on the seat next to her.
It bulges as if its contents had been thrown in on the spur
of the moment. She reaches out at regular intervals and
brings the coffee cup to her mouth, but she doesn't
appear to be enjoying the flavour. She drinks because she
has a cup of coffee in front of her: that is her role as a
customer. At odd moments, she puts a cigarette between
her lips and lights it with a plastic lighter. She narrows her
eyes, releases an easy puff of smoke into the air, puts the
cigarette into the ashtray, and then, as if to soothe an
approaching headache, she strokes her temples with her
fingertips.
The music playing at low volume is "Go Away Little
Girl" by Percy Faith and his Orchestra.

Eyes mark the shape of the city.
Through the eyes of a high-flying night bird, we
take in the scene from midair. In our broad sweep, the
city looks like a single gigantic creature—or more like a
single collective entity created by many intertwining
organisms. Countless arteries stretch to the ends of its
elusive body, circulating a continuous supply of fresh
blood cells, sending out new data and collecting the old,
sending out new consumables and collecting the old,
sending out new contradictions and collecting the old. To
the rhythm of its pulsing, all parts of the body flicker and
flare up and squirm. Midnight is approaching, and while
the peak of activity has passed, the basal metabolism that
maintains life continues undiminished, producing the
basso continuo of the city's moan, a monotonous sound
that neither rises nor falls but is pregnant with
foreboding.
Our line of sight chooses an area of concentrated
brightness and, focusing there, silently descends to it—a
sea of neon colours. They call this place an "amusement
district." The giant digital screens fastened to the sides of
buildings fall silent as midnight approaches, but loudspeakers
on storefronts keep pumping out exaggerated
hip-hop bass lines. A large game centre crammed with
young people; wild electronic sounds; a group of college
students spilling out from a bar; teenage girls with
brilliant bleached hair, healthy legs thrusting out from
microminiskirts; dark-suited men racing across diagonal
crossings for the last trains to the suburbs...

Good Morning (America)

Switch off!

E sanatos sa te deconectezi din cand in cand. Sa uiti de lume si de probleme, de neajunsuri si de complexe. Sa fi doar Tu! Multumit cu ce esti , cum esti. Linistita si fara regrete. Impacata si fara remuscari. Goala, fara sentimente. Mi-ar placea enorm ca atunci cand simt nevoia de aceste momente sa ma urc intr-o masina si sa conduc...departe, doar singura! - sa ajung in locuri parasite, uitate de lume, nemurdarite inca de nesimtirea oamenilor. Mi-ar placea de fapt sa ajung pe plaje pustii. Sa ma plimb, sa alerg, sa stau, sa zambesc. Sa ma apropii de mine intr-un alt fel. Doar cunoscandu-ma pot ajunge sa te inteleg pe tine, cei din lumea reala si rea, perversa si indiferenta. DA! reusesc sa fac asta!-chiar daca nu pe plaja marii, chiar daca nu pe vreun taram indepartat. POT! si fara resurse financiare sa-mi creezi acest scurtcircuit placut, aceasta deconectare.


Switch off Honey! It takes a minute but worth a $1 million !