tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20970979419073783282024-03-05T00:36:07.419-08:00Melanj de sentimenteAm visat ca ti-ai tatuat zambetul ironic in palmele meleMylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-52350586441011506552010-05-30T09:21:00.000-07:002010-05-30T09:21:56.333-07:00La cererea fanilorLa cererea fanilor (de fapt a singurului meu fan care mi-a reprosat ca n-am mai postat nimic pe blog) se naste aceasta postare draguta, verde si calda, ca o frunza de tei in miezul unei zile de vara. Azi cu o zi inainte de implinirea a 20 de ani de la incarnarea (sau reincarnarea) fiintei mele pe aceasta planeta pot spune ca prefer caldura racoritoare a primaverii. Caldura din Bucuresti este calda, uscata si sufocanta chiar si atunci cand e umeda. O sa devin in scurt timp ca un pui de potarniche fugind dupa putina umbra si racoare.(aici imi imaginez puii de potarniche fugind prin iarba cu o viteza ametitoare, ca un roi de albine terestru (presupunand ca pasarile astea micute pe care mi le imaginez eu sunt pui de potarniche)).<br />
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Si tot la cererea publicului: Prietenul meu e inalt. (va urma)Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-30093388202560998072010-04-25T13:59:00.000-07:002010-04-25T13:59:56.172-07:00In regula.Nu mi-e prea clar de ce scriu asta acum. Nu ma simt purtata de nici o forta supranaturala, asa ca nu va fi loc de nici o dezvaluire macabra sau magica. Nu am nici un fel de sentimente. Consider ca sunt indragostita dar despre asta nu as scrie aici. De ce? Pentru ca nu as vrea sa impart cu nimeni nici macar gandurile mele despre el si despre asta sau senzatiile trecatoare. Nu vreau sa impart nimic din ce are legatura cu el.(si totusi ceva ceva am zis; simt cum se deschide spre mine un cerc vicios si ma cuprinde; ce ne e si cu cercurile astea). Asa ca indragosteala nu se pune la sentimente. Nu simt furie, depresie, axietate. Mai ales anxietatea si-a luat liber in seara asta si asta imi da senzatia stupida ca lucrurile vor fi in regula.<br />
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Lucrurile nu vor fi in regula. Punct.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-84883115592379211992010-03-09T10:26:00.000-08:002010-03-09T10:35:56.396-08:00NeputintaNeputinta imi curge prin artere si vene ca o boala grea. O simt cum pleaca din mine si cum se intoarce tot in mine. O simt, de parca as fi pe moarte si n-as mai putea simti altceva. Nu vreau sa fac nimic. Absolut nimic. Vreau doar sa stau si s-o contemplez. Sa fac scenarii, sa-mi imaginez mii de esecuri, de erori, de dureri, rani si tradari. Vreau sa ma doara din ce in ce mai tare. Vreau sa merg dincolo de limita asta absurda. Vreau sa sufar profund, sa mi se cutremure sufletul, spiritul, aura de durere. Vreau sa ma opresc in loc si sa privesc la oamenii care merg mai departe. Inutila. Inutila este existenta mea ca o relicva a ceva ce ar fi putut fi dar nu e. Inutil e totul. Inutila e zapada, inutil e frigul. Inutila e respiratia.<br /><br />Astept ceva autentic. Astept sa simt ceva si nu simt nimic in afara de scarba, sictir, ura, neputinta si inutilitate. Nu simt nimic in afara mea. Nu simt nimic in afara de mine.<br /><br />Imi urasc eul in cel mai profund, metafizic si transcendent mod. Si asta numai ca sa folosesc cuvinte mari. Ca sa-mi demonstrez ca nu e vina cuvintelor. Ca nu e vina mea.<br /><br />BA E VINA TA! FIINTA INUTILA SI DE NIMIC! ESTI CEA MAI ORIBILA FIINTA!Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-22532445439441805532010-02-20T11:28:00.000-08:002010-02-20T11:37:27.358-08:00More notes to......Arunca-te in betia de culori a lumii. Sinucide-te cu fiecare sunet care zgaraie dureros de abrupt linistea rece a vietii tale. Adulmeca fiecare pericol! Evita-l! Ucide-l! Delireaza! Incearca sa resuscitezi toate momentele alea stupid de sentimentale in care te-ai simtit singur, ranit, lovit, ucis, sangerand, plangand, injurand, ucigand. Loveste! Loveste tot ce te inconjoara! Raneste-i! Raneste-i! Fa-i sa sufere si bucura-te de suferinta lor. Zambeste acru cand iti cer mila. Zambeste-le si spune-le ca nu mai ai. Ca reducerile s-au terminat. Spune-le ca nu mai am pantofi marimea lor si iti e prea lene, sictir, sila de ei ca sa le cauti marimea. Spune-le ca ii urasti. <br /><br />Sa nu mai speri niciodata!Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-88475425810712075742010-01-28T12:51:00.000-08:002010-01-28T12:59:53.119-08:00Din seria celor ce aş putea (unele nu se vor întâmpla)Aş putea să nu îmi mai pun întrebări.<br />Aş putea să fac ocolul Pământului începând de mâine.<br />Aş putea să las totul în urmă şi să nu mă mai întorc aici.<br />Aş putea să mă pierd în infinitul ochilor tăi şi să uit de mine.<br />Aş putea să dansez trei zile fără oprire.<br />Aş putea să mă dezintegrez ca o particula bolnavă de propria sa existentă.<br /><br />Întotdeauna mi-a fost ciudă pe presimţirile mele care s-au dovedit a fi întemeiate. Gânduri înnegrite de degete afumate care şi-au lăsat umbra pe ele.<br /><br />În rest nimic.<br />Absolut nimic.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-37821624184133833022010-01-10T07:40:00.000-08:002010-01-10T07:46:31.087-08:00Comert de Terbellius Alexandru- Vreau sa fie frati! Spuse Jaques cu autoritate.<br />- Domnule, va sfatuiesc sa luati mai bine pe acestia trei, nu sunt frati dar va asigur ca au exact acelasi efect. Raspunse vanzatorul.<br />Jaques ezita putin dar in final accepta oferta propusa de vanzator.<br />Puse totul intr-o punga de hartie si pleca.<br />In drum spre casa vazu victimele razboiului incepand sa se umfle pe strazi.<br />I se paru la un moment dat ca il vazu pe tatal sau printre cadavre.<br />Era imposibil insa. Tatal sau nu se nascuse inca...cel putin nu in mod normal.<br />Jaques disparu...Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-16503549711483713092010-01-10T07:37:00.001-08:002010-01-10T07:55:08.679-08:00Joi de Terbellius AlexandruMereu era la fel. Mereu, cand se nastea cineva sau cand o noua vietate lua nastere, era mare sarbatoare.<br />UzineleNu si Joi... erau inchise, cetatenii ieseau in strada, bucuria era in toi.<br />Nu si Joi...<br />In fiecare Joi cetatenii stateau in case, toti purtau cel putin doua din cele cinci sutane, apa rasarea iar.<br />Apa ii tinea in casa pe cetateni.<br />Joia nu venea posta, joia nu latrau cainii. Pe strazi era o liniste mai ceva decat in marile temple din sudul Rusiei.<br />Joia nu se naste nimeni...Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-32416979694764378552010-01-10T04:40:00.000-08:002010-01-10T04:53:40.801-08:00Ce bine ca esti, ce mirare ca sunt!Mi-e drag soarele care intra pe fereastra cand eu ma tolanesc langa tine si sper ca asa adormit cum esti, o sa ma simti si-o sa intinzi o mana peste mine ca sa ma imbratisezi. Iar tu intotdeauna faci asta.<br /><br />Ce bine ca esti, ce mirare ca sunt!Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-42864308595976199332009-12-25T09:28:00.000-08:002009-12-25T09:46:21.824-08:00Un cerc vicios<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDo-ruuEMl0tyNHOpDIQsn0VwzN0uDAFV4GD_oZXXAYQp2Hw0Rnr1K5gpDLkn4K9_zStFqFwNrFD-8L1sOEQGOooqmdDE8VL52UmKggRDqJteTrri-vPCOM-xhpmKPWxWscIvzcj_FuE/s1600-h/cerc.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDo-ruuEMl0tyNHOpDIQsn0VwzN0uDAFV4GD_oZXXAYQp2Hw0Rnr1K5gpDLkn4K9_zStFqFwNrFD-8L1sOEQGOooqmdDE8VL52UmKggRDqJteTrri-vPCOM-xhpmKPWxWscIvzcj_FuE/s320/cerc.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419231531548319202" border="0" /></a><br />Totul este un cerc vicios. Mai ales acasa.<br /><br />Atat.<br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/cpu/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/cpu/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /><br />THE ENDMylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-67254264725650018612009-12-23T13:41:00.000-08:002010-01-10T07:54:09.242-08:00Mijlocul de Alexandru Terbellius<span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">Era o zi innourata iar micul Demeter kirbici nu ajunsese inca acasa.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style=""><br /><br />Era marti, o zi obisnuita de iarna in care multi oameni erau deja dezactivati sau, in cel mai bun caz, posedati de catre cei inca in functiune.<br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">Pe alocuri mai cadeau cate un fulg doi de nea sau o sticla aruncata de la etajele superioare de catre vreun alcoolic cu probleme sociale</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">.<br /><br />Totul era normal. Nimic nu parea sa diferentieze aceasta zi de celelalte zile. karma era stabila...</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">.</span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">Desi micul Demeter tragea cat putea de rotile scaunului cu rotile, acesta nu se misca si pace. Iar s-a blocat in mocirla. Iar vin cei cinci.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style=""><br /><br />Ah, da! totul era normal...<br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" class="usertext" ><span style="color: rgb(64, 0, 0);"><span style="">THE END</span></span></span>Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-39862478024429181852009-10-22T22:35:00.000-07:002009-10-22T22:38:01.418-07:0008:33Între timp, până m-am apucat eu să scriu s-a făcut 8:36 dar mi s-a părut mie că 8:33 sună mai bine.<br />Azi e ziua Luizei. 20.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-71618373302652338352009-09-30T04:04:00.000-07:002009-09-30T06:18:19.325-07:00ÎnainteÎnainte ca Bucureştiul să se apropie atât de mult de mine încât să mă atingă cu degetele lui translucide, să pună la grea încercare bagajul meu de vise, aşteptări şi dorinţe, înainte ca totul să se întample. Înainte de vremea marilor dezamăgiri voi îmbrăţişa cu entuziasm Bucureştiul, până când nu va mai rămâne nimic din imaginea lui nefastă şi-l voi teleporta într-un illo tempore al fiintei mele.<br /><br />Tot înainte!Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-19011094352923544972009-08-22T11:38:00.000-07:002009-08-22T11:59:32.512-07:00Nepasarea bat-o vina<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXSnLC8FzmEO0GrAOLYftjyUvOA7k5YPdqMonVRRssOTJXzVyPDXCNivKdD34JVGBoXpAZvVVlH_VuueJ-miDG4fqZzyNYWBseSql-Q2aBay1JQR9IQDz6w6_QJ9yg-e52MGAkewQXgo/s1600-h/IMG_4950.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 324px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXSnLC8FzmEO0GrAOLYftjyUvOA7k5YPdqMonVRRssOTJXzVyPDXCNivKdD34JVGBoXpAZvVVlH_VuueJ-miDG4fqZzyNYWBseSql-Q2aBay1JQR9IQDz6w6_QJ9yg-e52MGAkewQXgo/s320/IMG_4950.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372863834575313810" border="0" /></a><br />Ce se intampla atunci cand in loc sa te astept pe tine, astept sa apara cineva mai bun ca tine? Ce se intampla atunci cand in loc sa vreau sa te fac sa razi, vreau sa rad eu, eu si numai eu? Vreau sa rad de fata cu tine si cu altii. Vreau sa rad in fata lumii intregi. Numai ca sa vezi ca daca tie nu-ti pasa, nici mie nu-mi pasa. Asa se iubesc oamenii, prin nepasare. Asa te iubesc. Si nu-mi pasaMylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-46789039392177492962009-08-14T04:23:00.000-07:002009-08-14T04:31:02.713-07:00DelirAu trecut respiratiile ca un vis. 19 ani de respiratie pe i-am trait intr-o clipa.<br /><br />Mica. Atat de mica.<br /><br />Mare. Atat de mare. De aici pana la mine, atat de mare.<br /><br />Eu, eu, eu. Eu sunt eu, si stiu cine sunt eu. Primul moment in care simt ca stiu cine sunt eu. Sunt mica, atat de mica. Sunt mare, atat de mare.<br /><br />Sufletul meu delieaza.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-32611686976029680212009-08-14T03:55:00.000-07:002009-08-14T04:01:38.373-07:00La courbe de tes yeux Paul Eluard<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1QdEC_HHp9YMmeqvBQtXhKzojG9YhGZvkg7zGT8HS7nE4FMxGzH5XFVR8svheXPHF_JKwR_BCkDz4txsi3kJrRneipMg-qQlx_zv4rq4Bu24Y2mveQ_p5VXvRi6l-NLKXGtwTAcKBxk/s1600-h/url.htm"><br /></a><p><span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Un rond de danse et de douceur,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j'ai vécu</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">C'est que tes yeux ne m'ont pas toujours vu.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1QdEC_HHp9YMmeqvBQtXhKzojG9YhGZvkg7zGT8HS7nE4FMxGzH5XFVR8svheXPHF_JKwR_BCkDz4txsi3kJrRneipMg-qQlx_zv4rq4Bu24Y2mveQ_p5VXvRi6l-NLKXGtwTAcKBxk/s1600-h/url.htm"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1QdEC_HHp9YMmeqvBQtXhKzojG9YhGZvkg7zGT8HS7nE4FMxGzH5XFVR8svheXPHF_JKwR_BCkDz4txsi3kJrRneipMg-qQlx_zv4rq4Bu24Y2mveQ_p5VXvRi6l-NLKXGtwTAcKBxk/s320/url.htm" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369772555748012626" border="0" /></a></p> <p><br /> <br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Roseaux du vent, sourires parfumés,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Ailes couvrant le monde de lumière,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Bateaux chargés du ciel et de la mer,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Chasseurs des bruits et sources des couleurs,</span><br /> <br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Parfums éclos d'une couvée d'aurores</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Qui gît toujours sur la paille des astres,</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Comme le jour dépend de l'innocence</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Le monde entier dépend de tes yeux purs</span><br /> <span style="font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;font-size:100%;">Et tout mon sang coule dans leurs regards.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1QdEC_HHp9YMmeqvBQtXhKzojG9YhGZvkg7zGT8HS7nE4FMxGzH5XFVR8svheXPHF_JKwR_BCkDz4txsi3kJrRneipMg-qQlx_zv4rq4Bu24Y2mveQ_p5VXvRi6l-NLKXGtwTAcKBxk/s1600-h/url.htm"><br /></a></p>Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-87567494307757771352009-05-03T09:25:00.000-07:002009-05-03T09:28:32.367-07:00PlouaPloua, ploua, ploua si-mi vine sa sterg tot ce am scris pana acum. Daca pagina asta de blog s-ar face hartie as face din ea o mingie de fotbal pentru papusi. Ploua, ploua, ploua si imi place. Imi place mirosul de verde crud al primaverii. Imi place, si nu-mi mai place nimic altceva. Totul e in zadar.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-39186799879799867962009-05-02T11:59:00.000-07:002009-05-02T12:22:42.026-07:00J'aime ton âme"J'aime ton âme qui m'attend toujours autour de ton suris. J'aime ton âme qui rit avec le mien. Il n'existe pas "pouquoi tu l'aime?". C'est une chose naturelle. Je ne pense jamais a toi. Je ne t'aime pas. "<br /><br />Aurelie a ecrit ca dans son journal, le 23 decembre 2009. Vous allez penser: "Mais ce n'est pas encore decembre!" Pas du probleme. Aurelie ne sais pas qu'elle a ecrit ca. Apres lire un fois en voix base le petit fragment, notre aime eroine vais alle......alle ..... mais comme est-ce que vous attend que je sais qu'elle vais faire? On vais demander. Mais on doit attendre just ce que decembre.<br /><br />02 may 2009<br /><br />Aujourd'hui j'ai decide. Je vais ecrire chaque jour dans mon journal. Il n'importe pas ce que je vais ecrire.Il n'importe pas s'il s'agite de l'ecole ou de mes amis. Je vais ecrire tout. Tout ce qu'il passe.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-82126457551278176162009-04-28T12:47:00.000-07:002009-05-02T00:40:50.378-07:00Eu, numai si numai eu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRw7LmWPAGPwz3DiNMenKvRh54y2zYUiuV8GEMtqiZb5aSCMt_taj4qcwvHE23Xgsr9teZ1rmv4BBY4qjO_4htTNwSr8llPeq_1AZD2xX4d94YvHr4kb_TnBsh0S1b5ktDj4MCIsIDBk/s1600-h/PX001222_16_16~The-Kiss-Posters.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRw7LmWPAGPwz3DiNMenKvRh54y2zYUiuV8GEMtqiZb5aSCMt_taj4qcwvHE23Xgsr9teZ1rmv4BBY4qjO_4htTNwSr8llPeq_1AZD2xX4d94YvHr4kb_TnBsh0S1b5ktDj4MCIsIDBk/s320/PX001222_16_16~The-Kiss-Posters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329836453875935090" border="0" /></a><br />Vrei sa fi al meu? Cata inutilitate se afla in gandurile astea, in remuscarile mele si in frica. Cat de inutile sunt toate, cat de mult le vreau. Sa nu-mi pese de mine, de tine, de maine. Scurt si cuprinzator. Sau poate nu cuprind nimic gandurile astea. Poate nu te cuprind nici pe tine, nu ma cuprind nici pe mine, nu cuprind pe nimeni pentru ca nu am brate. Gandurile mele nu mai au brate. Au bratele amputate. Eu le-am taiat cu mana mea, mana aia pe care am pierdut-o ieri. Mana nimanui. Mana mea in parul tau. Mana aia care a stat pe volan asteptand ca tu sa cobori din masina. Gandurile alea care se intrebau de ce nu cobori mai repede. Afurisite ganduri.<br /><br />Ma intreb daca ai intelege.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-10179914620083530612009-04-06T11:07:00.000-07:002009-05-02T00:40:50.378-07:00Eu, Tu, Poate noi.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvceDwG8XWY1gRaAFdoUwLHfUrnmdKlaIaorJpxOadBvN7hgU2VQL7r7eKehO_CVWBVcFnygM6JVLj0QFYjDHp1MyLp_sVGXFtm7cvRnSUwSo1FgHAcew2Cfe5c8CUNh-HjuJBBxXFV6k/s1600-h/dream2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvceDwG8XWY1gRaAFdoUwLHfUrnmdKlaIaorJpxOadBvN7hgU2VQL7r7eKehO_CVWBVcFnygM6JVLj0QFYjDHp1MyLp_sVGXFtm7cvRnSUwSo1FgHAcew2Cfe5c8CUNh-HjuJBBxXFV6k/s320/dream2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321644609781061138" border="0" /></a><br />Cand mi-am lipit buzele de pielea ta moale am crezut ca o sa-mi pierd mintile. Dar nu mi le-am pierdut. Chiar daca le-as fi pierdut sunt aproape sigura ca mi le-ai fi dat inapoi cu vreo fraza rece, obosita, impinsa cu forta printre dintii tai.<br /><br />Ale tale, ale tale sunt toate, numai eu nu sunt a ta, si tu nu esti al meu.<br /><br />"Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.<br />Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!<br />Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air<br />More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,<br />When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.<br />Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,<br />Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;<br />My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,<br />My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.<br />Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,<br />The rest I'd give to be to you translated.<br />O, teach me how you look, and with what art<br />You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart."<img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/cpu/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><br /><br />Si la urma urmei nici macar nu te iubesc. Dar cat as vrea sa ma iubesti.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-17209448417856970522009-02-19T05:02:00.000-08:002009-05-02T00:40:50.378-07:00Isterie de primavara<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_iFxzVECmt-iU5AyFg5juCOnNRgWmGqgLfJdgcpIq88ZUbJ2PPV6gQcvbTpwChirOErhg_7rRTsRzLIUfoP-NxHqHQJoNQYGkkwapSB_7XYcLPGu_m_h9lJdPnmJIKlAIHzTu9QU9gA/s1600-h/DSC05379.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_iFxzVECmt-iU5AyFg5juCOnNRgWmGqgLfJdgcpIq88ZUbJ2PPV6gQcvbTpwChirOErhg_7rRTsRzLIUfoP-NxHqHQJoNQYGkkwapSB_7XYcLPGu_m_h9lJdPnmJIKlAIHzTu9QU9gA/s320/DSC05379.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304494609778225570" border="0" /></a><br />Te intreb ce faci daca intr-o zi te trezesti de dimineata si-ti dai seama ca ai gresit?! Ca ai ratat tot. Ce faci atunci? Te dai cu capul de pereti?! Ce faci?! Ce faci?! Ce faci?! Nimic. Nimic. Nimic. Nu trebuie sa faci nimic. Si totusi ce faci?!Ce fac?! Ce fac?! Ce fac?! Ce fac daca ma trezesc intr-o dimineata si imi dau seama ca am gresit?! Dar daca nu am gresit?! Atunci ce fac?!Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-3835832077617413422009-02-16T11:54:00.000-08:002009-05-02T00:40:50.378-07:00Notes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHMl-XUwUuU54VvydrCxjjTvAD-o2NCWmgICwyVYe7XWRnDK4vmRT0tXa5ROmoO-LDiYstHKKBa9J7lZY4dhyphenhyphenHHjU5xtIPbGdkI2xuXg1235vI4FvCn_e5bU6rGo_7qZ9_51EM_bJxGI/s1600-h/hug.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHMl-XUwUuU54VvydrCxjjTvAD-o2NCWmgICwyVYe7XWRnDK4vmRT0tXa5ROmoO-LDiYstHKKBa9J7lZY4dhyphenhyphenHHjU5xtIPbGdkI2xuXg1235vI4FvCn_e5bU6rGo_7qZ9_51EM_bJxGI/s320/hug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303487507116816290" border="0" /></a><br />Note to myself: I will change the world! I will rule the world! I will be the world! I will live in this world and beyond this world! I will!<br /><br />PS: I love you like the spring flowers love those tiny water drops on them, in the morning.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-19479192259652465592008-11-20T13:24:00.000-08:002009-05-02T00:40:50.379-07:00AutumnI always know when autumn comes by the bitter-sweet smell of black grapes, hanging, full of themselves, waiting to invade a mouth eager to taste them. I always know when autumn comes by the hot splinters of cold that I feel in my fingers, and the rustle of red-green-yellow leaves. It sounds like snow and smells like cold, it sounds like plastic bags and smells like apples.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-23158474264613973112008-11-20T13:23:00.000-08:002009-05-02T00:40:50.379-07:00Bed Time Story<span class="push"> </span> I woke up, gazed at the ceiling, just wondering weather to stay in bed a little more or not. Then I woke up. I slowly moved to the door, one feet after another. That's when I felt fingers moving along the inside of my skin. That was the first time I realized something was ... different.<br /><span class="push"> </span><br /><span class="push"> </span>It is not easy to watch the ones around you and be them every second of you life. Some would say that's like wasting your life but since my life means eternity and I also invented the ones who stand this, there is no reason to believe them.<br /><span class="push"> </span><br /><span class="push"> </span>Can you see that wardrobe in your room? I bet that you are long past monster stories...but what if I told you that I invented a monster that is hiding inside. Now you are just going to check, telling yourself I made it all up. You are opening the door, trying to act as natural as possible. Do you want to trick the monster? Such a thing is not possible. Because you are the monster now.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-60459536044144541472008-10-26T12:04:00.000-07:002009-05-02T00:40:50.379-07:00Bal Bal Bal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7I2gl6LbDy6Zv7-Ye1hTRruXwXc3qKB414Nv47p8Ylt6p9f3lx2HhIi0sdSQkLH2YpqvROtefriHTtLCLTU5hUpN9et44-Mv1npW6VrjeTwMEcNc4cBO-yENinCOZg3yivy8RXx3Hcs/s1600-h/P1040646.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd7I2gl6LbDy6Zv7-Ye1hTRruXwXc3qKB414Nv47p8Ylt6p9f3lx2HhIi0sdSQkLH2YpqvROtefriHTtLCLTU5hUpN9et44-Mv1npW6VrjeTwMEcNc4cBO-yENinCOZg3yivy8RXx3Hcs/s320/P1040646.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261544716694434802" border="0" /></a><br />Dupa o lunga si consistenta pauza de blogareala mi-am luat inima in dinti, am muscat puternic din ea, si-am hotarat sa scriu despre BAL. Un bal nu, cu printi si printese cu sange albastru ci Balul Bobocilor de la Colegiul National Mircea Cel Batran. Un bal fara rochii lungi, valuri de crinolina, corsete menite sa-si sufoce purtatoarele, un bal cu tocuri de 9 centimetrii, fuste scurte, rochii mulate pe corp, decolteuri proeminente.<br />Balul a insemnat debutul in societatea liceului, in jungla, a boboceilor de rata, de gasca, unii boboci de lei sau taurasi. Unii mai populari altii mai incognito au asteptat sa vada care o fi cea mai frumoasa bobocica cu ai ei bobocel cel mai pufos. Daca as fi avut mai multa minte mi-as fi amintit numele lor, doar ca nu ma prea ajuta memoria.<br />Dupa incoronare, multimea de mircisti s-a lasat in voia muzicii in asteptarea celebrilor Simplu, care nu vor sa para de loc simplii si ma intreb daca chiar au vrut sa creeze aceasta antiteza sau a fost doar o lipsa de inspiratie care s-a dovedit a parea originala.<br />Toate ca toate, muzica s-a propagat din difuzaoare iar tenesii mei cu sclipici s-au lasat in voia undelor.<br /><br />Daca acest articol pare off topic e doar o parere. Scopul blogului este o incercare de folosire a limbajului pentru a reda sentimente si trairi.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2097097941907378328.post-40450209987824197042008-10-18T13:33:00.000-07:002009-05-02T00:40:50.379-07:00TrebuiaTrebuia sa scriu despre durere. Trebuia sa scriu despre ranile sufletului meu. Trebuia...dar nu mai trebuie. Trebuia sa fiu eu, trebuiau sa fie plete in vant dar nu mai sunt. Imi era frica de realizarea lor si nu am spus asta nimanui, pentru ca nu le mai visam de mult. Trebuia sa ma simt eliberata cand am aflat ca era normal, ca simturile mele nu m-au inselat. Nu trebuia sa dau apa la soricei, pentru ca nu era continuarea buna, dar am dat. Trebuia sa uit si sa ma bucur de toate visele frumoase dar eu le-am plans ca s-au evaporat.<br /><br />Trebuia sa iubesc iubirea, dar nu am reusit sa o vad niciodata.<br /><br />Trebuia sa iert si am iertat, dar n-o sa stie niciodata ca a fost iertat, cum nu o sa stie nici ce am scris.Mylohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09129572158833610248noreply@blogger.com2