duminică, 28 decembrie 2008

acasa

N-am mai scris de ceva timp si ma simt vinovata. Pentru ca imi place sa scriu, dar ma las coplesita de grijile zilnice si oboseala si aman. Se apropie Anul Nou si one of my New Year's resolutions is this: write more, write better.

Am venit in Romania sa-mi petrec Sarbatorile alaturi de familie. De fiecare data cand ma intorc aici imi dau seama cat mi-e de dor de casa, de ai mei, de sentimentul acela ca esti acasa, printre ai tai. Bucuria revederii este usor umbrita de gandul ca sejurul e scurt, ca de obicei. rudele si prietenii trebuie vazuti in fuga, cu program, ca nu e timp. mai strecori si o programare la dentist si gata concediul. si dupa o saptamana, te simti mai obosita decat la inceputul vacantei si te apasa gandul ca trebuie sa pleci, sa-i lasi in urma si-ti promiti ca data viitoare iti vei face mai mult timp de ei, vei fi mai rabdator si mai intelegator.

Nimic nu e mai frumos decat un Craciun alb acasa, cu sarmalele si cozonacii mamei. Imi aduce aminte de copilarie si imi vine sa las pentru un moment capul in poalele mamei si sa-i spun ca, desi trecuta bine de varsta adolescentei, am nevoie de mangaierea ei, de intelegerea ei fara intrebari si explicatii. Am nevoie sa stie ce ma doare fara sa-i spun ce. Si mai am nevoie de promisiunea ei ca totul va fi bine. Pentru ca atunci cand promite ea, ca prin minune, lucrurile se intampla asa cum spune.

Dar sunt adult acum si oricat as vrea mangaierea mamei, nu vreau sa o impovarez cu ganduri si framantari la care raspunsul trebuie sa-l gasesc singura.

luni, 17 noiembrie 2008

Cheile Bicazului

Here I am again, on my way to see grandmother, like every year for the past 30 years. I am driving through Bicaz Gorges, the road a narrow corridor winding at the bottom of the dark grey monoliths, the spring humming on my right. It comes from somewhere above, high in the peak, washing down on the mountain wall. Just like 30 or 10 years ago. Just like forever. I say hello to the spring, to the mountains, to the humming, to this divine and peaceful place. Hello. I missed you all. Do you remember me?

As a child, Bicaz Gorges were the most exciting part of our trips to grandma. The grey, humbling rocks, the huge cross on the highest peak, the cascade falling and the wind humming in the canyon were always an excitement, especially for us kids, amazed by nature’s might. I felt like a small ant running around those little wooden shops where Hungarian craftsmen sold their souvenirs: linen blankets and coats, wooden spoons and flutes, ceramic bowls, and plates, Dracula wooden masks, all little pieces of handmade artistry.

The tiny brown booths were stringed on both sides of the road, just like today. They looked identical, like doll houses, where real people were selling funny gadgets.

I decide to stop for five minutes and take in the view. Everything seems frozen in time. I walk from shop to shop just watching the craftsmen sell and the tourists bargaining for a vase, or a lamp, or a flute or a ceramic. All beautifully painted, vividly coloured miniatures with complicated patterns.

I get in the car and continue my journey. I drive past the shops, the hikers and tourists. I pass by the Red Lake. I stop again, get out of the car and look down to the still waters, old chunks of trees spiking through the surface. It formed almost 200 years go when a huge mountain peak slid and barred the river upstream. When I was three, my parents took me on the lake in a small wooden fisherman’s boat. I was sick, coughing like a mule, almost suffocating. I had caught the illness from a boy I used to play with at my grandmother’s.

Even though it’s summer, the mountain air is chilly and it makes me shiver. I get back in the car. I continue my journey. I drive past pine woods and try to pay attention to the narrow, road, winding in front. On my left there is nothing but abyss. After passing my driving test, I was always scared to cross these gorges alone. I would imagine the car falling down into the chasm. I would panic at the thought of the car slipping backwards into the emptiness.

My palms sweat and I try to think about my grandmother, all my relatives waiting for my arrival. The 90 degrees curbs still frighten me. My dad used to sit next to me, encouraging me, teaching me how best to take the windings in the road. I am still scared, but I have to do it. I imagine that my dad sits next to me, guiding me. I try to take in all the wild beauty surrounding me and not to think about being a few hundred meters high from safe ground.

I remember my mum singing to me to ease my car sickness and the long hours drive. I still remember the lines of the only two songs she always had to sing. I start humming just to keep my mind busy while I am passing the gorges. And try to think about tonight. I am going to see my grandmother. She used to cook ball de neige every time I came to visit. i can already feel the sweet taste of vanilla and milk...

duminică, 9 noiembrie 2008

Dare-Devil Spirit

I met him on my first day of high school. Dark hair, olive skin, and mischievous smile. A real head turner! I disliked him instantly. He was too arrogant, one of those brats with a cocky walk who changed girlfriends like socks.


Two weeks into high school he was already dating a girl from my class and a curly brunette in 9C, who wore tonnes of make up and a violent red lipstick that made her look trashy. His macho tricks worked wonders on those silly twats! At 16, he was a renegade! He smoked. Drank. Slept around. A real bad ass!


We named him Cri Cri d’Amour, after a character in a popular French sitcom. A real love cricket, he even won Miss Turcu’s favours, our bitter Geography teacher, whose fiancée left her at the altar 100 years before.


“Don’t you ever get tired?” I’d ask him in a mocking tone. “They are so predictable, so boring!”

“No, the more shit you feed them the more they’ll take”, he’d reply with a devilish smile.

We were like cat and dog for a year. In tenth grade, I humiliated him publicly. I slapped him for wanting to kiss me. “I will get you!” he hissed before turning around.

He started by sweet talking all my friends. They were soon convinced he was madly in love with me. Everything became about me and me alone. He sat next to me in class, wrote me love notes and bought me flowers.


Suddenly school was not so boring and waking up in the morning was a blessing. He made a habit of meeting me at 7.45am, at the corner of a ramshackle on my way to school. I would notice him from far, leaning against the old fence, smoking a fag and smiling sheepishly. He looked so dangerously gorgeous! He would kiss me on the cheek and tell me good morning.

Soon we were writing each other love letters. He wrote for me the lyrics of every love song we listened to, and made tapes with my favourite bands.


And then things got weird…suddenly I was supposed to stay away. He carried a terrible curse that would kill him exactly on 31st August. He had nightmares, the light bulb in his room would explode every other night, and his death was going to be by accidental electrocution. The more I heard, the more I wanted to save him.


I felt sucked into a nightmare, where his favourite past time was self inflicted razor cuts on his arms and cigarettes burns on his chest. I was a ghost, losing weight, sleep, and my mind.

He broke up with me that summer, before school ended. “You don’t sleep with me…I don’t want you!” It was all just a bet that he lost because his time had run out!


The following year he moved to another school. Word got around he’d slept with our young Chemistry teacher, who also happened to be the headmaster’s daughter. Things got ugly and although it was all hush, hush, everybody knew.

Five years later, we meet by chance. Two older, wiser friends. At 23, he is a fresh divorcee, a “victim” certainly. He is still dangerously charming.

luni, 6 octombrie 2008

Monday

I didn't work in my garden after all. It was pouring down like mad yesterday! Instead, we took a long walk in the afternoon. It smelled of fall, crispy and foggy, like somebody was burning dried leaves somewhere on a hill. The streets looked so pictoresque, with redish trees, coloured leaves on the ground, brick houses...it felt clean and it was beautiful.

i like fall.

sâmbătă, 4 octombrie 2008

Saturday

there is nothing better than to wake up on a Saturday morning and KNOW...the alarm is not going to go off and you don't have to go to work. No rush to be anywhere, no freezing at the bus stop. Instead, you will enjoy a cup of good coffee, sitting on your couch and looking out the window at the cold morning sun of an October day.

My boyfriend told me today that fall is one of his favorite seasons...not that you have much choice in UK...there is chilly weather and loads of rain...and then there is cold weather and rain again :)

But still, come to think of it and leaving cold aside, there is nothing like the smell of fall, the crispy air... the sound of cracking leaves under your feet...the pastel colors...and if it rains so what? you close the garden door and watch the rain drops trickling while you hold your warm coffee mug and cuddle in warm blankets.

it kind of reminds me of childhood, the first few days of school the chestnut trees aligned on each side of the road. I can smell the air, see the leaves color and feel the cold rain on my chicks. And all around me, loads of happy children chattering away on their way to class. it was ages ago...but feels like yesterday.

I promised myself I would do some gardening tomorrow, plant a few yellow daffodils and white tulips. This should be a first :) the only gardening experience I ever had was weeding my grandmother's flower beds when I was a kid. and i wasn't any good because i lacked the necessary patience. So this is advantageous and exciting! hope it won't rain too much. this would definitely kill my enthusiasm.

miercuri, 1 octombrie 2008

why??????????

you want to always be safe... reality check: there is no such thing...

you want to be always funny and witty and cool and cool again...but how do you do it? you want to be peaceful and happy and worry free...the more you struggle, the more you are the opposite.

Fear is the slow and painful death of the joy of living, of the belief that you are the best thing that ever happened to you. we fear nobody loves us, we fear we are being lied to, we fear our rating is falling and we won't be somebody's favourite friend. we fear we will not be considered interesting, beautiful, intelligent, lovable.

in a world where everything is moving fast, where people come and go...how do you keep your cool? how do you keep your friends? ...how do you deal with fear? how do you ignore it? meditation, self confidence workshops? has anybody ever written a book about how to ignore your fear of not being?

why are we always so unhappy with ourselves? why do we think that the person next to us is better just because their hair is black and long or curly and blond? we go through great lenghts to please just because we fear ending up alone and lonely...and it's sad because we are beautiful creatures, each in our own way. but we get bored with ourselves and with eachother. and we move to the next one thinking that they have something better to offer. We are using ourselves over and over again without even realising we are One, the same flow of energy in different forms.

We cheat on our girlfriends and boyfriends, but we actually cheat on ourselves. we think we're bored and that we need new excitements in our lives, just because what we had until now is not good enough for us. we want a new car, even though we have a perfectly good one. we throw out clothes, shoes, movies, we throw out our old lives just because we got bored with it. we dessert firends, we move places looking forward to the next thrill. a superficial world where attachment and love are overrated.

duminică, 28 septembrie 2008

DMC Championship

Vineri si sambata seara am fost la DMC Championship in O2 Arena la Indigo2...a fost fantastic. Imi place muzica, imi plac cluburile, dar am o slabiciune pentru turntable-ism si scratching...stiu ca cineva ar ridica din spranceana daca ar citi ce spun eu aici...dar imi place intr-adevar mult. mi se pare un lucru extraordinar sa poti sa faci muzica din cateva sunete pe care le invarti pe o placa. ca sa nu mai spun de cat talent si cata munca, cate ore si ore de repetitie trebuie sa aiba cineva ca sa ajunga atat de bun. desi neconventiona, dupa mine turntable-ismul este o arta. multi stiu sa cante din gura sau la chitara si sa mixeze in cluburi, dar nu multi pot sa faca ce au facut baietii astia aseara.

vineri seara a fost batalia pentru World Supremacy...preferatul meu, francezul Nelson a iesit doar pe locul doi...dar cata adrenalina! fiecare concurent avea 90 de secunde la dispozitie sa arate ce poate...ceva de gen 8 Mile, dar cu placi. simteai ca-ti explodeaza nervii de emotie...de frica sa nu cumva sa greseasca...sa piarda beatul...

Sunetul a fost fenomenal..un sistem de boxe imense ca doua paranteze suspendate de o parte si de alta a scenei. doi prezentatori simpatici au intretinut atmosfera.

Batalia pe echipe, desi mult asteptata, a lasat de dorit anul asta...multi s-au bazat pe laptopuri in detrimentul mixului live pe platane. si daca pana acum nu am bagat de seama...diferenta de sunet, de claritate este evidenta.

Aseara clubul Indigo2 a fost plin pana la refuz. toti au venit sa vada finala la World Championship. Fiecare concurent avea 6 minute la dispozitie sa-si demonstreze maiestria. a castigat un francez.

si surpriza, surpriza...la final am avut parte de un spectacol aparte. Killa Kela facand beatboxing...la inceput am crezut ca e dj-ul din spate, dar cand acesta a plecat...a ramas killa si cu microfonul. el scratchuia, el canta, el rima. nu am vazut in viata mea asa ceva. si nici nu cred ca voi vedea prea curand. tipul asta poate fi o intreaga formatie, plus dj si PA in acelasi timp. talk about talent!

all in all it was a wicked, wicked week-end that i have enjoyed to the max!

sâmbătă, 27 septembrie 2008

Writing

so I finally did it!!! I enrolled in a course for writing fiction at Open University. I have been thinking for a while what was the best choice for me...going for a course in feature writing or this. I studied journalism so I figured writing a feature is something I should know by now...:)

Two days ago I received my course materials...it's weired to be thinking about assignments and exams again...but I am excited nonetheless. At least this will make me see if I have what it takes to be a good writer or not.

I don't know if everybody who writes needs an endorsement, that somebody to tell them they are doing the right thing or are just chasing wild geese...well, I guess this is my time to find out.

I have to be honest, I am scared ... but I have to remember that there is no way without trying and in the end...there is no failure...if it is for me, then I will make damn sure I enjoy it and take advantage of my gift...if not...well..there are so many hobbies that I would like to have the time to dedicate myself to...so it will surely be...moving on to the the next project.

There are so many things happening with me and around me at the moment...I don't even know where to look first...but I am happy because it keeps me busy and it makes me wake up hopeful in the morning...hopeful that the day ahead will be interesting and full of good things that will help me discover the world around me.

I consider myself lucky for being a curious person, for wanting to know more and not knowing what getting bored means. I remember my mum always telling me as a kid that boredome does not exist for an active person, be it pysically or spiritually. There are so many things to do in this world...and so little...little time.

unfortuentely we only realize this later...when we're in school we hate it, when we're young we want to be adults...we are in such a hurry to grow up ... and when we are adults...we look back and wish we were kids again...

going back to my writing...my biggest resolution: getting my language back...Romanian

vineri, 5 septembrie 2008

Italy


25th of August - Last bank holiday in 2008...a belated birthday present from my boyfriend...a trip to Italy, Verona. lovely city, lovely sun that we so much miss in London...lovely friends...and lovely relatives.

but for some strange and beautiful reason...London feels more home than this beautiful country where my ancestor came from. Now don't get me wrong...I love Latin people, I love their relaxed, nonchalant way of being...I love their food and their lunch break routine, but I don't think I could live there.

In a country where the weather is perfect, the language is so sweet and the food is amazing...there is something missing...or rather there is something too much in your face. you couldn't ignore it even if you stick your head in the groud: prejudice.

Now I know how it sounds..with me being Romanian and all that...but it actually felt like home, also becuase of this prejudice. far from me the tought of patronizing, but the feeling of not being good enough just because you're a foreigner...in this case, even worse...Romanian....stays with you while you roam the streets of Verona.

we were told that the North is like that, conservative, somehow distant and condescendent. certainly there are loads of tourists, but the ease of being that you find in london is nowhere to be seen.

so strange...for such a warm and loud people.

Pizza and ice cream were fantastic, though ...

marți, 22 iulie 2008

SHE...

She is looking at the people around her and she is wondering what the hell she's doing here...nothing really seems familiar, even though she knows she is in exactly in the same place as everyday, with the same people around, having the same lame conversations, smiling the same fake smiles and telling the same stupid lies.

She promises herself everyday that she would stop doing this soon...this is not the life she imagined she would have at this age. And this is certainly not the sort of person she imagined she would be...most certainly not.

There must be a way to take a few steps back...just a few steps...take a few different turns...she is still young, she can still change things around...

She looks in the mirror...a few lines here and there...but she might still be considered attractive...men still turn their heads when they see her in the street...so why the hell is she so paralyzed? why can't she make the move? why can't she embrace the life she dreams about having? what's stopping her?

Ever since she has been by herself, she started drifting away. She fights desperately to put some meaning in her time, in her days...that go by, one after the other...the same routine, the same boring stuff...she knows she is wasting time...but what could she do to stop this reckless way of living her life?

When she looks back ...what is it that thing that gives a purpose to her whole being? all she wanted was to do something really cool, really fulfilling...she still has time...but what can she do?

She is mediocre at best, in everything she does...she tried her hand at playing the piano, at painting, at writing and at designing fashion outfits...but nothing worked. she is just a common girl, common eyes, common tits and the most common legs ever. why do people say she's special? she looks in the mirror, but she cannot see anything...anything...

what are others seeing in her that she cannot grasp? why can't she just do something outstanding for a change...or at least do herself a favour and go somewhere where everybody can forget about her?

Instead she goes about her petty life...dreaming of big things and special meanings...trying to understand the mystery of the universe but too afraid to actually start searching for the truth...


She knows that she's utterly alone and lonely...

marți, 8 iulie 2008

Back from holiday



intotdeauna intoarcerea din vacanta e "dureroasa"... cand reusesti in sfarsit sa te rupi de toate, sa uiti de telefon si sa te relaxezi la malul marii...trebuie sa te intorci...

sa faci hiking pe dealurile spaniei e demential...sentiment de libertate, drive-ul de a nu te opri pana ajungi in varf... dorinta ca timpul sa incremeneasca si sa ramai simtind acolo, in momentul ala...cand totul e posibil si nimic nu pare de netrecut...

sau sa fii fercit cand ai marea soptindu-ti la ureche, ademenindu-te cu valurile si cu nesfarsirea ei...

a fost frumos in Spania...m-am bucurat de lucrurile marunte, de o raza de soare si de nisipul cald...de cerul albastru si de frumusetea palmierilor...

duminică, 22 iunie 2008

why do we fall out of love?

I keep asking myself this many times over...and I still cannot find an explanation that would give me a little peace of mind. You go into a relationship with high or no expectations...you tell yourself nothing is forever so, enjoy it while you can...and then...boom...something happens and you realize you've let yourself in for a ride that is bound to get you hurt.

You keep telling yourself you are not the first, or the last person to go through such a thing...hell it is not even the first time when it happens to you...but somehow all this doesn't help...on the contrary, it makes you feel so powerless, so utterly lonely and out of touch with everything else around you.

Relationships are such a tricky thing. One moment you feel in control over your own feelings, and especially over your partner's feelings...the next...you realize there is no such thing as control...everything is volatile and ironically, somehow the roles have turned...you're drifting away, in an unending void...

You go about your petty life, every day, the same routine and worries...you forget to pay attention to the person next to you. I mean you see him/her, chit-chat and take care that a warm dish is on the table for dinner ... but you don't actually acknowledge their presence. you don't connect to that deeper level that was the key to your relationship in the first place. ironically, you know is wrong, but you have so many problems at work and in your life, your relationship can wait a little longer to get sorted out.

And when everything is too late, when you killed every hope there was to be happy with your partner...you wake up, like from a bad dream, you realize you've been sleep-walking for the past few years and you want your love back. You want a second chance of making it right so bad, it makes you scream in pain.

It hurts like hell and you just pray that the love is still there...but again, there is nothing you can do, but to hope and pray.

The word "control" should not exist in the dictionary. It is a mean, ugly word, a word that likes being abused. it makes you feel something you actually... really ...obviously...aren't.






vineri, 20 iunie 2008

The Amsterdams at Dublin Castle





Seara de marti ploaioasa in Londra. Ma indrept cu pasi repezi spre pub-ul The Dublin Castle, unde trupa romaneasca The Asterdams va sustine un recital. Miroase a tei si a proaspat, localurile din zona pline si zgomotoase, in ciuda faptului ca e abia inceput de o saptamana.

Asta e frumusetea Londrei…there’s always something to do, something to keep you out of the boredom, something to keep you going live and kicking! Mai ales in Camden, murdara si boema „patrie” a punk-ului.

De cum deschid usa pub-ului, ma intampina franturi de conversatii in romaneste…Inca mi se pare ciudat sa aud vorbindu-se romaneste in jurul meu, desi traiesc de atatia ani aici si am aproape in totalitate numai prieteni romani.


Dar parca e ceva diferit la crowd-ul din seara asta…se vede pe fetele lor ca sunt impatimiti ai rockului. Imi aduc aminte de Romania anilor ‘89-‘92… Copiii Revolutiei. In seara asta, muzica i-a adunat de pe la muncile lor, muzica i-a chemat sa-si traiasca cateva ore intr-un pub londonez.

Imi iau un pint, ca asa se cuvine la un pub si ma strecor in camera de auditie, unde momentan canta o trupa de rock alternativ cu puternice influente punk. Urmatorii sunt baietii nostri si nu mai pot de nerabdare.

Privesc in jur, de la scena luminata, la decorul underground al incaperii. Nici ca se putea un loc mai bine ales pentru o seara rock. Am un sentiment de deja vue sau doar imi aduce aminte de Club A in Bucuresti, unde tot studentul se aciua sambata seara la bere ieftina, muzica buna si multa distractie.

Incaperea incepe sa se umple din ce in ce mai tare… Perfomerii isi anunta ultima piesa, iar eu ma uit in jur bucuroasa ca sunt atat de multi cei care au venit sa-i vada pe Augustin (bass) Andrei (vocals) Paul (drums) Andrei (guitar) si Ovidiu (guitar/vocals).

Gata, baietii isi pregatesc instrumentele… Afisand un look increzator si cool, de la tricourile pana in talie, tenisii converse si ochelari negri cu rame groase, baietii incep in forta cu « Petrolize all Mice », una dintre piesele de pe noul lor EP, „Automatic”. Versurile catchy si muzica antrenanta sunt un inceput perfect pentru recitalul lor.

Ritmul e molipsitor. Sunt tineri si la inceput de drum, dar canta cu pasiune si daruire. Energia pe care o transmit publicului e electrizanta si ma impresioneaza entuziamsul cu care isi canta muzica.

Sentimentul imi e impartasit. Toti din jur, danseaza, dau din picioare si din maini si capete...in ritmul tobei.

Trupa e bine inchegata. Fiecare isi cunoaste instrumentul ca pe Tatal Nostru. „Suffering and surfing” makes everybody jump for joy, and reach for the ceiling. Melodia alterneaza stari de spirit, de la nostalgie pana la dezastru, and back again. Punctul lor forte este rock'n'roll-ul cantat live, la fel de agresiv precum al trupei Arctic Monkeys, combinat cu influente din Franz Ferdinand.

Dovedesc inspiratie in felul in care imbina cate putin din toate stilurile, de la melodii melancolice ca "Where to go", pana la indie pop cu "Fireworks". They definitely put on a good show.

Nivelul recitalului scade treptat, pentru a lasa loc melodiei « Lights out ». Baietii transpira si lumea impreuna cu ei. Termina recitalul lasandu-i pe toti cu zambetul pe buze.

Acestia sunt romanii de la The Amsterdams, o trupa indie romaneasca extrem de talentata si cu un stil absolut bestial. “Indie”, e cu siguranta ceva de care muzica romaneasca are nevoie acum: e nou, e fresh, va face un bang mare si va lasa oamenii cu gura cascata.

Reusesc sa iau un cd semnat de la baieti si sa aflu in fuga urmatoarea lor destinatie: Franta, EuropaVox Festival.

In urma lor, am ramas la un pahar de vorba cu noi amici, uniti de pasiunea noastra pentru muzica buna si pentru aceeasi patrie. Suntem o comunitate mica, cu suflet mare. Sunt sigura ca mai multe concerte gen The Amsterdams, aici in Londra, ar fi hrana sufleteasca pentru iubitorii de muzica buna romaneasca.




miercuri, 18 iunie 2008

Zimbabwe...un pamant uitat de lume

Citesc si ma ingrozesc...oameni batuti, torturati, violati, omorati...cu cata usurinta ne ranim semenii, devenim meschini si cruzi pentru bani, pentru putere, pentru...ce? Cand deschizi ziarul si vezi ca bietii zimbabweni mor pentru ca au indraznit sa voteze cu opozitia.

Cat de greu este sa faci un bine, cat planning si cata agitatie se naste cand te lansezi intr-o cauza umanitara...iar la extrema, cata usurinta ne caracterizeaza cand vine vorba de rau. Suntem in plina recesiune economica, oamenii mor de foame, de lipsuri si de saracie...si in loc sa incercam sa ajutam, suntem bucurosi sa distrugem.

Lumea asta ar trebui sa fie un paradis, e cu siguranta destul de incapatoare pentru toti, dar nu ne mai ajunge nimic. Vrem mai mult si mai mult si nu ne mai saturam.

Datoram copiilor nostri un viitor frumos, pe un Pamant curat si pasnic...dar nu le lasam decat suferinta, boli, razboie si neajunsuri. "Dupa mine potopul..." e mai actual decat am vrea sa credem. ACUM este mai important decat MAINE. Personal gain is more important than common good.

Trist, trist, trist...avem pretentii de specie evoluata si dam dovada de un canibalism feroce...ne hranim din violenta, din durere, din chinul semenilor nostri. De ce tolereaza puterile lumii un astfel de macel in Zimbabwe? De ce nu intervin pentru a instaura "drepturile omului si democratia" in tara asta uitata de lume?

marți, 17 iunie 2008

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

citesc o carte minunata despre istoria dj-ului. Am inceput "Last Night a Dj Saved My Life" prima data acum mai bine de un an, dar nu am reusit sa trec de primele pagini cam pline de date istorice si amanunte despre legile care guvernau lumea raidoului in anii '40.

Am reluat-o de curand and I love it!E extraordinar sa afli cum au evoluat gusturile, ce au influentat diferitele curente muzicale care s-au perindat prin cluburile lumii, sa afli ca muzica moderna are influente jamaicane si ca tot lor, jamaicanilor, le datoram si numele celui pe care-l numim azi dj.

Am aflat de existenta atator generatii care au contribuit la muzica de club asa cum e ea acum, la sacrificiile si pasiunea stramosilor dj-ului modern care au adoptat muzica drept religie, chiar daca pentru mult timp underground. Era pe vremea cand nu era totul legat de bani si de superstardom.

E minunat sa dansezi, sa poti uita de tine si sa te lasi purtat de ritm pana in zori sau poate chiar si mai tarziu. Aam vrut sa citesc despre toti cei carora le datorma azi totul; am vrut sa inteleg de ce asa si nu altfel; de unde atata diversitate, de unde atata creativitate. Cu fiecare pagina pe care o citesc, ma simt acaparata de o lume imbietoare, decandenta, talentata, "fanatica" si nebuna.

Sunetul, mai mult decat cuvantul exprima viata, iubire, D-zeu.

Ma bucur ca am ocazia sa traiesc alaturi de un DJ. Altfel poate nu as fi realizat cat talent si cata munca se ascunde in spatele unui mix cd. Dar e imbatator sa vezi cum pornesti de la o idee, de la o piesa si sfarsesti prin a avea un track list cu totul diferit decat ceea ce aveai in cap.

Ca orice alt artist, adevaratul dj trebuie sa fie inzestrat cu talent si cu o sclipire de geniu. Altfel, he's just a human jukebox.

Mi-as dori si doar pentru o clipa sa simt acel extaz pe care-l simte un dj cand ridica un club intreg in aer. Nu cred ca exista sentiment mai inaltator.


Asadar, Last Night a DJ Saved My Life ...

vineri, 13 iunie 2008

London

Traiesc in oraşul asta imens, pe care-l iubesc si-l detest totodată. Un oraş care nu doarme niciodata, care parca te inghite si te consuma in fiecare zi pe care ti-o petreci in el. As vrea sa scap de aici, sa plec departe...si totusi...cand a fost sa o fac, nu am putut. mai stau putin, mi-am spus...mai sunt inca atatea de facut si de vazut...

Eu si cu "londra" avem o relatie ciudata, de love and hate care nu cred ca se va sfarsi niciodata...si totusi am ajuns sa o iubesc si sa o apreciez...pentru lumea pestrita, pentru libertatea pe care ti-o ofera, pentru ca nimanui nu-i pasa si pentru ca poti sa-ti faci amici in fiecare club/bar/parc/etc in care mergi.

am venit un copil de provincie, trecut putin prin Bucuresti...

in primele 6 luni voiam acasa, la prieteni si la studentie... si a trebuit sa invat, pe propria-mi piele...incet, incet cu pasi de melc. sa ma lupt cu mentalitati si principii care nu-si aveau locul in orasul asta nebun si frumos...

si au trecut 7 ani aproape...si sunt tot aici...hmmm....ciudat, ireal uneori...parca traiesc viata altcuiva...