Friday, October 31, 2008

can you tell I'm losing sleep?

Pentru mine, descoperirea de sine si alte activitati cu titulaturi la fel de pretentioase, a rezultat din discutii cu oameni. Aparent, asta suna ca o mare banalitate. Dar am constatat ca e o chestie destul de rara. Oamenii in general se feresc sa se arate, de groaza ca partenerul de discutie le-ar putea desconspira secretele pe care pana nici ei nu le stiu despre sine. Mie asta imi place. Atunci cand comunic, fie si la un nivel superficial, sper sa imi clarific mie insami lucruri, sa ma uimesc si sa ma surprind singura in mod placut. E un act complet egoist; de fapt, de multe ori nici nu conteaza ce spune celalalt, sau conteaza intr-o masura prea mica pentru a schimba cu ceva directia in care se indreapta gandurile mele; ele se incoloneaza si gata.

Apropos, in seara asta am reusit - si sunt tare mandra de mine! - sa imi explic golul vesnic pe care il simt mai ales atunci cand lucrurile merg "bine." Nimeni nu poate intelege, si pe buna dreptate. Adica, de ce dracu ar fi cineva daramat atunci cand se intampla ceva "bun"? Urasc oamenii care aluneca in functie de curenti. Oameni care nu stau drepti, care se ascund de ei insisi, sau care se fofileaza in spatele unor idei mari fara sa le vada pe cele mici, care pana la urma, stau la temelia tuturor lucrurilor cu adevarat marete. Si mai mult urasc neputinta pe care o resimt si eu de multe ori; mi se pare cea mai serioasa amenintare la adresa progresului. Vorbind despre progres, o sa ma intorc la ideea de la care am pornit. Cred ca pentru a merge inainte, acest inainte trebuie sa doara. Altfel, ramai in oraselul tau, in casa parintilor, in relatia nici buna, nici rea care nu iti ofera mare lucru inafara de minunata posibilitate de a te plage - desi stii ca nu o sa faci nimic in privinta ei, la serviciul care te face sa te simti robotizat si sterp, la acelasi cerc de prieteni, la aceleasi obiceiuri, la acelasi tot. Vreau sa spun asta cat pot de clar acum pentru ca abia acum imi este clar si mie cu adevarat. Vreau sa para imposibil, sa se opuna, sa tanjesc, sa ma gandesc, sa ma lupt, iar telurile sa se reinnoiasca in mod continuu. In fiecare clipa sa stiu ce vreau, chiar daca nu stiu cum sa ajung acolo. Sa am obiective felurite, unele ridicole, altele putin probabile, dar toate ale mele. Ma tem de clipa in care ma simt comfortabil, cand nimic nu doare, nimic nu apasa, ci totul pluteste. In clipa aia, probabil, o sa fiu intr-o camera alba, legata la maini cu bucati mari de bumbac imaculat. Nu ma voi zbate, fiindca va fi fost in zadar. Acolo se va fi terminat.

Ra Ra Riot - Can You Tell


Monday, October 27, 2008

Devil's arcade





Remember the morning we dug up your gun
The worms in the barrel, the hanging sun
Those first nervous evenings of perfume and gin
The lost smell on your breath as I helped you get it in
The rush of your lips, the feel of your name
The beat in your heart, the devil's arcade

You said "Heroes are needed, so heroes get made"
Somebody made a bet, somebody paid
The cool desert morning and nothing to save
Just metal and plastic where your body caved
The slow games of poker with Lieutenant Ray
In the ward with the blue walls, a sea with no name
Where you lie adrift with the heroes of the devil's arcade

You sleep and you dream, your buddies Charlie and James
And wake with a thick desert dust on your skin

Voice says "don't worry, I'm here
Just whisper the word tomorrow in my ear"
House on a quiet street, a home for the brave
A glorious kingdom with the sun on your face
Rising from a long night as dark as the grave
On a thin chain of next moments and something like faith
On a morning to order a breakfast to make
A bed draped in sunshine, a body that waits
For the touch of your fingers, the end of the day
The beat of your heart, the beat of your heart
The beat of your heart, the beat of your heart
The beat of your heart, the beat of her heart
The beat of your heart, the slow burning away
Of the bitter fires of the devil's arcade


Sunday, October 26, 2008

Terry's song

Death is trivial and unnecessary. There are worse things.





Well they built the Titanic to be one of a kind, but many ships have ruled the seas
They built the Eiffel Tower to stand alone, but they could build another if they please
Taj Mahal, the pyramids of Egypt, are unique I suppose
But when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

Now the world is filled with many wonders under the passing sun
And sometimes something comes along and you know it's for sure the only one
The Mona Lisa, the David, the Sistine Chapel, Jesus, Mary, and Joe
And when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

When they built you, brother, they turned dust into gold
When they built you, brother, they broke the mold

They say you can't take it with you, but I think that they're wrong
'Cause all I know is I woke up this morning, and something big was gone
Gone into that dark ether where you're still young and hard and cold
Just like when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

Now your death is upon us and we'll return your ashes to the earth
And I know you'll take comfort in knowing you've been roundly blessed and cursed
But love is a power greater than death, just like the songs and stories told
And when she built you, brother, she broke the mold

That attitude's a power stronger than death, alive and burning her stone cold
When they built you, brother

je meublais ma solitude

Aurelien playing a very personal version of " Flanc de Certitudes" by Tété.




vs the original:


Monday, October 20, 2008

Because the night

He was a god, I was 2 weeks old.




FYI, Mr. Springsteen wrote this song for Patti Smith, and not the other way around.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

the highway is alive tonight

Makes me pee my pants.



The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes
I'm sittin' downhere in the campfire light
With the ghost of old Tom Joad

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

we can't run truth out of town, only force it underground

El este un baiat frumos care stie sa aprecieze aliteratiile la fel de mult ca si cacofoniile. El nu minte, doar omite adevarul uneori, mai ales atunci cand sunt lucruri urate de spus, fiindca nu poate spune lucruri urate. Desi e serios, prefera sa proiecteze.

El are vedere buna, dar se prosteste si poarta ochelari lumesti doar pentru placerea de a-i vedea aburiti cand si cand. Stie ca in ochelari se reflecta cel mai bine lumea, fara sa iti arda pleoapele sau sa ti se lipeasca cu superglue de retina.

El vrea sa se faca mare, si sa atinga toate statuiile pe crestet
si intr-o zi, sa o aiba pe-a lui

El stie toate secretele, si nu sufla o vorba
e mandru, si nu spune, le face pe toate ale lui

El alearga descult pe scoici sparte
si are picioarele pline de sange

El cauta refugiu in toate locurile gresite
in toate felurile imaginabile, toate la fel de egoiste

Pe El il iubeste toata lumea
dar el nu iubeste pe nimeni.

Despre El as putea sa vorbesc toata viata,
dar nu o voi face

Pe El l-am lasat in Marais
acolo unde ne-am dezlipit

Unde ochelarii nu i s-au mai aburit
Iar picioarele nu i-au mai sangerat