When you're alone you ain't nothing but alone

9 years in under 5 minutes

Now the sweet bells of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves,
The boarded up windows,
The empty streets
While my brother's down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins

baby, I got my facts, learned real good right now

Talk about a dream,
try to make it real
You wake up in the night,
with a fear so real,
Spend your life waiting
for a moment that just don't come,
Well, don't waste your time waiting

Badlands, you gotta live it everyday,
Let the broken hearts stand
As the price you've gotta pay,
We'll keep pushin' till it's understood,
and these badlands start treating us good

I'm on fire

Less than a month left!

sundown, sundown

(sursa: NYTIMES)

"The Last Carnival" imi place cel mai mult dintre piesele noului album. Am gasit din intamplare pe youtube videoclipul asta facut de un fan, si mi-a placut foarte mult, so here it is:

Sundown, sundown
They're taking all the tents down
Where have you gone my handsome Billy?

Sundown, sundown
The carnival train's leaving town
Where are you now darling Billy?

We won't be dancing together on the high wire
Facing the lions with you at my side anymore
We won't be breathin' the smoke and the fire
On a midway

Hanging from the trapeze
My wrists waiting for your wrists
Two daredevils high up on the wall of death
You throwin' the knife that lands inches from my heart
Sundown

Moonrise, moonrise
The light that was in your eyes has gone away
Daybreak, daybreak
The thing in you that made me ache has gone to stay

We'll be riding the train without you tonight
The train that keeps on movin'
Its black smoke scorching the evening sky
A millions stars shining above us like every soul livin' and dead
Has been gathered together by a God to sing a hymn over your bones

Sun down, sun down
Empty are the fairgrounds
Where are you now handsome Billy?


RIP Danny

Working on a dream

Bruce Springsteen mi-a salvat, inca o data, viata. Mila inspiratiei, cum imi place sa o numesc, a fost neobisnuit de rece si neprimitoare azi. Am mers, pas cu pas, apasand nu pe ploaia rece, sau pe umbrele sinistre facute de copaci, ci pe fiecare cm din lipsa mea de curaj. Si din nou, ca printr-o minune in care nici macar eu nu pot sa mai cred, omul asta m-a salvat din nou, m-a ridicat dintre umbre si ceata, si mi-a amintit ca singurul lucru de care am nevoie in viata, si aici ma refer STRICT la mine, este curajul.

Valorile au devenit ceva trivial, la fel si patriotismul sau increderea in viata, in oameni si in tine insuti. Springsteen le innoada, le rasuceste si le aduce la viata. Cine nu l-a inteles nu are cum sa aprecieze faptul ca omul asta si-a transpus nu doar viata lui, ci viata unui popor, pe care putem sa il iubim sau sa il uram, n-are importanta pana la urma. Reuseste sa cuprinda nu un mit, cum vor sari sa spuna criticii, ci esenta, esenta pe care chiar si ei insisi, cei care o contin, par sa o fi pierdut. E greu sa vezi lumina atunci cand esti un om mic si sterp, e si mai greu sa te umple si pe tine atunci cand tu esti plin doar de rahat. Sunt incompatibile. In Romania, sa ai vise e o prostie. E ceva ridicol, si daca ai curajul sa o recunosti vei starni, in cel mai bun caz, niste zambete dezaprobatoare si sfredelitoare.

In ceea ce ma priveste, datorita lui am reusit sa vizualizez esenta MEA, asa cum este ea, dincolo de mizeriile zilnice, de aspiratiile prea inalte, sau durerile prea mari. Esenta e o constanta, singura care ma insoteste oriunde as merge, si ma face sa zambesc la 12 noaptea, pe o strada mare si goala, pe vant si ploaie marunta, la doar cateva grade. Sa stau in mijlocul strazii, sa inchid ochii si sa inteleg ca finalul, la fel ca si inceputul, sta in mainile mele, si nu ale altcuiva.

Bruce face ceva ce nu au facut prietenii, iubitii, dumnezeu, sau parintii mei: he can walk the extra mile for me, and carry me with him.

He was born to run but now he's home:

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band - Born to Run, reunion concert live NYC 2000

the ultimate rant

Uneori mastile cad. Cad si se sparg de pamant. Ti se accelereaza respiratia, iti dai seama ca inca esti om, si respiri, pentru prima oara de mult timp, cu adevarat. Respiratia a devenit un laitmotiv pentru mine, si e ciudat cum iti poti da seama in momentele cele mai neasteptate ca autismul poate fi spulberat de o mocha bauta in tihna pe un fotoliu la starbucks.

La sfarsitul fiecarei zile sunt singura. Persoana intai se cere in situatia asta, credeti-ma. Te simti singur, dar nu neaparat nefericit. Daca spui cuiva ca te simti singur, automat primesti compatimire si daca esti foarte norocos, chiar si o imbratisare. Char si la sfarsitul unei zile pe care pana si eu o recunosc ca fiind minunata (fara vreun strop de ironie), tot singura ma simt. Si in ciuda cliseului, cred ca singuratatea mi s-a tatuat in creier, si mai mult, pe piele. Singuratatea nu mai doare, nu ma mai deprima, nici nu ma mai nemultumeste - o accept, o iau asa cum este, si o car in gluga hainei zi de zi. Mi-e frica, recunosc, sa intorc brusc capul si sa ma uit in spate - la modul cel mai propriu - fiindca exista posibilitatea ca singuratatea sa-mi sara in ochi si sa ma orbeasca. O port cu mine, dar nu vreau sa o vad. Am realizat ca nu o resping pentru respingerea ar fi artificiala, nu ar fi o reactie, ci o lupta. Si cu singuratatea nu poti lupta, orice ar spune orice barbat, prieten, terapeut, sau necunoscut de pe strada. Nu imi mai plang de mila pentru ca pana la urma singuratatea ti-e data din nastere, precum talentul la desen sau urechea muzicala. Singuratatea nu e niciodata o alegere, nu e stil de viata, nu e moft, si nu e aroganta desi multi m-au acuazat de toate astea. Singuratatea e amprenta divina, e un dar si tot ce trebuie sa facem e sa invatam sa il fructificam si sa il implinim. Dar, cel mai presus, cred eu, singuratatea trebuie sa ne invete sa o recunoastem si in alti oameni, oricat de mult s-ar chinui sa o ascunda, sa o reperam si sa ii vedem frumusetea.

Singuratatea nu e un lucru cu care sa te impaci usor. Frica, faptele bune, prietenia, iubirea, succesul, bucuria, tristetile, dorul, mortalitatea, credinta, nimic nu o altereaza, nimic nu o reduce. Singuratatea asta de care vorbesc nu este esec amoros, nu e frustrare, nici intristare, nici lipsa, nici dor. Singuratatea asta este aparent inexplicabila, si cu cat cauti o justificare pentru ea, cu atat esti mai aproape de miezul ei, si cu atat mai insuportabila devine. Tristetea poate sa creasca, la fel si frustrarea, sau nemultumirea, dar numai cand toatea astea se consuma, putem sa lasam intr-adevar singuratatea sa straluceasca, sa ne ghideze, si sa ne calmeze.

Altii o explica mult mai bine, tot ce trebuie sa facem este sa ascultam cu atentie.

On the road the sun is sinkin' low Sombody's hanging in the trees

Prietenia este, pana la urma, o chestie artificiala, o constructie fara ferestre care n-are nimic de oferit cu exceptia catorva grade in plus fata de temperatura de-afara.

Tristetea, singuratatea, disperarea, regresia, inecul, nebunia, posomoreala, pulsatiile, negura, lumina orbitoare, raceala, toropeala, vedeniile - toate devin ilare. Sa stii ca nu te invinovatesc, chiar si dupa toate astea si mie imi vine sa rad. Asa, asurzitor, necontrolat.

In the end, to make anything work, I guess we all need a little Magic:

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

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

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.

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

The Boss

Cum o fi sa canti "this is your hometown" in Rockefeller Plaza, si sa canti din suflet? Pai, cred ca asa trebuie sa fie.