Aug 17, 2009

jewish gentlemen's club

jesus christ
for being the raddest hippie, voicing the soundest judgments ever to get misinterpreted, making me see that good doesn't rule out smart as much as the devil would like it to, teaching me kindness, and engaging my soul in the longest, most exciting game of hide and seek.
albert einstein
for showing the world that the physical how of science and the philosophical how of god can coexist peacefully in the mind of a genius; and for emanating the sweet kind of wisdom i constantly, desperately need to be reminded exists.
franz kafka

for being the one writer whom i have read in tears [not years], and more importantly, for showing me i'm not alone in the nightmare of my inability to grasp the agenda of the powers that be [he wrote nothing about the university of bucharest, but still].
charlie chaplin
for providing me with an answer to those pesky favourite actor/director questions, and for having the divine spark of common sense, in a world where common sense is of little or no use other than to be channelled into exquisite and heartbreaking tragicomedy.
kurt vonnegut jr.

for being such an entertaining read, so legible yet [therefore?] so damn misunderstood i want to exhume and cuddle his remains. for helping me find salvation in his escapist philosophies, only to discover i was a moron to think he meant them as such, and be forever cured of my nihilism.

all the above: for being consumed by fierce grief in the face of human stupidity at its most absurd, yet staying charmingly witty. and so very quotable.

in the words of another very quotable, not-so-jewish but what-a-gentleman, sting:
takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
be yourself, no matter what they say

Aug 11, 2009

dear mr. anderson

[open letter to ian anderson of jethro tull]

if you should ever read this letter i will be a bit embarrassed, but it will mean i got somewhere.
i love summer. quite a random and commonplace thought to share, but bear with me. the realm of summer is one of terrifying unhingement from routine that forces me into all manner of epiphanies. so it is that i have been overflowing with hopeful and ardent creativity lately. i've felt my brain expand into accepting the idea that i can come to read musical notes and wield the classical guitar to places uncharted.
i called my boyfriend the other day, to speak of my numberless new ideas, of how i want to write a song structured like a catholic psalm, of how i'd like to play with classical pieces even though jethro tull's done it before. he let out a chuckle that conveyed matter-of-fact amusemet at a recollection he seemed to take for granted. at your 2007 sibiu gig, he told me, you referred to those works as porno jazz. yay, funny. since i've made a vow to keep the levels of drama-queening and self-deprecation down for this blog, i'll just say at the time, by my own bloody hand, i was pining away penniless, pressed, and without serotonin, in the desolate arms of my life's very worst summer ever. and thus missed said gig. the memory, or lack thereof, since i wasn't there, hit me so hard i cried. especially as i realized that back then i wasn't even fully aware of your music's boundless gracefulness, complexity, effervescence... nah, bleedin' coolness best describes it, i believe.
so here i am, searching my musical soul and finding that if i had to choose one and only one musician in this world i'd want to be like, it would be you, mr. anderson.
please swear to me you will stay in shape, stick with the band and come back to romania so i can attend your gig, meet you and perform with you. [yeah, swear to me!]

thank you for your time.
your schizophrenic disciple,

Aug 5, 2009

hello goodbye

i'm back from the seaside. i got more than the mind cleansing lolling i'd bargained for, yet i don't have much to say. even typing feels strange. i'm like a little alien dropped here accidentally. bucharest, my neighbourhood, my room - all that makes up this manhole that has kept me boxed for a bitter long year now looks different, new, beautiful. it's a matter of time till my compulsions resume chewing me up. i've already abused my mp3 player and the swinger and i'm blogging. but tonight i'm off to my bf's for some sandless fun and tomorrow i'm leaving town again. you know, i shun fancy things like electricity.

upon the jagged shore
beneath the burning sun
we spend ourselves intending many puns