AntiJurnal - Atelier d'Art Obscur

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AntiJurnal - Atelier d'Art Obscur

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Feb 22, 2004 12:01 am

rain shall come and corpses will become roses...

In loc de inceput - pentru ca nu ma pricep la inceputuri si se pare ca orice as face nu are inceput si nici sfarsit - nu pot face altceva decat sa va povestesc despre Ioana. Ioana nu e darkshines, desi purtam acelasi nume si avem aceeasi varsta. Ioana e o fata inalta, cu par negru si gene lungi. Ioana este un nume in registrul cunostintelor ce imi sunt aproape-amici-dar-nici-chiar. Ioana este finuta, desteapta si asculta Tori Amos. Ioana are degete lungi si umeri ingusti. Ioana e puternica si sigura pe sine. Ne-am cunoscut cand eram amandoua inca copii, nerabdatoare sa vedem lumea, sa incercam totul. Ioana m-a vazut crescand, trecand prin multe si totusi nu a fost mai mult decat un simplu spectator la filmului prost, eternul cliche, al copilului ce devine adolescent. Aseara insa, Ioana a devenit un personaj, nu o pereche de ochi ce urmareau actiunea cu nepasare. Ioana spera si astepta. Mi-a spus ca astepta sa se indragosteasca de peste doi ani. Mi-a spus ca astepta ca dragostea sa o salveze de lumea pe care o cautase cu atata nerabdare acum cativa ani. Am zambit. Pana atunci nu ma gandisem la dragoste. Nu imi pusesem niciodata intrebarea daca exista sau nu. Dragoste, iubire, romantism, iubiti, atractie, sex, amalgam de cuvinte dintre care doar ultimele doua sunau familiar si existau, fiind chiar acolo in fata mea, in pubul plin de fum si corpuri, aburi de alcool si basi, unde zeci de iubiti stateau imbratisati. Nu stiam daca exista dragostea si nu eram asa sigura ca vreau sa stiu, insa vazand-o pe Ioana vorbind cu atata convingere despre ea, nu crezand ci stiind ca exista, ca e acolo undeva si ca intr-o zi va veni la ea si o va salva, ca un cavaler dintr-un basm, ma facea si pe mine sa vreau sa cred.
- Intr-o zi, mi-a zis, intr-o zi o sa ma indragostesc.
M-am intors catre ea, zambind, si i-am spus:
- Sunt sigura de asta.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Vin Feb 27, 2004 9:00 pm

... as I swing like a blade over the Mississippi...
vineri seara, nori de ploaie si betisoare parfumate

Si iata-ma la o masa in Bolta Rece, in jurul orei 5:30pm. In stanga mea, un perete decorat cu un poncho vechi. In dreapta nenea punker din reclama de la Frutti Fresh. Ma intreb oare cum a ajuns cu noi la masa. II admir creasta un pic si apoi imi mut privirea. In fata, un pahar plin cu betisoare parfumate. In fata paharului, Ioana. In spatele ei, barul. Barmanul fuma Lucky Strike. Ma uit in spatele meu, un geam prin care se vedea afara. M-am intors cu un zambet multumit. Ploua perfect.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Mar 03, 2004 9:55 am

...there's black smoke rising, Lord, just over the hills...

Cred ca cea mai cretina senzatie perceputa de psihicul uman e aceea care apare cand uiti ce vroiai sa spui, sau cand dupa indelungi cugetari, talmaciri si rastalmaciri ale gandurilor tale impletite cu citate din marii filozofi care defapt nu au nici o legatura cu ce spuneai, te asezi frumos in fata calculatorului se te apuci sa tastezi, doar pentru a realiza ca imediat cum termini primul cuvant, inspiratia s-a ofilit, creierul s-a pleostit si entuziasmul a murit. Si totusi...

Nu mi-as fi dat seama niciodata ca ma uraste daca nu as fi coborat de pe calul meu (n e g r u) inalt si nu m-as fi uitat un pic in jur, pentru ca fie intre noi, de obicei sunt mult prea implicata in problemele ce ma preocupa pe mine si rareori ii observ pe ceilalti daca nu au legatura cu problemele mentionate. Probabil e din cauza ca, prin comparatie, eu fac totul mai bine decat ea. Probabil pentru ca odata ce am aparut, au dat-o jos de pe tron, si m-au incoronat r e g e. Probabil de aceea se-ascunde printre supusi, asteptand sa-i taie calului meu n e g r u(inalt) un picior.

Azi la 1 incepe telenovela noastra preferata. Drama, actiune, dragoste, pasiune si dezamagiri, Eminescu alergand cu limba scoasa printre banci, elevul de servici mestecand plictisit o bucata de covrig, caiete zburand impreuna cu parameci si parametri in jurul catedrei, domnul Gutescu latrand pe hol, furtuna de fum iesind din baie de la baieti. Ah, paradis.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Mar 10, 2004 4:36 pm

I remembered the sound of bone breaking under the force of the impact, cartilage crunching into hundreds of shards that stabbed through my flesh, blood trinkling down in small drops, air running out of my lungs in one sharp exhale, coldness beginning to invade my limbs, the dark sky above me tearing itself apart and rain crashing violently against my dry skin. I remember him smiling bitterly at me while his fist inched closer to my face in what seemed to be an eternity, the wind ripping through my allready torn gown, bruises and cuts staining through the thin material and thunder following lightning in a violent dance above our heads. I remember looking around me, seeing the black hills dressed in gray flesh and crimson veils sleep under the sickly rose-coloured twilight, the smell of death and decay embeded into the dirt beneath me, the faint wind, the thin fog and smoke that covered the valley.
And before the last drop of life was beaten out of my mangled body, I remember him saying:
"This is the place where demons like you come to die."


dictionar:
Ioana(Joanne, Jo) – alter-ego darkshines. Capricioasa, aroganta, schizofrenica, vorbareata, insuportabila, jucausa, plictisita, frustrata. Viseaza: urat. Zodie: leu. Cartea: nausea (J.P. Sartre); Filmul: trainspotting. Dependenta de: tigari, cornflakes. Ocupatie preferata: sa deseneze. sa vorbeasca. Studii: mate-fizica-informatica. Current job: none. Dreamjob: grafician alcoolic pseudo-cunoscut cu portofoliu trendy.

Ana(lightshines, anne) – prietena darkshines. Tacuta, sarcastica, acida, finuta, toleranta, relaxata, linistita, glumeata. Viseaza: pisici. Zodie: pesti. Cartea: procesul (F. Kafka); Filmul: requiem for a dream. Dependenta de: tigari. Ocupatie preferata: sa citeasca. sleitul(oameni, pisici, orice altceva). Studii: arte plastice, matematica. Current job: none. Dreamjob: femeie de servici la morga judeteana.

Pi(Ioana S.) – prietena darkshines. Libertina, ciudata, sigura pe sine, inteligenta, ironica, critica, infantila, violenta. Viseaza: tot timpul, orice. Zodie: capricorn. Cartea: nu stiu; Filmul: american beauty. Dependenta de: dulciuri. Ocupatie preferata: sa doarma. Studii: nimic in mod special. Current job: none. Dreamjob: none.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Joi Mar 11, 2004 6:39 pm

...I'm crazy, doc, but I don't care what you see when you look my way, I'm a motherfuckin' butterfly.

Cred ca m-am saturat de viata mea. Ma duc sa-mi bat pisica cu un salam.
Nu aveţi permisiunea de a vizualiza fişierele ataşate acestui mesaj.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Mar 16, 2004 10:06 pm

I believe in few things, yet I am not spiritualy vacuous.
You are a memory, that fades with each second that washes over me. You are a scent of something I can never place, almost but not quite, as far away as the dust I left behind when I ran from you. You are a bitter taste in my mouth. You are the cancer I amputated long ago.
... you are like hypothermia stabbing my limbs.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Vin Mar 19, 2004 4:39 pm

Bai, nu stiu sigur, dar cred ca in casa miroase a gaz.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Lun Mar 22, 2004 9:18 pm

There was this one night, when I was lying motionless in my bed, the covers sprawled ungraciously between my limbs and the pillows, when I forgot to breathe. It was strange, yet comforting in a way, like the peace you always want and never seem to get. I realised then, that all one needs to do in life, to find happiness and absolution, is to simply stop breathing. But why would I want to be content? Why should I wish for all that is my life and my world to dissapear with the last breath I exhale? I felt content, indeed, but I also felt numb. And realisation struck me: I wanted to feel...I wanted to live. Now I lie here in my bed, under the covers and sheets that still lay thrashed between my limbs as they did that night, waiting for my lungs to fill with air again.

pants_with_attitude: imi palpaie inima de emotie
pants_with_attitude: sau s-ar putea sa fie stomacul meu gol
pants_with_attitude: da' ceva tot palpaie

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Vin Mar 26, 2004 12:40 am

It seemed only natural to me, that once I realised the futility in my attempts to be a child, I would be able to accept my lack of childhood carelesness. However, what I did not expect was the feeling of stagnation that came along with the acceptance I learned to have of my precocious development. But I grew tired of being lonely. I grew tired of being antagonized and in my moment of weakness, I began to sink into a coma, living, but dead on the inside, awake but drifting in sleep everyday, waiting for the world to catch up to me and be like me. And I waited, and waited, patiently...hopefully.

I feel rotten now, like a piece of meat left under the baking august sun, like an abandoned carcass on the boiling pavement of a highway, like a corpse that can't escape death's still embrace. Now, I see everyone else grow and move on, while I stay behind in stagnation. Now, I can only remember the child who was not a child, and who fought to be like what she was supposed to be, the child who was lonely when they pulled her out of her fantasies, the child that died inside me, the child I killed two years ago, the child whose ghost still haunts my mangled mind and whose demons still linger in my body.

I'm sorry mother, I'm sorry father. I killed your daughter long ago. I put her out of her misery and took her place. I gave her all she ever dreamed of and took away all that she had. I'm not who you think I am anymore. I'm the failure and the whore your daughter dreamed of but didn't dare to be. I'm the killer, the psycopath, the insane murderer that she chose to become. I embody everything she loathed and yet succumbed to eventually. And I regret my crimes every night I remember when under the knife I held, she begged me to stop.


sa ploua, sa ploua, sa spele mizeria de pe strazi, si mizeria din noi...

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Mar 28, 2004 8:49 pm

My wild love went ridin'
She rode all the day
She wrote to the devil
And asked him to pay
The devil was wiser
It's time to repent
He asked her to give back
The money she spent


[i]“You've got to walk that lonesome valley. You've got to go there by yourself. There's no one here can go there with you. You've got to go there by yourselfâ€Â

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Apr 04, 2004 4:35 am

Her head spinned with a velocity she'd never encountered before which made her winding journey to the bathroom dificult albeit pleasant in the sensation's newness. The nausea hit right before she knocked on the door and while she fought to keep it in she wondered how she even managed to knock and yell "Emergency". Well truth be it, she didn't. It was actually her friends that stood behind her.
....
The bathroom walls were sickly yellow like the toilet seat and even the liquid soap in the little container by the sink. Her eyes remaind fixed on that disgusting colour while her friends came in to help her. They massaged her arm, sprinkled water over her face, gave her a slice of lemon to bite and even offered to go outside with her despite the freezing cold just so she could get some air. They meant the world to her, her friends, she thought, but they didn't really have to know it. After all, it's not healthy to show too much affection or attachement. But now, in drunken nausea and discomfort she was willing to humbly letting her outter shell dissapear and show weakness and desire to be helped. Now, if she could actually speak without slurring, she would tell them how much she loves them; all of them. But she found she couldn't utter a word without her head exploding at each syllable. Now, when all she could do is lie helplessly on the toilet and think - though even that hurt mildly - she realised who are the important people in her life. Now, she let her head fall ungracefully on his shoulder and whimpered "Damn you and your vodka shots. It's all your fucking fault!"


Hotaratu-m-am sa nu mai beau vodca niciodata pe stomacul gol si in combinatie cu gin si bere. Hotaratu-m-am ca nu suport inca o noapte ca noaptea trecuta. Hotaratu-m-am ca nu sunt de fier in ciuda tuturor presupunerilor mele.

Buna dimineata, copii.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Apr 06, 2004 11:24 pm

How did we manage
To get so far off and astray?
Temptation to desire
From the very first day

Our entire world has been inverted
For the simplicity of life
We have perverted
.
Nu aveţi permisiunea de a vizualiza fişierele ataşate acestui mesaj.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Apr 07, 2004 12:11 pm

... I am never-ending, my friend. I am, a continuous work in progress.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Vin Apr 09, 2004 4:12 pm

...whistle me a happy tune, cowboy, and lets ride into the sunset...

... Pentru ca in fond si la urma urmei, de ce sa nu-l las pe el sa conduca? Am obosit de atata luptat si dirijat, m-am hotarat: imi iau vacanta. El e ca mine; incapatanat, determinat, invatat, terminat, *confuzat* si cam ciudat. El va fi r e g e, iar eu voi fi regina. El va fi in frunte, eu voi sta in umbre. El va visa, eu voi dormi. Si totusi parca ceva nu ma lasa sa renunt in fata lui. Nu pot sa ma retrag asa usor. Ma vor sfasia ceilalti odata ce cobor de pe calul meu (n e g r u) inalt. Atat asteapta. In special ea. Ea ma pandeste, ma vaneaza. Imi miroase slabiciunea si o mananca palmele de anticipatie. Nu. Nu ii pot lasa sa ma invinga. El va trebui sa astepte. Va trebui sa asedieze castelul in continuare. Peretii se vor prabusi atunci cand vreau eu. Calul meu (inalt)n e g r u isi scutura coama violent si incepu sa se vaite.
"Taci bestie trista!", ii urlu, "Daca nu ma mai cari pe mine in spate, tot o sa-l cari pe el, asa ca nu te mai plange."

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Lun Apr 12, 2004 3:53 pm

...Everything you've ever heard about England and rain is true. What they don't tell you is that there are a million different types of rain. Kind of like how the Inuit up in Canada have two hundred words for snow; British English should have a hundred words for rain. There were the nice summer showers that made you act silly and dance in fountains to kill the humidity. Those should be called fiddly or pixins. There were April rains that were perfect for sipping something hot while you talked with your friends. They should be called nooz or frooz, something long and lazy. The fall thunder storms, powerful, frightening and erotic would have names that burned through paper...

Lipsa de control asupra actiunilor mele ma sperie. Impulsivitate. Blestem.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Apr 13, 2004 11:08 pm

Deschide attachementul.
Nu aveţi permisiunea de a vizualiza fişierele ataşate acestui mesaj.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Joi Apr 15, 2004 10:28 am

Can you hear the violins playing, darling? Can you see the mist rising, darling? Can you taste the rotten air around us? You can, can't you, darling... You know our time is up.

Stii, azi am aflat ca Luci a plecat in Canada. Hmf. O sa-mi fie dor de el, nu pentru ca mi-a fost vreodata prieten foarte bun sau apropiat - defapt, dupa ce s-a despartit de Ana, abia daca ne mai salutam si atunci saluturile se limitau la un "buna" mormait repede, in trecere, sau mici inclinari ale capului in directia celuilalt, care spuneau doar "da, te cunosc, te-am vazut, te recunosc" - dar pentru ca o sa-mi fie dor de serile alea in Bolta, cand Luci la bar fiind, selecta numai cea mai buna muzica. O sa-mi fie dor, cred, de Haggard Night din fiecare luni seara sau de melodia noastra preferata de la Therion, Siren of the woods, pe care o ascultam aproape in fiecare miercuri seara pe la 11:30. Da, o sa-mi fie dor de Luci.

Can you hear the violins playing, darling? Can you, darling? Can you? You know our time is up.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Apr 20, 2004 8:10 pm

foolish are the games we play,
useless is our winding way.
still we churn and break and bend,
hoping it would never end.


poezia proasta e singurul lucru care mi-a mai ramas. si ma bucur.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Apr 21, 2004 7:57 pm

Ceea ce e chiar ciudat e ca nu mai tin minte ultima oara cand am fost atat de fericita. In 15 ani, dintre care doar ultimii 5 au fost marcati de evenimente majore, am avut putine perioade de fericire prosteasca. Inainte nu eram nefericita. Nu eram trista si nici deprimata. Dar parca simteam ca traiesc degeaba. Eram goala. Eram plictisita. Acum e altfel. Ma simt incredibil: exuberanta, amuza(n)ta, vesela, optimista, fericita. Da, sunt fericita. Parca acum sunt cineva cu care nu m-am mai intalnit de mult timp, de care aproape am uitat dar a carei fata imi e incredibil de cunoscuta. Sunt eu si totusi nu sunt eu. Nu mai vreau sa fiu eu. Vreau sa fiu fericita tot timpul.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Apr 27, 2004 10:14 am

66 Cigarette stories
One;

I quickly grabbed the pack of cigarettes and my trusty lighter and exited the room. I chose the narrow hallway in front of me as the place where I would soon enjoy a cigarette. The ritual remained unchanged: take a cigarette out, balance it on my dry lips, light it, hear the tobacco burn while I inhale, watch the smoke morph in my exhale. In the ashtray that I held in my hand, there were pieces of plastic, left over from God knows what experiment the guys tried. And as my cigarette slowly came closer to them, the plastic came to life. I teased the pieces with the fire-bearing tip of my cigarette. One of them arched, like a woman's body in ecstasy, slowly, sensually. Another one crunched into a fetal position, as if to escape the heat of the burning tip of tobacco. The last piece however, did nothing. It let my cigarette burn holes through it's body, without moving. That last piece of plastic reminded me of myself, and the way I accept my downcome with stoic carelesness. I butted the cigarette out on the other pieces that had played my game, and either avoided or embraced the firey death I had served them. I looked at the third piece, burnt, scared. I wondered if that's my fate. I wondered if I should start playing the game.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Mai 02, 2004 1:49 am

Nu cred ca mai inteleg ceva. Nu mai am chef nici de tigari, nici de alcool, nici de amor. Vreau sa dorm.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Mai 02, 2004 10:03 pm

- Si stii ce ma deranjeaza?
- Ce ?
- Ca nu mai am nimic de spus! Vrei sa-ti vorbesc? O sa-ti vorbesc. Despre ce? Despre cat de nefericita si deprimata sunt? Sau despre cat de fericita sunt? Despre timp? Despre dragoste? Despre situatia socio-politica a Romaniei? Despre cat de scarba imi e de politicieni, rasisti si ignoranti? Despre muzica? Despre ce? Vrei sa te distrez? O sa te distrez. O sa iti povestesc intamplarile haioase de ieri. O sa te fac sa razi. O sa iti ofer un spectacol adevarat. Ca intotdeauna. Pentru ca defapt, asta sunt eu pentru tine, si pentru voi toti... un monolog amuzant, in fiecare vineri, sambata si duminica seara. Ha ha ha. Hai razi si tu cu mine. Ai ras inainte, acum nu mai ai chef?

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Mai 05, 2004 10:17 pm

10 Vieti Paralele

Doi
Wednesday, May 05, 2004 ;
I've always told people who came to me for help, that the only help I could give them was letting them know that if they didn't help themselves, no one would do it for them. Which makes me one of the lowest forms of hypocrites, because I've always wanted and needed to be saved. And right now, I need you to save me, because if you can't, no one can.

- Inhale - Exhale - Sleep -

Come on, tears. I feel you coming, come on down my cheeks. Come on, tears, I need to feel release.

- Inhale - Exhale - Sleep -

I felt like a stone. Cold and sinking. Maybe I had forgotten how to cry, but I wouldn't find peace until I'd learn how to feel again.

Unu
Tuesday, May 04, 2004 ;
I laughed in his face, my laughter more malicious than amused.
- You actually think Hope is still here?
My tone grew colder as I ended the sentence.
- There is no Hope here, hero. There are only Pain and Glory.
By the time I spoke the last word, it was bitter.
- And should you search for your pathetic romantic ideals further, you'll waste your time.
- Well, he said, time is all I have.
And with that he exited the comand room. A small smile played on my lips. Perhaps a challenge had finally arrived.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Vin Mai 07, 2004 2:15 pm

Trei
Friday, May 06, 2004;

It must have been between 12:45 AM and 1:00 AM when I couldn't stand the annoying cold that nipped at my hands and feet and woke up. I opened my eyes only to face complete and utter darkness. It was a strange darkness, it made the room seem endless, boundless like space, but at the same time it was constricting as if it was closing in on me, pushing me against the bed. I looked towards the window to see if the streetlights were on, and thankfully, they were. But looking around the neighbouring houses I found that no lights were on anywhere. It was a power outtage, probably caused by the raging thunder storm that had been blustering outside for a couple of hours.

I sighed, and it was so cold, my breath turned to vapour, swirling in the small shread of pale light that creeped in through the window and then dissapearing into the dark. I shivered again before lifting myself from my bed and searched for an extra blanket. I stumbled through the pitch-black bedroom, knocking my legs on everything that lay in my way. Upon finding another blanket I returned to the bed, not bothering to avoid hitting my knee against the heater on the way, and threw myself ungraciously onto the soft matress.

For the next few minutes I turned and twisted, trying to go back to sleep, but my efforts proved futile. Useless as my struggles were, they infuriated me to no end and I finally gave up, sighing in defeat. I grabbed the pack of Kent 8 that lay innocently on my desk and settled more comfortably into the pillows and layers that were sprawled on my bed. Lighting up a cig and taking a drag, I shivered again. Not much because of the cold, but because of the guilt that rushed through me. I remember when I was 15 and my friends told me I'd end up a nevrotic smoker and me telling them that they were talking bollocks. Or when I had promised that I'd never smoke again and after two weeks I was smoking a fag I nicked from my mom. Yes, smoking was always a problem vice for me, as opposed to countless others that I indulged in with much pleasure and no thought whatsoever. Maybe that's what made smoking my strangest addiction. It wasn't the nicotine or the compulsive need to do occupy my time, it wasn't trying to keep up with trends and friends, it was more the ideea of having a vice. Having an addiction, that although could kill you, wouldn't do it as fast as any other. So I was addicted more to the ideea than to the drug itself. Just another element that proves I am one screwed up individual.


Patru
Monday, January 05, 2004;

Having achieved getting a little over five hours of sleep, I found myself unable to crush the alarm clock that seemed to mock me with it's annoying, incessant electronic buzzing and that was positioned just out of my reach. It took me a while to get my body to move from it's cozy position between pillows and sheets and it took me even more to realise how cold it was in my room. I frowned as my skin turned to goose-bumps and I started to shiver. Outside, the winter twilight had barely appeared from the darkness of the night, and a few snowflakes were falling graciously from the sky.

The neon lights hesitated before fully awakening to light up my kitchen. In an automatic string of actions I had removed the old coffee from the filter, replaced it, put water in the tank for three cups and turned on the coffee machine. And then, just like during every other morning, I would wait by the fridge, silently. The waiting never really bothered me that much. I think it was the waiting that woke me up before the coffee everytime. As I started to hear the steam cluttering out of the machine, I mentally looked over my schedule for today.

The first working day of the year... Monday, January 5th. It always was a busy day. I had to leave home at 10:30AM and return at 7:30PM. During this time I had countless places to scramble to and various assignments to complete. I groaned. It was going to be one of the longest days of my life.

Finally the coffee was ready. And as I prepared my mug, I couldn't help but smile bitterly at my own routine.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Lun Mai 10, 2004 10:16 pm

Cinci
Luni, 10 Martie, 2004

A doua zi, m-am simtit goala, atat de goala, ca pachetul de L&M de pe masa din fata mea. Nici nu mi-am dat seama cand le fumasem pe toate, in special stiind ca nu mi-au placut niciodata. Prima oara cand am fumat L&M aveam 15 ani si puneam toti bani sa luam un amarat de pachet la 26.000. Dar iar schimbam subiectul... era ciudat ca atunci, exact cand vroiam ma concentrez asupra unui singur lucru, imi zbura gandul catre alte meleaguri. Revenind, ma simteam si eram goala pe dinauntru. Euforia de moment trecuse de cateva ore bune si lasase in urma doar o senzatie dura de discomfort, uimire poate chiar si un iz de greata. Apoi mi-am dat seama ca nici celalalt nu era diferit. Fusese pasiune de moment, tandrete trecatoare si apoi un gol mare ce nu inceta sa se intinda in sufletul meu. Nici cel de dinaintea lui nu fusese altfel. Si nici celalalt. Pentru mine, toti fusesera la fel. La fel.

Sase
Marti, 11 Martie, 2004

Mi-a zis ca sunt boema! Ma simt boema! Respir boem, arat boem, lucrez boem, pictez boem, visez boem! Sunt o artista! Boema! Sunt diferita, unica, speciala, creativa! Sunt inteligenta, rapida, carismatica si amuzanta! Cred si eu ca mi-a zis ca sunt boema, doar sunt o artista!
Seara, cand am ajuns acasa, m-am incuiat in camera cu DEXul si am cautat cu emotie definitia cuvantului boem.


Si acum, in afara celor 10 vieti paralele, va vorbesc/scriu/tastez chiar eu(pe bune!) Din pacate, in afara celor 10 oameni tristi si deranjati, nu am prea multe de spus.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Sâm Mai 22, 2004 2:17 pm

Unii spun ca sunt intangibila, distanta, imfumurata, aroganta. Altii spun ca sunt prietenoasa, deschisa, sociabila, glumeata. Ma intreb: oare, de ce ma cunosc ceilalti mai bine decat ma cunosc eu insami?

Sapte
Sambata, 22 Martie, 2004

Intotdeauna mi-a fost frica de cer, desi l-am si iubit. Daca stateam in picioare si ma uitam in sus, ma simteam atat de aproape de cer, incat de indrazneam sa intind o mana il puteam atinge. Eram atat de aproape de el, incat noaptea puteam sa jur ca stelele-mi erau nestemate pe coroana, iar norii mantie. Noaptea, sub cer, eram r e g e. Dar ma speriam atunci cand, stand intinsa pe acoperis, cladirile ce ma ancorau de lumea aceasta dispareau din vazul meu si ma lasau singura in fata cerului nemarginit de blocuri, lumini sau turnuri.
Nu stiu exact de ce imi era frica de el atunci, dar acum, dupa mult timp, mi-am dat seama ca nu cerul insusi ma speria, ci libertatea nesfarsirii lui. Atunci cand parca ma inghitea infinititatea lui. Libertatea dobandita prin abandonul lumii mele. Dar eu, am fost si sunt un simplu om, iar libertatea adevarata nu imi e menita.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Dum Mai 30, 2004 10:46 am

...Ride on cowboy, ride on into my little town and maybe you'll want to stay...

Intr-un orasel in care trecerea timpului e marcata doar data schimbatoare de pe display-ul de pe micuta primarie din centru, nu ai cum sa nu te simti inutil, batran si plictisit. Nici anotimpurile nu se mai deosebesc, iarna si toamna amestecandu-se in ninsori si ploi, vara si primavara confundandu-se printre zilele caniculare si zile friguroase. Aici, oamenii nu imbatranesc si nu mor, si cei din cimitire dorm. Totul aici pare cuprins de o rutina la care toti oamenii s-au conformat si pe care acum o urmeaza zilnic, resemnati. Numai noi, cei tineri care inca n-au invatat ce inseamna aceasta rutina ce acapareaza orice fiinta din oras, ne credem liberi. Dar si noi incet, incet ne dam seama ca nu diferim cu nimic.
Ieri seara, ca in fiecare sambata seara de cateva luni incoace, am stat la 7 Banci, si am realizat ca daca nu plecam din orasul asta acum, vom fi sufocati de el si de boala transmisa de la generatie la generatie ce este aceasta rutina atotcuprinzatoare. Avem o singura sansa sa plecam din locul asta blestemat, si avem de gand sa profitam de ea.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mie Iun 02, 2004 7:00 pm

Arta contemporana, cantitativ, este obeza. Artistii sunt multi, participa si produc, dar aceasta participare la activitatea sociala e mai mult mecanica decat independenta. Ca bacteriile, artistii se agita, produc mult, dar o fac printr-un mecanism automat, din nevoia de a supravietui si deci de a se integra in sistemul capitalist. Arta insasi acum face parte acest sistem, orice e artistic e vandabil, deci e in interesul companiilor sa incurajeze artistii sa creeze. Fie prin sponzorizari, fie prin angajari, companiile au preluat monopolul asupra artei. Atunci cand un artist creeaza pentru o companie, arta lui nu devine decat un produs, modelat pentru a fi receptat cu usurinta de mainstream. Presiunea exercitata asupra artistilor sa creeze(deci sa vanda) este motivul pentru care arta lor este creata repede si dupa un tipar ce ii garanteaza succesul in randul consumatorilor, deci fara o adevarata valoare in afara celei monetare. Sponsorizarile acestor companii nu fac altceva decat sa fure din personalitatea artistului, fara ca acesta sa-si dea seama, obligand astfel arta sa se auto-distruga pentru a-si mentine prezenta in societate. Nimic nu mai este original, orice e nou si inedit este imediat impachetat si trimis catre toate magazinele, afisat in toate vitrinele, noua moda in toate revistele.
Creativitatea, acum, nu mai este sacra, un drept numai al zeilor si artistilor, ci unul dintre cele mai bine-vandute bunuri. Mariile companii folosesc imaginea artistului pentru campaniile publicitare, creind produse-"creativitate intr-o cutie". Produsele de genul asta sunt foarte populare in randul publicului fascinat de imaginea mitica a artistului si cu care, cumparand aceste produse-minune, se pot identifica.
Arta contemporana este, defapt, un cadavru.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Mar Iun 08, 2004 8:18 pm

Am terminat de citit Portretul lui Dorian Gray de Oscar Wilde. Cat de mult a putut sa ma rascoleasca aceasta carte, numai cei ce, la fel ca mine, au o mica particica din Dorian Gray in ei, pot intelege. Numai ca eu sunt pe-atat Dorian Gray cat si Lord Henry Wotton. Eu mi-am creat drumul pe care urmandu-l am ajuns sa-mi pierd principiile si idealurile nobile, si nu pot invinui influentele altora asupra mea pentru greselile comise. Poate ca daca eu imi ascultam ingerul de pe umarul drept, si daca Dorian il asculta pe Basil, nu ajungeam nici unul in situatia in care ne gasim fiecare.

M-a speriat intotdeauna, si ma va speria pana in ziua in care va veni sa ma ia, moartea. Nu ma sperie durerea ce o implica si nici nu imi e frica de ceea ce va urma apoi, chit ca aceasta urmare se va rezuma la nimic. Ma sperie faptul ca nu sunt deosebita, ca moartea mea va fi ca oricare alta si ca voi muri mediocra. Ma sperie faptul ca sunt inutila, si ca lumea nu ar tresari si nu s-ar schimba cu nimic odata cu disparitia mea. Ma sperie faptul ca sunt pe drumul ratarii, si ca traiesc dupa un tipar tocit de atatea vieti traite dupa el. Ma sperie faptul ca, chiar de as fi unica si speciala, nimanui nu i-ar pasa. Ma sperie faptul ca traiesc degeaba si ca nimeni nu ma poate ajuta.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

Mesajde darkshines » Sâm Iun 12, 2004 1:11 pm

Sunt momente in care vreau sa spun atat de multe incat nu stiu cum sau unde sa incep si cum sa continuu, stiind doar sfarsitul acelui fir lung de cugetari lipsite de noima dar lirice prin pompozitatea limbajului pe care si-l insusesc, si care transferate pe hartie devin explozii de culoare si simtiri, frumoase prin spontanietatea lor, apreciate de cei ce le pot intelege. Sunt alte momente, in care nu sunt in stare sa gandesc sau sa spun nimic important sau coerent, in care gandurile ce imi invadeaza stramtul spatiu intra-cranian mi le tin pentru mine stiind ca lumii nu ii pasa - daca i-a pasat vreodata de ceva - de ele sau de ce inseamna pentru mine. Acum, este unul dintre acele momente, in care sunt cufundata intr-o liniste bizara, renegandu-mi propriile convingeri doar pentru ca stiu ca nu sunt destul de bune pentru ceilalti. Si atunci, nu sunt eu, acum, o lasa?

A, da, si am un cos in frunte.

To speak is to be silent
The concept is dead. There's nothing death should interrupt,
I went to bed last night with one sip left in the cup.
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darkshines
 
Mesaje: 2260
Membru din: Joi Aug 02, 2001 11:00 pm

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