Thursday 30 October 2008

Small world

No, I'm not talking about Pratchett's novel, but about the fact I ran into somebody today. No, not with the car - that's Bear's specialty, but on the subway station.
Actually, I've never met the guy personally. But when I saw him, he looked very familiar. I knew I saw him somewhere before.
Yeah, he's the one! He's the never-met-before husband of a former university colleague.
I have no idea what I was doing on my HI5 profile one day and I stumbled upon her profile. Oh, how nice, let's see how she's doing. Oh, how nice, photos. Oh, how nice, she got married. Oh, how nice, she looks so nice here. Oh, how nice, she changed her haircut. Oh, how... how... how... ew! Is that her husband?
Why does he have a pony-tail with a hair that long that it reaches his skinny ass? Why is he so skinny? Why does he smoke so much? Why does he have an Amorphis T-shirt? Why hasn't he gotten over his "black loser rocker period" until the age of 29?
And now, here I was, standing next to him in the metro, shoulder to shoulder, pink sweater to black sweater, fluffy ass to flat ass. I kept staring, like I would have been about to ask him "How's your wife? Still working there?"


This reminds me of an old story, it happened about 8 years ago, when I met a guy on the train, coming from Constanta to Bucharest. We started talking, at one point I mentioned a cousin I haven't seen that summer because of an argument, he asked me more questions about her, I almost described her as a slut. Later he asked me if my cousin's name was..., I felt like fainting on the spot, I asked him how he knew and told me he was... her boyfriend. He recognized me the moment he saw me, he had seen me in pictures.

P.S. I forgot to mention the fact that the neolithic husband had quite long fingernails at both hands. Please tell me he's playing the guitar...


Friday 24 October 2008

Cicalaca cichi cea

Haules, neamule! Haules la tot rumanu! Si pazea! Ca si-a luat gagica celulos d-ala ciumeg, negricios si uscatziv. Are el invelisu cam nelucios si-mi raman urmele de deshte pe el, dar ce mai conteste? E aproape moca si am minute fara numar, fara numar, sa vorbesc cu gagicul meu, care are celulos si mai bashtan ca al meu. Negru, cu un metal argintiu ca oglinda, numa bun sa-si faca freza in tramvai, pe ritmuri de... nu, nu de Gutza,manca-ti-as, ci de Jimi. Hendrix care este.
Iar gagica, adica eu care este, poa'sa se ia in piept (hm...) cu manelarii, caci pentru ca in pleilistu meu shade la loc de cinste Barosanu Bach.
Si partea cea mai mishtoaka, e ca pot sa trag in poza orice pitzipoanca si pitziponc care ma oftica.

Valoarea mea, valoarea mea...

Si acum, de la mine pentru viata mea, il invit pe domnu Gutza si pe donshoara Denisa sa ne cante din tot sufletul lor tuciuriu. I-auzi:

Glasul tau l-aud mereu

Cand suna telefonul meu

Si cand somnul nu mai ia

Ma alina vocea ta.

A-s da timpul inapoi

Pentru un an sau poate doi,

Din iubire pentru amandoi

Suna-ma sau da-mi un beep

Ca vreau sa te aud un pic

Macar un pic

Ca acolo unde esti,

Tu sigur ca ma iubesti

Si la mine te gandesti

Oooo.



Thursday 23 October 2008

L i t e r e

Am dat la facultatea de Litere. Are multe hibe facultatea de Litere. Are si lucruri, sau mai degraba oameni, care fac sa merite faptul ca urmezi totusi facultatea de Litere. Acesti oameni creeaza si perpetueaza spiritul facultatii de Litere, fara de care aceasta ar fi doar o masina de tocat creiere si sanatati.

Asadar, datorita acestui spirit, sunt mandra ca am terminat facultatea de Litere. Datorita acestui spirit inca mi se face pielea de gaina cand aud ca se petrece ceva legat de facultatea de Litere si de oamenii ei - profesori sau fosti colegi.

Astfel am tresarit cand am inceput sa rasfoiesc un numar din Pana mea- un pariu literar, dedicat facultatii de Litere, in care am recunoscut chipuri si locuri.

Astfel m-am emotionat cand am primit o antologie de poezii cu autograful Dianei Geacar.

Astfel ma bucura orice mesaj de la profesoara mea preferata, Antoaneta Tanasescu, un maestru al spiritului.

Astfel m-am intristat ca Domnul Dan Horia Mazilu nu va mai putea preda niciodata bobocilor despre cronici si hameleoni.

Astfel ma amuz cu Costi Rogozanu de fiecare cand il vad, in presa sau la TV.

Astfel m-am entuziasmat de Delia, sefa noastra de promotie, care a ajuns preparator la catedra de Teoria Literaturii, unde visam eu aiurea sa ajung prin anul I.

Astfel ard de nerabdare sa citesc Rubik, "prima autofictiune colectiva de pe meleagurile carpato-danubiano-pontice – şi nu numai!", semnata de studenti la Litere din generatia mea.


De fapt, toata aceasta introducere vroia sa fie o invitatie la citit. La citit "Rubik" sau orice alta carte din multimea de carti ce sade prafuita pe rafturile de acasa sau din librarii.
O instigare la a citi orice in afara de Can Can, cataloage Oriflame, etichete de preturi de la Zara, prospecte de vitamine si subtitrari de film.