Nail biting
“im available only on 30th of february…
…rest of the days im busy”
Of course, a Gemini!
The date is approaching…
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I thought
This was meant for
the OMG post. For some reason it’s not there, but I am too lazy to research why. And how to place it proper.
On a later edit, I now have the pic in both post. A bit redundant.
About being gay
Dali said it best before me. The only difference between me and a heterosexual is that I am not a heterosexual. (Were I given a choice, I would not argue for gay marriage, but for coming out. The Romanian society is so much in the closet, it almost looks like it is totally sealed inside the box.)
OMG
I have found out
here, that I was nominated for a 12-year old whiskey courtesy of
Novac. (Excuse my cheekiness, is it a bottle or a glass?). I had to ask somebody to scrap me of the floor, where I was left flat with surprise. Rarely has my blog been associated to the Oscar. It might sound like I am making fun, but I really couldn’t believe it. Again, I accidentally found about it from
here. If it displays like it did when I looked at the page, you will most surely understand the torrent of emotions that flooded me.
So, really! thanks to Musculin for the nomination. Although I don’t feel I have the best blog. I don’t know who might have it. Mine just is. However, I do feel I have to elaborate a bit on the subject. Despite the introduction for my nomination ( here, check out no. 29 entitled Also Tina).
I have been here since August 2003. And boy! was I mixed up. My motivation, not really a credo, has changed over time. So did the posts. My breakup, my hate, all the wrong reasons, my love, disillusion, my coming out, everything is here. Not always in an obvious way, sometimes discretely cued, sometimes shouted out loud. From the longer picture less posts, to the one ( punch) liners. You won’t find any archives, because this blog is me, and I am now. The past is no longer me because it’s slightly different. In other words, trying to be your average brilliant individual, I do love oxymoron. (And, yeah, sometimes I do not make a lot of sense!)
Back to my nomination. Here are a couple of examples that must’ve well earn it; also for balance sake a couple which don’t exactly play along the lines.
In brief, I do expect all seven or so regular visitors of this site to go vote for me once voting is open on 25 February afternoon until 5 April 2006. THAT, or learn Romanian. Thank you..
Unsustainable
For perfecting your urban skills try the following exercise. You preferably need to be on a hurry down Magheru. Play Mirwais’ Disco Science on a portable device. Sound level should cover the background noise until the later is just a mere memory. Follow energetic midget leather man five steps behind him. Do not overtake. Refrain from laughing. In case you do, and someone gives you an odd look, assume it’s your weird haircut.
Of cocks and hens
Strolling down the street on one of our most downtown boulevards in Bucharest, I was first surprised to notice three hens and one rooster busily picking at seeds on a balcony of old villa. It must be part of the New Eclectic, the style we fashion in this prime European city, I thought. And I immediately regretted leaving my camera behind at home. Quite a first hand documenting photo it would have been! Alas, I did have to move along empty handed, as no other images eluded the surrounding reality, or the realm of my visual imagination. In plain English, there was little around that could impress you. I mean apart from those aggressively parked cars, like frozen mad beasts stoned in the very moment of their attack against the passers-by, their coats and common sense. They do get on my nerve. The cars, that is.
Have I mentioned it was a warm spring like late afternoon? Well, it was, and I was game for a quick snack. In other times I might have been a hunter. Can you imagine the tedious heavy preparation and process?! Thanks God for fast food. Not far in the woods, I mean not far from the square my trophy awaited. The place was deserted and unappealing with no crowd and no marketing to hide the fading goods on display: hard boiled eggs, lukewarm hot dogs, sleazy pickles, oily counter, and a trail of breadcrumbs. Fast forward and I am on my way back, just in time to see, no! hear a car crash involving an ambulance in the very place where a couple of diplomatic cars are usually colliding with reckless and always guilty as charged taxis. The occasional human victim was luckily busy somewhere else. I know riding the ambulance is almost never a joyride, but take my word, you don’t want to be riding one in Bucharest. Nor a taxi, for that matter. By now I was still hungry, it was getting dark and I was returning to work for some more or less heavy session. It was still Monday, a day that started with the call from the bank. They were announcing me I cannot cash the check because it is post-dated. Damn, I was really depending on the money to make it through this month. Somehow all this didn’t make the Roman Square appear more joyous under the heavy traffic and dirty cheap fair. I have been and seen better.
You need the key to read the coded text
My birthdate “is in constant”, according to
Wordcount. I, on the other side, am inconsistent.
Quality time
So I have been to the theater. Again. If Dabija and Rebengiuc sound more than familiar to Romanian theater goers, I promise you will hear more about Lelia Ciobotariu. As Molly Sweeney she gives a brilliant performance that should earn her coming awards and recognition. The Romanian text is signed by the one who has recently updated the Catcher in the rye for the new generation. Bottom line is you go and see for yourselves, if you have the chance.
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