Mismatch
Sometimes, when you are really down and need a hug and a massage, all life has to offer is a blow job. Which is worth passing if you can see the face of the blower when you say no, thank you.
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Partial de-freezing
A partial de-freezing is everything my mother has taught me not to do. Armed with a knife one nervously attacks the ice, making sure one doesn’t hurt oneself too bad. One will stop when the freezer’s door fits right back in place when closed.
So T has left, it’s been two days. I haven’t cried (too much), and definitely not in public. But it happens at the movies when I think it really should not be the case. Like Billy Eliot. But I make it a rule not too cry like a girlie. So I rush to the bathroom, where I cry like the bearded girlie I am.
I am dreaming episodes of a sitcom. Every new episode takes you to the next floor, where they are installing yet another computer facility in lobby. You see, the hotel is new and not yet done. The manager is played by this actress, very defensive, whatever you might want when you approach her it’s always cause for some sort of hysterical excuse that doesn’t have to do with what you’re saying.
Also my Sony is dying. The condolence book is open.
De veghe in lanul de madlene
Dear English speaking reader, I apologise for the untranslatable title of today. As my boyfriend is adding a continent to our relation, I am ransacking the house trying to put some order in my life. It’s, of course, taking more time than expected. The only standing parallel is a crossbreed between J.D.Salinger’s “Catcher in the rye” and Proust’s little cookie. Well, my apartment is a field of cookies and I am telling you: some will go away! Don’t fret, anybody, I am still married.
I stand corrected
Although I am rather skinny, I have discovered much to my surprise, read annoyance, that my muscles hurt under a thinker then expected blankie of fat(!).
What goes through my head (it’s not a bullet!)
My new life means, among others, more plain water, more visits to the toilette, more pain in the abdomen. My old life refuses to let go this way: more tasks less time equation, more burning the midnight oil on the desk in the office. It’s fun to be me.
Cabbage (Romanian "varza")
Romanian speaking readers are kindly invited to read, laugh and pay attention to
this. Brilliant. Touched on one of my (few) obsessions.
T is about to leave far and away. Six months trial.
These are the last days of January. I have not written a line of my thesis. Sometime (when?) in February I am supposed to deliver (what?).
Imminence, without full realization… I might just be an expert in avoidance.
My list of questions is getting longer. Also my to do list. The light at the end of the tunnel is, once again, a train.
Numbers
Clearing the fridge of last year’s history…
Bash. Have I seen this?
Elena Baguci on the cover of Tabu. Been to the seaside for the Fat Boy Slim and Tabu’s special on bars and clubs.
Horrid postcard. Won’t give details. Been on the fridge for less then two weeks now.
Pirates of the Caribbean. Deadman’s Chest. Good. Next?
Anim’est teaser and Anim’est. Missed it.
Blue woman hand washing. Acrylic on paper. Trinidad. I was just passing through what appeared to be the Swiss of the Caribbean.
Postcard for AIDS’ Day. T’s idea of a present card.
Paris. Paris Hilton. Wtf?!?
Achtung Zebra. Yellow on black, like the contrast, can’t remember where I picked it up. Read on the back: Vienna. Duh!
The Mission bracelet. See above about Baguci.
Depeche Mode’s Touring Angel. Wow.
Heat ticket. Lavelle in Oradea. Not only that.
Solo on line. Vava. National Theater Festival. Cried.
Fat Boy Slim ticket.
Billy Idol ticket.
Fusion presents summer school. Summer party 
Silent disco. Nicole’s birthday. Missed it. The silent disco, not the birthday party.
My pics in Timeout. vava.
L’oubli. Vava.
Laetitia Carton’s open letters. Loved them. Missed the exhibition. Hilarious.
Paul van Dyk. Missed it.
Fat Boy Slim. Again. Been there once.
Final Fantasy. VII. Are you sure it’s final?
A fost sau n-a fost. I was there.
Placebo. Sure!
Me on the InfoBrit cover. And twenty more people…
Romanian National Museum of Art. I should go there more often.
Joaquin Cortes. Body. Dance. Attitude. I only had a problem with the attitude part.
Buena Vista - The Havana Lounge. Party like you are sixty something.
TmBase after party exclusive. OK, this was late 2005.
Legaturi bolnavicioase. Not sick at all.
Cesaria. Evora. Face to face.
Moving movies
Callendar gurl turned royal worked. I for one think
Helen Mirren IS
The Queen. I did not recognize her at first. I am not very good with faces, am I? Watching the movie late in the night without falling asleep despite my busy work schedule should tell you something. Things I have in commom with the Queen: using the odd person when formulating sentenes. For example “One does not want to be rude”. I too send congratulations to the lucky clumsy red neck blue collar who manages to shoot my stag. And… that’s all.
It’s been a busy week, but I have great help now, and I have been heavy on the movies. So.
For the adrenalyn junky within, Apocalypto keeps you in the seat for the whole two hours approximately, even if after the first fifteen minutes you must go indiferently numb at the amount of jugular sprung liquid, with the occasional throb for the fain hearted, like myself. Nice colours, good tempo, it sells. Does the opening seem digital to you too?
I have finally found out what language must’ve been there in the opening scence of 13 - Tzameti. Georgian. I saw the movie at George’s invitation. Coincidence. A refreshingly non-American production, and not necessarily French either, I loved it for being in sharp black and white, story well told, insinuating music theme to accompany it, crazy and stupid as life sometimes can get. Ruletistul by Cartarescu, anyone?
The screening of Babel was quite unexpected for me. Also very late in the night. I don’t remember why I wanted to see this one initially, but my dozing vanished the moment the movie began. The Americans sort of get it, well everybody else gets it in this movie. But, as usually, the Americans get their happy ending. Not the others. Interesting how the interrelated stories manage to touch current topics like: (Mexican) immigration, (Arab) terrorism, depression, suicide, social sense of inadequacy and marginalization in the higly developed countries. It also made me reflect on the implications on the characters’ life after I figured the actual timeline of the story. Clever. It features a mature(d) sex symbol, a fetish actor, a diva, and manga exotic to mainstream hopeful.
Quote of the month
By
Hiroaphasia: “point the first: I am not clever, I’m charming”. Absolutely! (Me too 
Ex-by line
I have the know how to say yes in one thousand ways without uttering the word. That doesn’t make me a yesman, it makes me a consultant and it’s part of the oxymoron.
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(C)
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