Defuse, diffuse
Love notes and deadlines, broken skin, traffic ahead and dreading it, me and other vane people priced 700, 450, or 250, depending on the cover. Here is to traveling, here is to taking it one thing at the time. It’s hard to focus.
Entries Tagged as 'mixing like crazy'
Today
Doll, I’m fine.
The dog has put me to the ground today. We were rollerblading in the park. My foot hurts now. It didn’t then. Anyways.
I got a mohawk haircut. A bit tilted. But it’s fun. It’s supposed to be that way. Fun, and tilted.
“What has inspired you to do that?”, he asked. “Not having to see clients”, I replied promptly. “I do FTP these days.”
The other absolutely extraordinary piece of news is that Parov Stelar has messaged me on Twitter, suggesting junodownload.com, when I have complained that his album is not available on iTunes Romania. So, here I am at 3 in the morning, listening to that, his latest release, Coco. After the call from the bank checking the validity of the internet card transaction. Pretty amazing stuff. Pretty good release!
Let me post a picture of the un-named one 
It’s been such a day. Move that to the left. No, too much, more to the right. Make that bold. Can we have it regular? I think it should be easier to spot that bit, maybe turn it into bold font, what do you think? kinda manoovering… but I’m smiling. I know the client. I know the material.
I AM the elephant
“So do you know how one eats an elephant?”, she asked smilingly while I was freaking out because my multitasking, lack of patience and partly procrastination were again working against me. It was of course a rhetoric question, a pretext for the, in this case, answer known to her and unknown to me, so she continued: “Piece by piece”.
So I came up with the title.
Art is all around, between me and my friends we have covered the world
And, in fact, I just wanted to let you know I don’t trust a man with petite feet, nor one with a long nail on his pinkie. So this is another post that almost randomly associates images - from my head directly to yours.
This is a special day
Because, so far it’s been a year since our love at first sight. And you still rock my world.
Also it’s the birthday of a friend and reader. Happy birthday, you know who you are.
And on top of that last night I had a little bit too much to drink, which lead to being a bad guest and to insomnia again. Let me tell you , Bucharest streets at six on a Friday the morning are pretty lively as I was hovering towards my own bed ridden with hangover.
I am not taking it personally
You not answering to my email fails to communicate how busy you are. But instead it gives me the full measure of the importance you attach to me.
(Today I have said “I love you, I miss you, get better”, and cried, because I don’t think it’s gonna happen, slept an irregular pattern, dreamed of the Cabinet, been in a meeting and feeling good, might’ve caught a cold, and did a myriad of other less significant things.)
Brief update of deeds
I have killed a bug. I believe bugs can travel long distances in a shoe, pocket or bag. If so, mine are coming straight from Medias, the land of love. Again, if so, before dying its atrocious death, the bug has been traveling with the speed of 138 km/hour according to the car manufacturer, or 131 km/hour according to the satellite connected to my GPS device.
Some devirtualization has occurred, which pushed me into a very interesting process called thinking. I like that, it makes me feel creative. Also, a bit weird, but not as weird as the photo situation.
In the more productive department, I have dusted my magazine shelves. A lot of magazines are currently spending the night in front of my door, at the mercy of the cleaning lady. However I could not part with the likes of GQ, Vogue, Blue and a couple kilos of other pure glamour. A good opportunity to muse over somebody I have erased from my life, but on whose stuff I keep stumbling. I have been advised to remain a true gentleman, so I will try to.
And finally there should be a phrase about writing, about all the writing I have lately aborted, about the craving for writing, and of course about the satisfaction writing brings.
Race you to nowhere
And I am going to win ’cause I’ve got a head start. I have been angry, and sad, and envious, and totally unproductive.
Writing about totally irrelevant things and ranting
While the world is in rehearsals for the end of the world, actually they have just started about a half an hour ago, or fussing about the higher political-agenda-and-the-future-of-mankind, I have a tendency to write about totally irrelevant things.
I intend to carry on.
I get satisfaction walking past the car stuck in the traffic jam.
I am increasingly disenchanted with the city, if I ever were.
Riding the subway stimulates my thinking process.
I can be an acute observer. Only sometimes I also have to participate.
I hate it when the road police who never do their job decide to start doing it and start with the poor guy whose car broke 5 meters away from the traffic light, it’s not in the way, and the driver is busily sweating under the car hood to fix it. Guys! if you have suddenly discovered your balls, try them with the “BMW drivers” in this city!
I am leaving again.
I am not sure about having a job in the very close future. I also don’t know exactly what I’d like.
Nuances
It’s “so far, so good”, instead of “sooo good, so far”. There are a lot of reasons for that. Like the fact the one of the guard monkeys grabbed my arm. I say learn English, learn some manners, then get paid to be a bodyguard. Anyways, nothing serious. Some of the festival staff is really good and effective. Like the guy who apologized for the guard.
So that would explain why I have started drinking beer as early as ten something in the morning. Or wouldn’t it?
Can I complain about the dust. About the little motorinoes? They are everywhere, inserting themselves in every little space available. I am talking both about the dust and the little motor bikes. Since there is nothing much I can do about the dust, I thought of just pushing the riders as they pass me by. Criminal instinct, huh?
So yesterday was the first busy day. Kaiser Chiefs made my day. “That’s a nice one, BUCHAREST”. The Romanian crowd was ecstatic. The Hungarians were like “What was that? Neah”. So that was the highlight of a day that included, dozing in the ambient tent, excellent music and sound, a indie-underground American movie and a discussion with it’s director in the Magic Mirror, The graffiti artist - don’t bother unless you don’t have anything else better, the quite electric Fanfara Tirana, and the funny Finish unpronounceable Alamaailman Vasarat, a bit hard to digest in terms of music, but very humorous intros to their pieces, Kaiser Chiefs as you know them, Jamiroquai impaired by their own live sound, so we moved next door to Bob Marley’s son. You remember the cute little Ky-Mani? He is all grown up now.
The cherry on the pie was Szivkov Aleksszandr 6 minute dance. Great, entertaining, well-done, perfect moves and his body is a bonus. On the same occasion we watched another performance, that made us want to leave the room and move forward. Some tunisian guy, speaking French, of course, using a wheel chair. The dancing was good, but the piece was all together too long and “artistic”. We ended the night in a jazz note. Rhoda Scott is an American artist that plays an instrument that’s a cross between a piano and an organ and she does it with all her soul. Plus she had help from this incredible drum player. Makes me wanna be like that when I am older.
My twenty minutes are almost up. See you soon.
LATER EDIT: Thanks to Hotnews for linking me.
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