Savage Garden – Truly, madly, deeply

I’ll be your dream
I’ll be your wish
I’ll be your fantasy.
I’ll be your hope
I’ll be your love
Be everything that you need.
I love you more with every breath
Truly madly deeply do..
I will be strong I will be faithful
‘Cos I’m counting on a new beginning.
A reason for living.
A deeper meaning.

I want to stand with you on a mountain.
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever.
Until the sky falls down on me…

And when the stars are shining brightly
In the velvet sky,
I’ll make a wish
Send it to heaven
Then make you want to cry..
The tears of joy
For all the pleasure and the certainty.
That we’re surrounded
By the comfort and protection of..
The highest power.
In lonely hours.
The tears devour you..

I want to stand with you on a mountain,
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever,
Until the sky falls down on me…

Oh can’t you see it baby?
You don’t have to close your eyes
‘Cos it’s standing right before you.
All that you need will surely come…

I’ll be your dream
I’ll be your wish
I’ll be your fantasy.
I’ll be your hope
I’ll be your love
Be everything that you need.
I’ll love you more with every breath
Truly madly deeply do…

placere?

Ce fain a inceput si ce scurt a fost!

Placere?

Pentru putinul timp cat a durat, n-a fost placere, a fost extaz!

Si astept continuarea.

Oare?

Dorul

Setos iti beau mirasma si-ti cuprind obrajii cu palmele-amindoua, cum cuprinzi în suflet o minune. Ne arde-apropierea, ochi în ochi cum stam. Si totusi tu-mi soptesti: “Mi-asa de dor de tine!” Asa de tainic tu mi-o spui si dornic, parc-as fi pribeag pe-un alt pamânt.

Femeie,
ce mare porti în inima si cine esti?
Mai cânta-mi inc-o data dorul tau,
sa te ascult
si clipele sa-mi para niste muguri plini,
din care infloresc aievea — vesnicii.

Smile

Smile tho’ your heart is aching,

Smile even tho’ it’s breaking,

When there are clouds in the sky

You’ll get by,

If you smile

thro’ your fear and sorrow,

Smile and maybe tomorrow,

You’ll see the sun come shin-ing thro’ for you

Light up your face with gladness,

Hide ev-’ry trace of sadness,

Al -’tho a tear may be ever so near,

That’s the time,

You must keep on trying,

Smile, what’s the use of crying,

You’ll find that life is still worth-while,

If you just smile…

The Great Gatsby

“I was still with Jordan Baker. We were sitting at a table with a man of about my age and a rowdy little girl, who gave way upon the slightest provocation to uncontrollable laughter. I was enjoying myself now. I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something sig­nificant, elemental, and profound.

At a lull in the entertainment the man looked at me and smiled.

‘Your face is familiar,’ he said politely. ‘Weren’t you in the First Division during the war?’

‘Why, yes. I was in the Twenty-eighth Infantry.’

‘I was in the Sixteenth until June nineteen-eighteen. I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.’

We talked for a moment about some wet, grey little villages in France. Evidently he lived in this vicinity, for he told me that he had just bought a hydroplane, and was going to try it out in the morning.

‘Want to go with me, old sport? Just near the shore along the Sound.’

‘What time?’

‘Any time that suits you best.’

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask his name when Jordan looked around and smiled.

‘Having a gay time now?’ she inquired.

‘Much better.’ I turned again to my new acquaintance. ‘This is an unusual party for me. I haven’t even seen the host. I live over there – ‘ I waved my hand at the invisible hedge in the distance, ‘and this man Gatsby sent over his chauffeur with an invitation.’

For a moment he looked at me as if he failed to understand.

‘I’m Gatsby,’ he said suddenly.

‘What!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’

‘I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I’m not a very good host.’

He smiled understandingly – much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced – or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favour. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished – and I was looking at an elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. “

Conversatii

Oare mai apreciaza cineva din ziua de azi frumusetea muzicii?

Adica VEDE cineva muzica? Nu sa o asculte…sa o auda… o mai vede? In adevaratul sens al cuvantului. Beethoven a scris a cincea simfonie la sfarsitul vietii sale, surd fiind. El da. Geniu. VEDEA muzica. Nu numai ca o asculta. O intelegea. Vorbea cu ea.

Nu va imaginati o conversatie obisnuita. El n-avea messenger si nici telefon mobil sa trimita mesaje. Imaginati-va ceva mult mai profund. O conversatie bazata pe fluctuatiile starilor de spirit. Vedea totul intr-un complex sistem 3D.

Eu unul sunt gelos. Da, chiar foarte. As vrea si eu sa pot vedea muzica. Sa pot vorbi cu ea asa cum o fac unii, cum o facea dansul. As vrea sa schimb pareri cu ea. Sa ii cer sfaturi chiar. Sa ma ajute. Sa ma consoleze. Sa fie acolo langa mine. Sa ma aline cu notele ponderate si delicate cand sunt suparat. Sa ma distreze cu ritmul ei accelerat. Sa stie sa ma enerveze cand o supar cu un distorse dragutz. Dar nu ar putea sa faca asta nici daca nu ar vrea. Asta e frumos.

Muzica cu care vorbesti tu e muzica care iti place! Muzica pe care o vezi e muzica ce se muleaza gusturilor tale. Cum ai putea altfel sa porti o conversatie elevata cu ea? Ar trebui sa o cunosti! Cum ai putea sa o cunosti?? O asculti,o vezi!!! E langa tine! Apreciati simturile, nu vor dura la nesfarsit!

Vorbiti cu ea! E acolo! ACOLO!

?

Sa scriu?

Sa nu scriu?

un cui si-o floare

Iata-l. Il vezi? E acolo, uita-te printre copaci, se uita in stanga si in dreapta… nu prea cred ca stie unde e… mai sunt si masinile astea cu zgomotul lor si agitatia din jur… te incurca mai mult decat sa te ajute!

A pornit…merge inainte, e de bine, macar are o destinatie… dar vad ca e suparat si trist… Uitandu-se spre cer, observa ca se intuneca…nu, e doar 10 dimineatza…dar incepe ploaia…pf, si ce ploaie. Saracul de el. Si nici nu e imbracat foarte bine. Sigur va face febra si va raci.

Macar merge mai repede acum, se ascunde ici colea sa gaseasca adapost de ploaie. Si reuseste cat de cat, pacat ca nu prea e atent… a calcat intr-un lemn plin de cuie. S-a intepat!!! Uite-l ca abia merge. Dar se descurca, nu se da batut. Tot ii da inainte sa ajunga acolo. Nu stiu unde exact, dar vad ca de mers tot merge, mai are putin si alearga, chit ca il doare rau piciorul.

Ia uite mah… a gasit parcul…acolo voia sa ajunga? Il vad mai de aproape acum, e ud leoarca si tuseste! Ti-am zis ca va raci, dar ia uite ca ii vad un pic de speranta pe fata! Se uita la parc ca si cum ar fi gasit ceva incredibil de frumos. Si sa vezi ce coincidenta, ploaia nici macar n-a durat mult. S-a si oprit. Hai sa il urmarim sa vedem unde merge.

Ei bine, vad ca nici aici nu are habar pe unde merge… aa ba da, stai asa…se duce departe de terase si si lumea agitata…gaseste campuletzul ala plin de flori! Hey! Tu vezi ce vad si eu?? Doamne, incredibil, se duce catre o fetita, care culege flori. Crezi ca am putea sa ii auzim? Nu stiu ce ar putea vorbi, au doar 7 ani cel mult fiecare.

“Buna! Ce faci?”

“Salut…ce sa fac…uite sunt suparat ca mi-a intrat un cui in picior si ca am facut febra, am racit rau”

“Eh…nu mai fi suparat, uite eu n-am nimica, culegeam niste flori. Vad ca tu esti cam suparat…asa ca ti le dau tie! Poftim sa iti treaca!:*”

“Merci frumos… sunt foarte dragutze…dar nu ar trebui sa iti dau eu?”

“Eh… tu ai cui in picior…lasa ca data viitoare imi dai tu!”

Zid de cristal

Trebuie sa recunoastem. Alergam. Mergem uneori. Dar in majoritatea timpului alergam. De ce? Pentru ca nu avem timp. Alergam sa prindem metroul, sa luam autobuzul si sa urcam repede in tramvai. Alergam sa ajungem mai devreme cu 20 min la destinatie doar pentru ca nu stii ce se poate intampla pe drum. Poti sa stai in metrou 10 min in plus, sau autobuzul poate sa intarzie inca 15 min datorita traficului.

Dar in momentul in care reusim sa intram in aceasta carapace de metal si tehnologie, acest mijloc de transport universal, cu geamuri peste tot, ne simtim mult mai bine si in siguranta. Nu credeti? Stim ca nu putem grabi mersul sau, ca depindem de el in mare masura. Poate in aceeasi masura in care depinde viata noastra de un examen picat sau unul luat (cine stie cunoaste).

Simplul fapt ca ne uitam pe geam ne face sa speram la mai multe. La acel vast si imens ocean al posibilitatilor pe care ni le ofera capitala tzarii noastre frumoase. Mie imi place cel mai mult in tramvai. La fel si ei. La fel si lui. In tramvai nu prea vezi controlori, mergi fara bilet destul de sigur si mult. Iarna, cand ai caloriferul pe jos care te incalzeste, si geamul aburit sus, poti desena ce vrei tu. Forme,linute cerculete si cuvinte de te miri unde. Le scrii de plictiseala si de drag pentru mijcloul de transport. Pe geam. Pentru el. Pentru minunatul EL.

Vedem prin formele desenate particele al acelui ocean de pessti necunoscuti. Dar stam sa ne intrebam cine e omul acela sau ce face chestia aia? In niciun caz. Trecem peste. Asta e farmecul. Desenezi si nu te baga nimeni in seama. E ca si cum ai fi singur. Singur cu EL. Ce sentiment inaltator. Cateva tone de metal si fire care te transporta doar pe tine. Departe de agitatia de afara si de frigul ce ti’ar putea patrunde in oase.

E de treaba EL. Atata timp cat te simti bine cu EL:)

It’s mine.

Not seldom does it happen to me to receive questions from people who wanted to know what is it that I love so much about that something. I don’t even know what that something is. I just know that I love it. Each and every bit of it, every square inch, every cubic centimeter, every light year of it, I adore it. It’s a part of me, it lives within me, it struggles against me and yet IT cannot escape me. Why? Because I am IT and IT is me!

I love it so much because it’s a mistery, something undiscovered yet by any humble human. Isn’t it lovely? LIVING WITH THE MISTERY ITSELF. Being a part of the unknown, realising that It and only It makes you unique? That you love it and hate it at the same time. That it provoques pleasure on the one hand and nausea on the other! Let it be invisible. Let it become me. May it please me for as long as I want to.

Yes, it’s truly beautiful. Yet, repulsing. It’s somewhere in the middle. But I’d be damned if I wanted it to dissapear. To stop existing. To reach Oblivion. God forbid!! I never want it to end. I have loved it, I love it, and I will love till the end of my days! Only then will I be able to embrace IT!

Cheers darling! Till death do us part!