Friday, February 27, 2009

Such a weird sensation… That I don’t want to talk about it…
I’m like a mute painting.
What the fuck is this? Who am I?
It’s like… It’s such a bland feeling…
What the fuck is this??? What am I doing?... Question marks… My friends.
I feel like throwing things.
A friend of mine said: “I’m gonna make Oriental Salad.” And I was looking at him with a yummy-yummy-yummy face. But he told me “Imi pare rau, tu ai prieten, n-ai ce cauta la mine.”…
Oh, God, I want to punch something!...
I need my… my love… my boyfriend?...
Nobody knows that I’m alone. And I won’t tell them. I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t know what to do…
And finally home…

Memories from a second night.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

(You Look Like Rain - Morphine)

There was absolutely nothing that could comfort her. Nothing in this world. She was sitting at that table in that bar, where nobody knew anybody and they were all there to forget about themselves, and she didn’t care if anybody saw her crying, if anybody saw her wet red eyes. Thank God she was wearing good make-up otherwise it would’ve all run down her face. Not that she would’ve given a damn. Just like she couldn’t care less that a lot of the people who were in that low illuminated bar were staring at her. Most of them were men. She, with her refined, so feminine suit and her broad brimmed hat and her cigarette holder… and her sweet, sly Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Tennessee whisky… Every seep she let run down her throat left behind in her mouth that wonderful caramel taste… It was like a sweet lie telling her that everything was going to be alright… She was decided that that night she needed that whole bottle of lies to make her stop feeling… she needed the caramel.

She knew that every slimy pig that was watching her every move was this close to coming to her and asking her one of those stupid questions like “Oh, pretty lady, why are you so upset, sitting here all by yourself?”. Like a question like that to a person really upset would ever get a nice answer… Or it could start a flirt or… Except maybe if the person would decide that a one night stand is something that could help forgetting… But she wasn’t that desperate. She was sickened by all of them; only the thought that any of them could touch her in any way made her sick. Even their stares, she felt them like hands on her body and that gave her nausea shivers…

Another sip… It felt so good… She loved that whisky, the only one that she could stand to drink; and that night more than ever. How could he just… And to think that she was really going to leave her husband… That man who could give her the moon, really he could buy it probably, but couldn’t make her happy. Not like that young man who woke up in her so many things that she didn’t know she waited for so long to feel.

And now she’s in this sleazy bar drinking her brains out. She hasn’t been in a place like this since high school when she had no money, but was desperately in love with an older boy… She was so young and fresh then… Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to stay or try to find a solution to be with her… No… That’s a stupid thing to think. Another sip. He was too good, too real to be that shallow, he wasn’t a liar. She actually understood and believed him that he didn’t have a choice, but… She could be just a little selfish, right? She could feel hurt, right?

Oh, no… One of those pigs thinks he saw something that says he’d have a chance. Oh, no, please, don’t come… Go away…
- Hey, pretty lady. (Horrible smile.) Why so upset? Wanna tell me your name?
She looked at him still with teary eyes… Why do always ugly and stupid men think that they’re really the opposite?
- Do you honestly think that you can help me?
He wanted to say something more, maybe that he was indeed a fucking knight in shining amour underneath that libidinous appearance, but she lowered her face, the hat’s brim covered her eyes, and she slowly took another sip.

I could tell you taste like the sky ‘cause you look like rain…
Rain… She missed the rain… To feel the raindrops on her face… warm and clean… and steady and calming… And the sound. Just laying on her back on the beach and letting the rain cover her… He was beside her when she turned her head to look at him. They were perfectly balanced: she loved the sky and he loved the sea.

You look like rain, you look like rain…

You look like rain...



Photo © Haleh Bryan - "Midnight Take"

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

I love myself when I’m in love. And every time I realize this it catches me by surprise. It feels like a love declaration to myself. Almost every time it happens towards the end. Maybe precisely to…
I dreamt last night. I dreamt that you came only to tell me that you were “going out, dear”. And then I dreamt a beautiful girl who was trying to commit suicide in the bath tub… under the water with her eyes open… and beautiful… She didn’t. But she had a laugh at my sadness.
Seems so silly. Everything. Traveling to distant land when… nothing says it’s possible... Only the drunken mind thinks it, stubborn against all common sense.
I always believe what people tell me…
Draw a beautiful house in the field. A big house, with trees in the autumn, with golden grass turned to straw, with wooden fence… and sun, a lot of sun, calm, with wind… so peaceful and bringing so much wellbeing… Me, I’m under a tree, a huge marvelously green tree in the middle of this autumn. Nothing can come here… I’m smiling. I longed so much for this smile… It feels good.
I’m waiting for my man… I’m almost laughing thinking it because this is silly; it’s a silly way to make fun of ourselves and to be unwarily glad of our lives here. We know we’re good here… we know it’s never going to get better… and we know we’re never going to leave this place. It’s ours; finally, we have found it. It has been made for us. It’s like a dream… everything seems that it could move in slow motion, but it’s not; it’s just slow, the rhythm.
We have a dog and a cat, that get along… I don’t know where they are… and we have chickens… and horses. And everything a perfect dream needs in order to be perfect.
More realistic seems the dream with the girl drowning.
Nothing to say.
Just waiting.
Love with an expiration date… the stupidest thing I could do.
But so beautiful.
Who am I kidding?
I just want to leave. That’s it. That’s all I want to do.
… My coffee got cold.