vineri, 31 iulie 2009

july end

today i bought my ticket for bucharest, made the reservation. 4th october 09, sunday. almost one year now. somebody told me- ur gonna find us all changed when u get back. some things will be, but i fear most of the things will just be exactly the same. don't know exactly how to prepare for that except the fact that i will defenitely have my hair bleached again before coming home. or before going home. depends on the perspective.

last month, fast forward.

sold baloons on embankment and in trafalgar square. zi giraffe, zi dog, zi magic sword and zi helmet, zi clown and zi biutiful assistant and zi children all over the place. would you like a baloon? yes i would. serious. serious faces, big eyes, waiting for the coloured baloon animals to come to life. sometimes zi clown would pop the baloon by mistake and then we would shout- celebratiooooon!! and then take another baloon. keep your fingers crossed, otherwise the baloon won't come to life! and they did, and then the baloon would come to life. one baloon, 50p.clowns are hungry, clowns gotta eat, we'd say, and then the mothers will smile with their motherish wisdom, because they know what hunger means. where are you from? romania. how is romania? oh, there are even more clowns there. and the fathers would smile with their fatherish wisdom. fathers tend to be more political than mothers.

first day when we went to trafalgar, we sat near a woman who was painted as a statue, body paint and 18th century dress, standing for people to take pictures with her. at some point, she came to talk to us, and she asked where r u from? romania. really??? she asked in shock. yea, why? do you know it? do you speak romanian? da, mai vorbesc si romaneste. da de unde esti? din vrancea. then she went back to her place. colega.

joyce wrote in exile for all his life about the country he had left. he took a part of the country with him, though. but the part of the country he took, that was his wife, did never read his works. jung thought joyce has schizophrenia after reading ulysses.

sloane square area is the most expensive area on the planet. go planet.

i have a friend who can smell faces. she has this sense, and when she looks at a face, she can feel a smell, one certain smell, that will remain associated with the face for the rest of her life. my smell was very very syrup sweet, intense sweet.

working at cp, last month. i will probably never see some of those people again, which makes it even more incredibly strange. the sadness and melancholy and quietness they have. even when they're loud, they're quiet. even when they have a fight, they don't believe that they are right. the words and images they generate are so simple and beautiful. "if i was a moon, i want everyone to see me at the same time"

july beginning- gay pride, lady gaga and take that, wembley and 80000 people, strange clouds on the sky, always strange clouds on the sky. friends and beautiful memories that become memories even the second you live them because you know that in a few months you will not see those people. dinners and indian cooking, best food i ever had in london, and chilean parties. mixed up realities, and all of us smiling as if in a big hug, already on a postcard in our thoughts, with the sunset light behind us. busses and trains and streets. the parks, huge parks hidden in the heart of the city, and the football trainings with the young people. i always wondered- calling somebody a young person is a form of political corectness?

i got a pink inflatable saxophone which i have with me and i can sing whenever i want. i tied it up with baloons (the ones that already have popped, coz we can't waste a good baloon).

i also got a flower on emonth ago, and after a week i thought it died, coz it had only dead flowers on it, but rj taught me to rip the dead ones in order to make space for the live ones, and i did, and then other flowers came up.

my room looks like a playground. i sometimes think that all these coloured things and found objects that keep on gathering around me, and even my clothes and everything, are more what people see in me, and i am happy because of that. i never see myself like that. i see myself like senorita tristeza, but whenever i meet people, they wanna play. so the playground generates around us, and that is so beautiful. i wish it could all be a big coloured playground for the big kids.

senorita tristeza was a song i used to listen to last year in spring, when i was applying for goldsmiths. i listened to it on and on al lthe time and see thames in front of my eyes and embankment bridge while walking on bd magheru.

last week at embankment we met a guy who was performing charlie chaplin, his name was diego. he was from argentina. he left argentina at 25 years old, to go in other countries to perform chaplin on the streets, and he never stopped since. now he is 35. he moved from place to place, going around the world, with a 30 mins number with chaplin for the streets, and other stuff to perform inside, in theaters/venues, just him and some objects easy to carry around. he said he never went too much to eastern europe because there there is still tension on the streets. he said he would stop when he's old, and he'd seen all the world, and then he will go back to argentina to stay with his family, smoke, grow a big beard and a big belly. he was quite a chaplin. we asked him if he rehearses a lot and he said nooooo, not to much preparation, with too much preparation your mind is no longer free.