i will leave bucharest on 18th of october 2008. i will be back in september 2009. i will study at goldsmiths, london, for one year. i will write here about da one-year-trip.[later edit]and i will keep this blog even after for as long as possible until the muddy swamps and cements will catch me again
that moment when you want to carve a way for yourself and realize that all this time you ve been fakin. and it can be possible to be somehow else. i started smoking because of social convenience, i started drinking because of social convenience, i started doing drugs because of social convenience. of course i had some benefits from it but hey what if all these people do all these things because of social convenience, arent they just a bunch of stupid fucks that mirror each others need to be normal in the dullest way possible? who wants to be the awkward antisocial freak who stares at the walls in a room full of people? i guess carving a way of living for urself is the hardest way.
this guy inspires me always though
... and then winter comes. you get ready to live mostly indoors. gotta arrange the space for that. you have a little home on the 10th floor above bucharest. near the mall. every night you go home, you see this huge pillar with huge blue lit letters: "MEGAfun". today crossing the mall you had small pleasures. watched the mannequins from the mango shop, who all look the same, and thought- these girls are really sexy. it was actually the same face, but different clothes. you found a present for this boy you like. talked at the workshop about stuff in ur life- ur mum and the pigeon she found, lost friends, job. then you came home, made this salad. bought bacon and mushrooms from the shop named "real". while waiting at the cue, noticed the beautiful huge faces hangin on the walls. made judgmental remarks in your head about the next person in line's boots. thought about the moment when you will make pics with everything that's in your room. made this salad. ate it. while crossing the parkway, made judgmental thoughts about a girls' feet. and watched your own feet in the new 300 lei boots. ur mum bought your new boots. in the bus, a young man talking about the gypsy tradition with the girl- that he and his girlfriend must not tell the parents she is not a virgin anymore, cus they'd throw her away and no other gypsy would take her. "a romanian would take them. even if they're not virgins", said his romanian friend. the discussion continued. then home, the salad and probably sex and the city. next morning, clean up the space, the living space. looked at the plates you wash thinkin this can be a good meditation opportunity. you wash the plates and think about the plates you wash. ate eggs bacon and mushrooms. had a small fight with the cat. cleaned the floor. last night you dreamed rj died. then woke up realized it was just a dream. probably talkin yesterday about his accident at the workshop made it come back in your mind. then fell back asleep and dreamt he ressurected. you met, but he said that now that he's back to life he'll not be gay anymore. then we wondered if we can still be such good friends if he's - quote- 'heterosexual". watched "the doom generation" again these days- a heterosexual movie by gregg araki. 15 december. plans for the near future. while washing the plates i was asking myself what would the definition of "theatrical" be. then plans for funding. then plans. think about the peter pan monologue. will you ever finish it. probably until june. wash your clothes. think about your hair which has a natural rasta tangled portion. eat little toblerone chocolates. outside's snowing. you won't be able to wear the new boots so much now. check rj's profile to make sure it's not like in the dream, where there was this huge black band on the fb profile, written- we are sorry to inform you that your friend died. you buy plasticine from "real"- wonder if this is a sign of inner peace, or just a sign of winter coming- this will generate little coloured animals who will then fill the living space. think about the text ur writing- the one with the education. gotta give it more time. think about time, while washing the plates. listen to melancholic music, like marianne faithfull but especially diamanda galas
9th of september and i say leave a trace of your thoughts write i was in the bus 2 days ago thinking about a memory and then said to myself i should write this until i forget it until it starts decomposing in my mind but i didnt even believe myself when thinkin that. the memory became just a frame that got stuck into my mind making me think, as so many times recently, that love and affection are a form of illness. a form of being stuck like an animal in a trap. your helpless look. your random moves, trying to escape it. your dreamy eyes when you think of something that is not here with pain and desire.
one of the first days in bucharest today. walked a lot. sometimes feels like a battle field. it s grey and violent and intense. poisoned. gas and noise. loads of noise. the main street, magheru, feels so heavy. very hard to handle. when you walk through it, you have to shout, the sound of the cars is too strong. and there s fogg, things look misty cus of the pollution. a walk through magheru and you need a retreat. streets are underconstruction everywhere. you hear the sound of machines breaking cement, and this is mixed with the sound of cars and claxons, and alarms. people s faces are dark brown and frowned. some of them seem lost. there was an old lady from the countryside near nottara theatre, the kind of very skinny old ladies with black clothes and a black scarf (basma?) on her head. she looked at me grabbed my hand and shouted ”where are we?”. ”we are near piața romana”, i shouted back. ”i want to go down the hill to universitate” she shouted. i pointed the direction. ”just keep on walking!! keep on walking in that direction and you will see it!!” she seemed frightened. i had to give her a little push in that direction. ”i will go down there and i will see it, right?” said she, already moving. ”right.” and i waved my hand. she looked as confused as in the beginning and then she dissapeared in the crowd. i sort of like this intense heavy feeling. i breath in and feel the dust gas ans smell of sweat. feel dizzy. gives you quite a high. can t compare it with other drugs. feels stronger and better than the dreamy hippie amsterdam. maybe also because i m not a hippie anymore. i don t wanna feel The Love anymore.
discovered a beautiful artist 2day, her name is yașam șașmazer. she is from turkey and she makes these weird wooden painted sculptures, child-size children like these
also discovered a beautiful artist at the ADM festival in Amsterdam some days ago. his name is yann keller and his music fits bucharest so well. he built this instrument called the steelbass. and makes sound installations like this - and this sound is bucharest
