fake blood

lipstick.group work:let's have fun on ha lo w e e n. hallo ween. the butterflyish guys and the wanna-get-wasted-and-fucked-right-here-girls. hmm... is there something wrong with this picture? ok, so we get to a queue, the bodyguards act like prison guards- u have to be a student! u have to stay in line! one goes out, one goes in! (I forgot to tell you- this was a visit at the haloween party at student's union). all the people from the queue outside have the same makeup: blood. It's a mainly blood party. blood on the chin, blood on the cheeks, blood on almost everything. that's about it. There's a girl-dinozaur really shy inside, gently smiling around as ioana takes picuters. I don't know if she also wants a picture or she's just like that. the girl-dinozaur seems nice. and lonely, in her dinozaur outfit.

when you get a drink you have to wait like 30 minutes at least and smash yourself among the other bodies. there's a nice marilyn- manson- in- misery-guy-but- with- a- nice- smile at the bar. and everybody is just glad to have somebody takin pictures of them. they are proud. we meet superman. and the strumphs. (strumphs? is that correct? the strumphs?). everybody looks around to see who sees them. they act like I'm havin so much fun- I'm fun, and I'm funny, and I'm into it, I'm soo groovy and so into it... can u see? i would so much like to see that you see ME. or ME! or ME!

u can't get drunk because the drinks are too expensive, and you can't steal drinks because all the people drink everything until the last bit. because of course it's expensive. so floating in this I would like to get wasted, in fact I'm so willing to get wasted, but I can't afford it, but I'm here at the student's union, so it's gonna be sooo much fun, everybody's kind of full of enthusiasm in faking it. to be honest, at the beginning I was looking around amazed that they are taking this haloween thing so seriously. i mean- they really worked hard on that make-up. and i'm a bit superior, like- ok, that's lame.all the blood thing and shit. after that, i think that they are just young and having fun and there's nothing wrong in that. after that I begin to think like- those people really have no problems. then i was like- ok maybe I just come from a different background. maybe my childhood was different. I would never wear that shit, not even when i was 18. but maybe that's just because I'm a bit sour? and again- maybe just because my childhood was different? and the context and all? maybe it's ok to spend all that time in doing this:


I never went to a halloweeen party before, and wouldn't have imagined that I could go to one- except that here you just wanna see everything and take it as it comes. do it like they do it on discovery channel. i never saw santa claus in a red suit and with a beard coming to my house- and in fact I'm glad I didn't. to me it was more honest and poetic- santa claus was a mystery, until i discovered that my parents were santa claus, which was a big step in my growing up. and a honest one. they never pretended to be someone they are not.

... and the party ends at 3 o'clock, and all the bloody strumphs go home. quietly. is there something wrong with this picture? or do i just come from a different background? actually, there's no good and bad, no right and wrong. it's just fake blood, that's all.

benefits and bunnies

I went to centrepoint today. gonna start as soon as i have all my papers ready. it's a big place, biggest cp hall in london- 80 residents. had a talk with lindsay, whom I'm gonna assist as far as I know. lindsay's great and the place is great and I can't wait to get started. some facts about the people there: there are 40 boys and 40 girls, the average age is 18 to 25. it's a 2 years residence. the accom fees are paid by the government as a benefit, until they find a full time job. so when they find a full time job they have to look for renting in the private sector, or pay the accomodation fees at centrepoint (meaning 120 pounds/week).when they have the benefit, they have to pay 11 pounds a week to the halls. they also have 45 punds per week from the government. this benefit is like a support for the period in which you are looking for a job- which means you have to prove that you are looking for a job, and have job interviews and so on. from this 45 pounds a week, you pay 11 pounds to the halls, which leaves 34 pounds per week. the transport for a week is usually 10 pounds, so that leaves 24 pounds for a week... which is acually not much at all. but anyways, that's the benefit system, and it's ok that it exists. all these 80 residents have different stories- some of them just couldn't get along with their parents anymore, some of them were living in too small places, some of them just don't have parents. there are tons of reasons that can make you become homeless. which is a very radical word, similar in a way to "aurolac" in my country, but people seem to use it- so i guess it's not offending. anyways, so for a homeless kid, life seems to be like that: you go through care until 16 years old- which means that the government provides you a place to live and money and food and all, and then when you are 16 the care system cannot take care of you anymore, so you go to halls and homes and hostels like centrepoint. and when you have the right age to work, and when the government decides that you are able to work (which means that you pass some tests , I guess), you start looking for a job and you get the benefit until you find a full time job, which means that you are able to live by yourself, which means that usually you move from the halls and become an adult.lindsay told me that everybody's looking for a job, but there are a few people who don't really want to find a full time job, because, in essence, that would mean that they have to leave and become adults. there also some people who have full time jobs and don't want to leave the halls, so they pay the accomodation fee by theirselves, although in the private sector it would be much cheaper. (you can find a rent with 90 pounds per week in the private sector, whilst in centrepoint you have to pay 120 pounds per week.)

other news:




- I have a new teapot:




- have a new toy:

- my lava lamp is finally working



- my hair is growing:



--and I saw a bunny smoking hookah (narghilea) today:

flat 13

conversation with RJ, my flatmate:
R:i like your music, i heard it when I was going to the kitchen.
V:Oh, I wanted to ask you something: do you hear my alarm clock in the morning? coz i'm that kind of a... you know... snoozing person. and I was wondering if you hear my alarm in the morning... coz sometimes i snooze like for an hour...
R: oh, i'm a snoozer too. but I don't hear your alarm.
V: Oh, good.
R: Do you hear my alarm?
V: No, I don't hear your alarm.
R: I don't hear your alarm because anyway usually I have music all the time in my room, and you know... But do you hear my music?
V:No, I have music all the time in my room, too. Do you hear my music?
R: No, I don't hear your music. That's good that you don't hear my music, coz I was wondering if you hear my music , because sometimes I heard my music from the hall when I was coming from the kitchen.
V:No, I don't hear your music. I aslo hear my music through the door. I guess you can hear it through the door but not through the wall.
R:Yeah.
V:Yeah.

the origin of love

super keen

so here it goes- very determined to get to centrepoint today. tell them i wanna do volunteering and that here I am, what should I start with?

so i go to school, solve my problems there. fill in the forms for a new bank account and ask the forms for a hardship scholarship, which says that if my parents gain less than 39305 pounds, the school's gonna cut 20% off my accomodation fees. haha. my mother earns 400 pounds a month, and my father as well. the school should give me a chocolate too. and buy me a frying pan.

ok. so I solve my money-ish problems, and head to a place named aldgate, which I found on the map, and which is nearby Central House, 25 Camperdown Street , where centrepoint is. so here I go, my headphones in my ears, change at Elephant&Castle and take the 100 bus to aldgate. the bus goes, daedelus sings, i look on the window, and suddenly I find myself at the end of the line. "last station, miss", shouts the driver. I go to him. "what about aldgate?" "we passed aldgate long time ago. you shouldn't listen to music when you don't know where u'r going", says the driver and smiles. it sounds like a more profound advise than it really is, like a zen-thing- "you shouldn't listen to music when you don't know where you're going, my daughter, or your soul will be lost in the darkness".

ok, I go down, near the bus who is supposed to go first from the station. it has the doors closed, and the driver is makin crossword games. it's cold. i walk in front of the bus. he sees me. he looks at me, he looks at the doors. he looks at the crosswords game. he goes back to his crosswords. i start to walk closer, acting like i'm trembling. he seems like a good old guy, but the fuckin game got his brains so bad that he just can't quit. he looks at me one more time. i look at him. he looks at the game. i'm like- what the fuck man, can't you just open the doors? finally, the bus from behind opens the doors so i get in. i still have my headphones and still listen to music, but this time I am paying way more attention to the lady who announces the stations.

so i reach aldgate, and begin the search for 25 Camperdown Street. everything's a mess, the whole place is a building site. the area seems bussiness-ish, but lots of streets under construction. i finally find my way to whitechapel street, which will lead me to braham street, which will lead me to camperdown. i walk on whitechapel and try to guess if it's ok to make a left or not, 'cause there are no street-signs. but I say, let's give it a try, so a make a left. i walk down the street, looking after a street sign. a man comes from behind and asks "everything allright?". that's how people ask here. all the time. "are u ok?"/ "everything allright, miss?"- at first you feel like it's something wrong with you, or that you look "non-ok", but after that you realize it's a way of expressing their helpfullness in case you have a question, or just a way of saying hi. so the man asks "everything allright?", I say yes I'm cool and just when he turns away and I look after him- here it is!!! 25 camperdown street. hurray.

i go, find Central House, which is a biiig bussiness building, and go to the door. stop in front of the door. there is a small thing for cards, and a sign which says that access is allowed only if you have a pass-card. i look through the door, at the reception, which seems like kilometers away- there's a lady, who looks into her computer. not the communicative type. she definitely wouldn't open the door for me, not even if I fainted or something. ok. fuck it. so I came all the way just to come back and send an email to centrepoint. I wonder why didn't I do it in the first place. I don't know. just wanted to see the place. and then I look at the door one more time- there's a man in blue, washing the windows. he seem spanish. i wave at him. make signs to the door. he looks at me, waves back. i make signs like- can you please open the door? i don't have the card!! he opens the door, i feel like giving him a big hug. i go inside quickly, go to the reception, sign, and then go to the 5th floor, to centrepoint's main office.

a huuuge rooms with lots of computers - "give young homeless people a future" written on the walls. i look at everything, i feel dizzy. it's like at least 50 people I think, working at their computers, all looks like the most modern and up-dated bussiness centre in romania, but it's not for bussiness. it's for the homeless kids from the city.

then the guy from the volunteering service comes, we go to a room, and talk. he seems surprised that i showed up like that, says that he was about to send the email back to all the people who wrote their named on the volunteering mailing lists, and that they're about 80, but I came ahead of everybody. we talk and decide that maybe wednesday and thursday i'll have an interview in a centre closer to new cross, after I fill in the volunteering form. "you really jumped the gun,", he says, still looking a bit amazed by me popping up there just like that. "that means you're keen." keen? i'm mega-ultra-keen. i'm super-keen on starting this. ok. so i head to the door, and pass by some people who smile at me so warm, that i suddenly remember the change of my haircut, aka that i have no hair now, and I realize that i look a bit like a young homeless kid. i smile back and go to the elevator. jump in the elevator so it closes the doors. and then back home. ha!!

dalai lama knows da shit

ok, so... first of all, you walk up and down the city, first in camden town, buy some gloves, then in notting hill, search for a place which you don't find, then back to new cross, eat some thai food, have a chat, have a thai beer, have a jasmine tea, then come home and...



















get ready for a new week.

sometimes hair is too much to take. you play with it, you dye it, you cut it, you try to make it like "you", you get angry with it, you forget about it, you complain about it, you caress it. and let me tell you, it's so good when you just shave it. dalai lama knows the shit, i tell you.

ps- thanks ioana, u know da shit too. :-).

ulrich seidl

tag storm

the great depression

Unity Theatre

agit prop

The big Issue

Evicted

Erwin Piscator

Che Guevara

F. D. Roosevelt

Churchill

Centrepoint

The Foyer Federation

DGASPC


department of oscillations

the New Deal

the Federal Theatre Project

the Living Newspaper

Diego Rivera

Social Security

Eleanor








(images from-FTP productions)

the shunt queen

check out this beauty:






she's a five meter dancin queen, walking around in the shunt lounge. she has a plastic body and a neon heart, and she gave birth to a small blue plastic baby, with 2 blue big eyes.

and about the shunt lounge...

"Shunt is a collective of 10 artists creating large-scale performance events in unexpected, abandoned or derelict buildings throughout London. Their current home is a sprawling labyrinth of railway arches under London bridge station: a bonded wine vault for the last 100 years - now an independent republic with diplomatic immunity and a vast private army. This was the site of shunt's last two productions (Tropicana and Amato Saltone) and will also host the shunt lounge from September 2006."

more about Shunt

go fuck what cho mama say, imma vote obama way!

... featuring daedelusdarling.

G-A-Y

take care with that, it might not come off tomorrow, said a friend last night, when the guys from the G-A-Y club put the stamp on my hand. i didn't see a problem with that. unfortunately, the G didn't get on my hand. and, anyway, what's the problem with being G-A-Y?my gayness is that I'm smiling all day long on the streets, so one can say that I'm happy, as in gay, or the other way round.

i went to a career opportunities fair today, and met a very funny guy, kind of english common faced geek, with a very funny expression and with a huge blonde rasta, which was leaning back and forth while he was speaking, we were speaking about his organization and about volunteering opportunities and I tell him that I'm here only for 4 days, and he is like- no waaay, wow, fantastic, and how do you find england, and I say- well it's great, I mean- the greatest thing of all is that everybody is smiling at me on the streets, and that lots of people wave hands at me, or say hello in the bus and stuff like that. and he is like- he stares at me for a bit and says: no shit! do they? and I'm like- yes, isn't that a common thing to do here? and he says- no man, not at all. most of the people are grumpy around here and people defenitely do not wave hands at other people on the streets. we start laughing and then we decide that maybe that's because I'm smiling all the time and floating around like Sandy Belle.

and I think I found a place to go volunteering: it is named centrepoint, and it deals with socially excluded and homeless young people. it seems to be quite what I have in mind about a project for tennegers in daycentres in Bucharest. they offer assistance and help for homeless kids or kids with problems to integrate and find jobs, and try to build a living, and their...

"ultimate goals are …

That we share with others: A socially inclusive society.

That is specific to us: That no young person will ever fail to realise their potential by being caught in the social exclusion trap.

To give young people on a downward spiral (especially those at risk of homelessness) a chance to turn things around and build a more fulfilling future.

"

(excerpt from Centrepoint's Mission statement)

It's strange and so good that last night I was writing in my new red notebook about possible ways of trying to do such a project in Romania, for the homeless kids, and I was thinking about how helpful it would be to work in a place like that here, and to see how people do it here, and now the first thing today is getting to these guys.

:-)

oysterized

The "London Student" has some interesting informations about the good old OYSTER CARD- (aka the english public transportation card) :

"the Oyster card's software has been widely lambasted for its poor security, and in June 2008, Dutch researchers sucessfully hacked into the card, allowing them to steal infrmation from oblivious commuters. [...] I, like many other law-abiding citizens, also have to endure constant observation by our army of 4.2 million CCTV cameras. One may therefore mistakenly believe that this erosion of our privacy was unsurpassable; however, Oyster cards take surveillance to new heights. "

( by Janagan Alagarajah,

from The London Student, volume 29, issue 3- 20th October 2008)

more on Oyster

pub quiz

A pub quiz is when you are in a pub and a man goes around and around between the tables and shouts questions, like- „who released the album „like a prayer”?”. Some people have sheets of paper in front and write the answers. The others, who don’t take the quiz, just carry on with their conversation and they stop from time to time, no matter what they were speaking, look at eachother and answer the question that the man shouts near their ear, whether they like it or not. For example- „look, I think I have a problem. We have to talk. I don’t know how to say it, but...” and then the man comes „WHAT CAN YOU FILL WITH AIR?” and the two of you look at eachother and say „A BALOON!” and then you carry on: „but we have to break up.” „NAME ONE THING YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DO IN THE AIRPLANE!” and he/she looks at you, and says: „You cannot smoke in an airplane.”

first/last

Choose a job. Choose an optional course.

I saw a dead fox on the street, near the boardwalk, right next to hyde park corner. At first I thought it’s a dog, but there are no dogs in London. Seems like there are foxes, though. This morning i went for a walk. Everything was deserted. Then i realized it’s 8 o’clock in the morning. I’ve been sleeping for 12 hours. I was walking on the streets, random. Trying to think about things. All my memories and thougths are zipped. Archived. One night before i got here, i got into a fight. A farewell present from bucharest. Never got hit before in my life. Strange. I still look at the bruises on my hands and wonder what the fuck happened. Bogdan, my friend, was hit harder than me. But still i don’t know what to think about this.

So I’m here now. Without any frying pan. All the adaptors I buy are not working. I bought noodles today. And timeout. And cream crackers. And had the greatest breakfast ever, after my 8 o’clock walk, in a little shop with two old grandparent-like cooks- husband and wife, who made me toast with mushrooms, and smiled gently around me. I was a bit nervous because, during this morning walk, I kept meeting with a guy who thought I was coming home from a party.
Asked me if I’m spanish and if I have any boyfriend, and told me that his friend locked himself outside a house. „Have you been to the club last night?” I looked a bit amazed. „No, man, I’ve been sleeping the whole night.” He didn’t believe me. Thought I just want to get rid of him. „where are you from?” „Romania”. „Ohh, Romania. I thought you were spanish. You look spanish.” Told him I just want to take a walk and think about things. Seemed to be the perfect excuse. He left. Then I met him again and told me that he’s been locked out. Then I left again. I said- „well, you’re lucky it’s not raining”, and left, with a polite smile.

I am stuck just watching things happening around me, for a week- since i got home from timisoara. I just watch. As if my whole brain is zipped. I don’t know what to think about anything. And tensed like a cat. Ok. I will go try to buy another adaptor.

[later edit]

but you cannot be too tensed if you go down the streets and you see this...

or this:

or this:

?

ok. one more day. do i need a fuckin frying pan or not?

saturday

i just realized that in one week from now i will be in the little shadowy room from dean house, in front of a 3 pounds dinner which consists in: a double cheeseburger with spicy ketch up, french fries and maybe some nuggets. and a soda. with acid. it's not good but it's the cheapest around. no, really. nothing compares to the first-day trip. in one week i will meet my flat mates. in 2 weeks we will talk about sharing the shelves in the fridge, and in 3 weeks we will cook together. i still don't get it why shloud you not smoke, even in your private place. does that mean i won't have any private place? i will have a smoke alarm on my ceiling. i mean- at any moment that thing could scream. loud. actually, i will live with a smoke alarm above me.

first before trip

hello everybody. this is the first post. feed da pigeons will be my london experience blog, as i will be in london for 1 year for a MA at Goldsmiths- cross sectoral and community arts. i will leave ro on 18 october, but i guess the preparing process is also part of the trip. so... welcome and enjoy.