tuesday

had a flash the other night while semisleeping i saw the bd maria elisabeta near the pizza hut corner, i was semisleeping and then i felt a strong dust taste and sun, and i was there. luckily enough m was there to hold me in the real physical reality. but i think i have accumulated at least 4 or 5 realities by now. and then close my eyes and back again. i took a virtual bucharest tour, gettin ready. walked in cismigiu, on magheru, near my former highschool, zoomin in. i feel like a wet kitty. and then just this huge need to be hugged. something here just triggered this huge need for affection.

this is smth i wrote on the bus 2 weeks ago, when goin to t's goodbye party. part my part of the "CCTV celebrities" is based on it.

In London I experienced hunger.

There was a poster with this guy on an off licence shop, Ahmed Zarif. His picture. His name. Below it- RIP Ahmed Zarif. Behind him a whole sce

nery of forests and waterfalls. He was looking from

the other world in this white elegant suit with a perfect tie, like he knew something.

He pissed me off. Made me think of death again. Made me think of the limited number of years in front of me.

Walking with your thoughts. It’s like riding a horse. If you loose it, your head may get smashed. But you don’t. Cause you’ve been trained. That’s what they’re doing all your life. Teaching you to ride that horse. Don’t go with the wild horse, sweety! Slow it down, honey! Oh, honeypie, look at the horsey! Doesn’t it look so much nicer today than yesterday? Much nicer and domesticated? The horse will become even more nicer and even more domesticated with each passing day. You won’t even recognize it. It will be just as nice as all the other people’s horses. And then we can go to a nice horse parade together and drink som

e nice tea. Wouldn’t that just be lovely?

I don’t want to hurt anybody. But I do. The moment I am myself, I do hurt people around me.

The rule is killing. And we are living in this game. And they like it. People like to let other people kill them. They’re in love. To love is to let yourself be hurt. To allow yourself to be smashed.

I cultivate amnesia coz I try to forget all the moments that are so nonsensical that they make you question the pure fact of existing in t

his world. But those are wild horses. And as they say, you have to slow them down, slow down. Slow down. Here we go. Delete. Fresh. Refresh. Half of your life you try to forget what happened in the other half of life. Innit?!? Forget where you come from. How can you not? Those big grey blocks full of fear and desperation I’m going back to soon. They tell you- don’t speak, it’s better. If you stand out from the crowd, somebody will see you. Don’t be noticed. Just sit in your chair like a good girl and they will they care of you. Who takes care of you . the state. Who is the state. Nobody took care of me except from my pare

nts. Do you take care of me? Can you take care of me>? What is the limit? What is your line? Where’s the line? Forget about it. Fuck. Forget. That park one day. Our toys were such ugly ones. And the big metal cartoon characters. If you got lose to snow white u could see that rust and if you want to give her a hug you cut your face in the metal. Health and safety. Fuck that. Fuck that. I want home. I want home. No home. What home?
In the first day we have a deal. We will give you a

roof over your head, protect you and feed you, but we have some conditions. Rich people have conditions. First of all, you have to let us control you all the time. You will still be able to have a key to your room. Your room is called your personal space. You will be allowed to bring a few guests, but not more than 4 times a week. When they enter the building they have to show an ID with a photo. It can be any Id. Drivers’ licence is good as well. Yes. And keep the music low. We know you smoke marijuana but we will pretend we don’t/ you have to pretend that you don't know we know you smoke marijuana too. It is not allowed to touch children. It is not allowed to touch. Without touch. No touch. No touch. Hungry.

You come in such a civilized country to make a “forgetting” treatment. Forget the frustration. Forget the fear. You are a grown woman now. You will have a life of your own. Furnished with a partner. Furnished with love. But not too much lov

e. Coz you will stain the walls. How many times do you think we can afford to repaint this life? We are poor, Oana, remember. We are poor. What does that mean? I don’t even understand. Poor means when you cannot have those metal coins and paper notes to use, and because you don’t have them, the people who have them have to be understanding, tolerating and most of all not shake their hands thinking- oh, you know, people are so frustrated. They are almost like being sick in the head because of frustration. Can you imagine, not being able to have what you want? They are a bit sick, aren’t they? What do you think? They are right.

So the rich protect the poor because they understand them, and the poor try to live under this protection because otherwise they’re fucked

. Because the rich have some conditions. Don’t they?

That’s why we should be afraid of the poor. What I learned in London is to cross the street when you see somebody on the same sidewalk late at night and not to talk to strangers. Because that’s our understanding. Innit. Isn’t it strange that when you are close to somebody on the street, the impulse makes you go as further away the space allows you and yet you share the living space with so many different people everyday, trying to repress that feeling of running away because you can have some benefits from living close to some people? Is love a benefit? Is friendship a benefit? What is going on? Have the horses gone crazy? Have they, mommy? No honey, you’re good. You’re gonna ride your horses in a nice

way until you get far. And where will I get when I get far, mommy? You will get to your last moment, love. To the moment when you will breathe in, but not let the breath go out anymore. Keep it in you forever. And become just like that kitty your friend pet on the head when she came back from that party and didn’t notice the kitty was dead. A dead body. And then slowly become earth. Strange, mommy, does that mean that we’re walking on dead bodies all the time/ Coz we’re walking on the earth. Yes, sweetie, the earth is all the dead people from the beginning of the world. Being there so that you can live. And you will go there so that other people can live after you too. Coz without all the dead bodies, the earth would be gone, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it, sweetie? Yes it would, mommy. Yes it would.
The moments I was close to understanding some very important things in my life were the moments when I was also scared as shit that I would die soon. I’ve always had this image of a car crushing me, or falling of stairs, or something. A click. A short click. But then after every moment like this, a part of me dies. And old part of me. And a new one’s born.

I’ve always hunted those moments of revelation. Maybe because I feel that I have to kill a part off me all the time. And to feed myself with it

. Hunger and death. Not enough pennies to take one more bus.

This will be a night you will never forget.

We are living following the rules of an agreement. And this agreement is called money. If you have them, the rule is that you are happy. If you don’t, the rule is that you are not happy. And you try to get some, to transfer some from othe

r people, in order to be happy. Sometimes you are not. You’re not, if you forget the rules of the game. You will be, if you play it properly. Innit?!?

This trip seems endless. I have to count my coins. Maybe they will give me some happiness.

I always liked the reflections of people’s faces in the bus’ windows. The bus is such a good space to understand the rules of the game. Here we are, close to one another, looking and being aware of each other’s presence, but ignoring each other at the same time. That is like a silent pact. We can either kill each other, or protect each other.

There's still so many things I don't get.

Tuesday. We have wednesday and thursday- the performance. then friday- the goodbye party. then vruuuuum.

.

the big cold

i ask myself the same questions as when i was 14, does that mean i am emotionally immature or just stubborn? sometimes i feel i'm some monster i have to drag with me wherever i go and at some point i know that people would be embarrased and i would have to drag the monster home, lock it in a cage and put a sheet on it. the last month has been only about that. about how to adapt myself and this stupid thirst i have, in order to live between other people. i became very self reflective and a bit more articulate in my thoughts. weird enough, i still don't get the convention. the convention between people. what are you allowed and what are you not. and where is this line people keep talking about. i was freezing this morning in the station. london cold, waitin 40 minutes to take the bus. sometimes i wish i lived amongst animals, animals when they are cold just gather one next to eachother and keep warm; the humans stand like stupid asses in their little coats and their little caps and just freeze. i guess they deserve it.

sunday morning, quiet in the house. there's a garden with a tree, and a big kitchen. the washing machine that washes for 2 and a half hours. the toasts with salt. the fridge buzzing. i try to get myself together. where does this expression come from? and how do you loose urself in order to then try to get it back together? i still try to understand this mechanism of the brain. what does the trick. projecting something and then being happy that it happened? i still try to understand what my tools for understanding are. i ty to articulate things in order to look at them as if they are another organism. like i am somebody else and i look at this person.

london. the big cold. same old police in the corner. the girls smashed with shoes in their hands goin out of venue. somebody peeing on the dean house fence, as always. i never understood why do they pee exactly where the door is. yestareday on the streets everybody seemed crazy, in the bus and all over the place. and then, passing clouds.

what happens to humans when they get drunk is that they scream for affection. their screams are embarrasing for some reason, that is why they don't like to remember. they scream so loud and so fearful that they have to control themselves from before.that's why we have bouncers. i strongly believe we are crippled. we have to deal with this need for affection and for togetherness that makes us hate eachother if we don't provide, and love eachother if we provide, and love because we don't want to loose the feeling that somebody loves you that much. what the hell happened on the way that we got so schizo? why are you a control freak during the day and a hysteric baby during the night? or maybe it's just my stupid way of dreaming about people. about that moment of togetherness that is not possible. maybe it's just a virus a nostalgic remain from a world in which we were all animals, a stupid nostalgia that you have to bare with.