Do not shake

(I was alone in a room,

one hundred thousand miles from Earth.

My body lay dead before me,

and yet I spoke,

and felt,

and lived.

Behind me lay a tortured world;

before me,

the moon...

and destiny.

Again I felt a surge of power.

Had I been able to,

I would have smiled.

My mission was accomplished.

No one knew;

no one understood.

If they had,

they would not

believe.)

(Maneuvers)

~let's have a game with happy and sad music~

genele tale îmi râd în vârful creionului
foaia se curaţă de alb şi se umple de semne

drumul spre tine este o dâră din boabe de orez

eşti regele junglei, împachetat in başi
şi în sunete foarte înalte,
reformatorul furiei şi al funinginii

sunt drogul tău somnul tău sunt supa de vişine

te scap în cap, nimeni nu te iubeşte
mai mult decât fiica groparului
dar şi groparul îşi îngroapa fiicele
dacă i se fac fărâmiţe
(Mira)

& sierra leone pe repeat

Mulţi au gîndit-o, puţini au scris-o

Then there was Laura..

How real

Make or break I entertain
Run and run until i drop
In the dark I saw the light
Of my old world

Multă fericire; retrospectiv, văd multă.

Dar de unde? Cum de? Şi.. de ce are origini atît de singuratice?

Să mă facă, pentru o clipă măcar, Sam Frank, Freckles, Hope Sandoval, Tasha Baxter sau Katy B să mă simt mai aproape de adevăr decît realitatea? Şi dacă da, e asta fericire genuină sau poate o fugă de realitate? Pînă la urmă şi melodiile astea spun ceva. Nu doar gîghilă urechile. Şi de obicei sub-basul duce ideea... Dar asta-i o poveste pentru altă dată.

Mic exemplu - Example. Auzit de el prin 2004 cînd era un wannabe rapper care făcuse o parodiec reuşită şi ţin minte că mă întrebam dacă o să ajungă şi el vreodată undeva. Acum am dat peste el fără să-mi amintesc de trecut. Aparent o reuşit.

Kickstarts. O melodie a lui:

You want me to come over, I got an excuse
Might be holding your hand but im holding it loose
Go to talk then we choke, it's like our neck's in a noose
Avoid the obvious, we should be facing the truth

Start to think it could be fizzling out
Kinda shocked because I never really had any doubts
Look into your eyes imagine life without ya'

doar ca să ducă melodia în ideea principală:

And then love kick starts again
Starts again
Then love kick starts again
Starts again

într-un mod foarte upbeat şi optimist, jolly, jingly and oh look hun it's Santa with presents.

Iar apoi se întîmplă Bar 9, care se joacă puţin cu melodia. E mai fluentă la început, pare că merge pe exact acelaşi fir optimist, el ia capul ei în mîini, îi vedem zîmbetul în colţul gurii afective din dotare... iar apoi something goes terribly awry. Muzica şi videoclipul iarăşi se înţeleg grozav, doar că într-un mod diferit de prima melodie.

Never see the sky

Never see the sky
You live in the void
Never go outside
'Cause you're paranoid
Cloud burning bright
The burn feels so good
Cloud burning bright

Fragment de autobiografie

Stau la ultimul etaj într-un bloc ultra
Dar nu mă invidiaţi, fraţilor,
am nimerit între doi locatari
care-mi fac numai zile negre:
Cel-de Sus uită mereu robinetul deschis
în cerul său
şi-mi inundă tristeţea care se tot umflă
precum parchetul;
Cel-de-Jos este şi mai ciudat:
Îmi bate în calorifer din te miri ce
de nu mai îndrăznesc să intru
nici măcar în istoria literară
de teamă să nu scârţâie cumva uşa
şi să-l deranjeze pe imbecil.

(Spiridon Popescu)

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that.

If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid.

And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help.

I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.

And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart.

You're an orphan, right? You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do you, sport?

You're terrified of what you might say.