Afara miroase a fum. Dar in casa mea miroase altfel. In casa mea miroase a prieteni , si-au lasat aroma in casa. E inca la fel de calda de ei, e inca proaspat. Doar eu am ramas in urma in propriul meu camin , dar nu ma deranjeaza atata timp cat stiu ca vor reveni , atata timp cat inca le mai simt prezenta in fiecare lucru care nu-i la locul lui prin casa.
M-am intors la Suskind, iar. M-am intors la Parfumul iar. Poate nu ati citit cartea , poate ati vazut doar filmul , poate nu ati vazut / citit , poate ar trebui sa faceti chestia asta. De ce? Pentru ca merita , pentru ca vezi anumite chestii intr o alta perspectiva.
Am realizat inca o data cat de dependenta sunt de mirosuri. Nu parfumuri , mirosuri.
Mirosul de piatra. Rece , rigid.
Mirosul aerului cand vine primavara.
Miros de toamna mucegaita.
Mirosul incins al tramvaielor.
Mirosul meu.
Mirosul tau.
Mirosul cafelei in diminetile de dupa.
Mirosul pamantului secetos.
Mirosul caietelor noi.
Mirosul mobilei de nuc.
Mirosul vietii.
Evident , obiectele , chestiile neinsufletite detin o putere mai mica de acaparare a simturilor noastre , chiar si petrolul si mobila noua nu miros la fel ca un om. Oamenii sunt mult mai palpabili, iar mirosurile nasc dorinte.
Ne simtim confortabil in patul nostru , tocmai pentru ca e imbibat de mirosul nostru uman. Cand intram in casa noastra detectam imediat orice miros strain , tocmai pentru ca nu e al nostru.
Dar , dat fiind ca nu rar impartim patul cu alte persoane , acel miros totodata familiar , este si scanteia care conduce spre mai mult. Ca o incheietura dezvelita in Orient. Ca un val desprins. Mirosurile se imbina si se dezbina energic. Capacitatea de a da de urma celei mai mici farame dintr-un tot unitar mirositor e unica. Cei ce diseca au atat avantaje cat si dezavantaje: poti da de urma celui mai ademenitor miros din lume... si ce faci atunci?
As putea spune ca stiu. Stiu ce am facut. am inspirat adanc , pentru totdeauna. Dar se uita o data cu amintirea propriu zisa a momentului. Nu suntem durabili , tocmai de aia unii isi doresc sa pastreze anumite mirosuri pentru eternitate.
Ca sa dau o definitie placerii pur si simplu de a fi : pat , lenjerie satinata , camasa de bumbac cu un miros masculin [ ales pe spranceana evident ] sau pur si simplu o camasa barbateasca. [ P.S valabil numai pentru fete sau ... gay? ].
Simturile si instinctele , nu ratiunea ar trebui sa ne ghideze de multe ori.
Bumbac , cafea , alintaroma , miros de zori , amiaza incinsa , apusuri insorite , praf in vant , costinesti , zapada inghetata , becuri stinse , maini impletite si piele fina , indragostitii din curtea scolii , frunza din dudul bunicii , zgomotul motocicletelelor pe autostrada , intalniri in fum , prima seara de revelion fara parinti ,
zmeura dintre buzele tale , ploaia marunta de la malul marii , primul nostru sarut , scoica din valuri gasita de tine la 6 ani , tipa care ti-a zambit dubios in tramvai , bucuresti , cortul de pe propriul nostru munte .
Miros toate , au o amprenta olfactiva.
Am pierdut deja ce voiam sa pastrez in seara asta viu. Se pierd mai usor decat as fi crezut , dar exista si posibilitatea de a ramane eu in urma. Sa denaturez orice obiect prin parfumul meu. Si ah , Suskind , daca as avea ocazia lui Jean Baptiste , probabil ca as exploata-o fara sa ucid , pentru ca imi place palpabilul , sunt mediocra , evident parte a umanului , nu as putea sa ucid fara regretul ca as fi putut sa ating acea piele , sa ma imbat cu viata din spatele parfumului. Si daca parfumul nu imi mai place? N-ar fi pur si simplu incorect sa ucid? Nu urmaresc obtinerea parfumului care sa-mi ofere atotputernicia asupra rasei din care fac parte , asa cum nu dispun de un nas suficient de bun pentru asa ceva.
Pf. Fantezii. 16 , infinit. Sa ma bucur si sa traiesc . Tactilul e urmarea olfactivului. Nu ma pot abtine . E ca o ciocolata cu prea mult cacao.
Noapte buna.
M.L.
Eventual Paste Fericit !
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miercuri, 15 aprilie 2009
duminică, 22 martie 2009
Losing control.
It's unbelievable and it feels all over my skin.
It's almost like a touch. Like an image on a VCR that you keep playing over and over again and again . Just that it's a feeling. A look . There are so many memories , so many things we shared with others , so many things we would love to repeat , just that it's not possible in real world , but there are so many things that you can do inside your mind that it becomes painful, playing that VCR over and over again. It would be better to let it go , but when you discover that thing that suits your needs and you are perfectly conscious that it cannot be yours just because it's only one and it's already taken , you cannot act rationally.
And it's even harder to be aware of it. I mean , if I were sort of insane , not realising in which kind of shit I am getting in , it would be teoretically Ok. But , as I am not sort of insane , or at least that's what I like to think , I am realising perfectly what kind of shit I am getting in , iI am totally aware of what a big mistake I am doing. And still , I am not stopping , thing which is probably due to some kind of insanity in an incipient phase.
So repeating the VCR , being aware of it being wrong it's all upside down and I just can't help it.
I felt some sort of change in myself long ago and I have to be grateful for it to some people but I can't get to the point to understand the perception of others of my own change.Well , it's nice , I was surprised myself how fine it is to be popular and quite famous and knowing people that others would die to know , doing things for which others consider you special , but it's not enough. Never enough.
I am never satisfied. I am also aware that I am an exception for my generation , at least in my highschool , but still I am not ... what I want from myself. Being part of the stream is wrong but being against is also wrong. I feel I have no connection with school , there is no bond , I see no point in attending all those classes. Knowing better is depressing. Knowing that I am not the peak , but the bottom of the hill it feels wrong. Ashin Sopaka , a budhist monk , told me the other day that you should never quit you trial to conquer mount everest. But mount Everest seems to be growing and I seem to never achieve any check point in its climbing. Should I give up ? What if I can't? What if I am so into this I just can't give up right now? What if I know that the thing , that prize which is taken, is up there? I want it , I yearn to have it and still know I can't achieve it in some ways but I possibly can in others .
I need to find myself. And I can only find myself in unimportant , irrelevant actions which bring me closer to some check point on Everest , but the check point seems to be far away.
And the prize , oh the prize . It's helping me. The prize is helping me to reach it. It's an electric bound and sometimes when I look up and I can distinguish it and i can almost feel its gaze upon me , I feel as if I am shattered into 1000 pieces and then reborn . But still , the prize does not know it's going up , it's just something like the lottery , week after week growing and growing. Growing and slipping away.
I feel the need to escape all this , to leave it all behind and rediscover myself. Forget about the prize , the world, to reinvent myself. But still , I permanently have its sight in my view and I can't forget it. It's constantly fresh and constantly renewing.
it's firstly blank , then surprised , then electric , then constant. Neverevending.
But you know , I'm being stereotypical right now , but
it's just so typically me , that i shouldn't have a doubt that it's gonna go , gonna vanish into thin air.
But still , there's that what if. Wondering what it would have been like or even how it would be like. And I'm curious if just reaching the prize for one day would satisfy me. And would the prize be satisfied with its new , one-day owner?
So many questions. But , hell , we're only human , there's no time to answer it.
At least it keeps my head busy from all sorts of other crap.
Uh, I'm being messy about writing again but so what? It's already some sort of personal diary right here so there's no need in hiding.
and uh , i need some coffee , or some tea or something.
Good night ,
Iulia
It's almost like a touch. Like an image on a VCR that you keep playing over and over again and again . Just that it's a feeling. A look . There are so many memories , so many things we shared with others , so many things we would love to repeat , just that it's not possible in real world , but there are so many things that you can do inside your mind that it becomes painful, playing that VCR over and over again. It would be better to let it go , but when you discover that thing that suits your needs and you are perfectly conscious that it cannot be yours just because it's only one and it's already taken , you cannot act rationally.
And it's even harder to be aware of it. I mean , if I were sort of insane , not realising in which kind of shit I am getting in , it would be teoretically Ok. But , as I am not sort of insane , or at least that's what I like to think , I am realising perfectly what kind of shit I am getting in , iI am totally aware of what a big mistake I am doing. And still , I am not stopping , thing which is probably due to some kind of insanity in an incipient phase.
So repeating the VCR , being aware of it being wrong it's all upside down and I just can't help it.
I felt some sort of change in myself long ago and I have to be grateful for it to some people but I can't get to the point to understand the perception of others of my own change.Well , it's nice , I was surprised myself how fine it is to be popular and quite famous and knowing people that others would die to know , doing things for which others consider you special , but it's not enough. Never enough.
I am never satisfied. I am also aware that I am an exception for my generation , at least in my highschool , but still I am not ... what I want from myself. Being part of the stream is wrong but being against is also wrong. I feel I have no connection with school , there is no bond , I see no point in attending all those classes. Knowing better is depressing. Knowing that I am not the peak , but the bottom of the hill it feels wrong. Ashin Sopaka , a budhist monk , told me the other day that you should never quit you trial to conquer mount everest. But mount Everest seems to be growing and I seem to never achieve any check point in its climbing. Should I give up ? What if I can't? What if I am so into this I just can't give up right now? What if I know that the thing , that prize which is taken, is up there? I want it , I yearn to have it and still know I can't achieve it in some ways but I possibly can in others .
I need to find myself. And I can only find myself in unimportant , irrelevant actions which bring me closer to some check point on Everest , but the check point seems to be far away.
And the prize , oh the prize . It's helping me. The prize is helping me to reach it. It's an electric bound and sometimes when I look up and I can distinguish it and i can almost feel its gaze upon me , I feel as if I am shattered into 1000 pieces and then reborn . But still , the prize does not know it's going up , it's just something like the lottery , week after week growing and growing. Growing and slipping away.
I feel the need to escape all this , to leave it all behind and rediscover myself. Forget about the prize , the world, to reinvent myself. But still , I permanently have its sight in my view and I can't forget it. It's constantly fresh and constantly renewing.
it's firstly blank , then surprised , then electric , then constant. Neverevending.
But you know , I'm being stereotypical right now , but
it's just so typically me , that i shouldn't have a doubt that it's gonna go , gonna vanish into thin air.
But still , there's that what if. Wondering what it would have been like or even how it would be like. And I'm curious if just reaching the prize for one day would satisfy me. And would the prize be satisfied with its new , one-day owner?
So many questions. But , hell , we're only human , there's no time to answer it.
At least it keeps my head busy from all sorts of other crap.
Uh, I'm being messy about writing again but so what? It's already some sort of personal diary right here so there's no need in hiding.
and uh , i need some coffee , or some tea or something.
Good night ,
Iulia
sâmbătă, 10 ianuarie 2009
supradoza.
Chiar a inceput scoala acum o saptamana? Chiar am intrat
in acest an de 10 zile? Ma simt de parca ar fi trecut o
vesnicie.Abia astept ziua de maine si intalnirea cu Paul ,
chiar am nevoiede ceva ganduri mai bune dupa zilele
astea petrecute ca un soarece de biblioteca , la propriu ,
citind incontinuu si scriind pentru o amarata de
olimpiada care nu cred ca o sa mi aduca satisfactia
pe care speram sa mi-o aduca [ exista vorbe conform
carora ar fi aranjate locurile la nationala].
Ma doare capul si nici nu mai stiu ce vreau , stiu ca
trebuie sa depun 1 mie si una de cereri pentru tot
felul de evenimente in strainatate , trebuie sa ma
pun la punct la mate , la fizica , la info , ca sa fiu
sigura ca o sa si iau bacul peste 2 ani:).
Am sprijin , din fericire , din partea cui trebuie
si asta ma ajuta sa merg mai departe.
Azi mi-am cumparat , ca premiu pentru bataia
de cap, requiem for a dream , cartea. Am facut
bine ca nu m am uitat la film pana acum ,deci.
Mi se pare foarte interesanta ideea de drog,
ca fiecare avem cate un drog. Mi am dat seama
ca eu am avut puterea sa ma las de anumite
droguri. si sper sa am puterea sa o duc pana
la capat. De exemplu : dependenta de mess ,
la care am renuntat cu usurinta. Dependenta
[ care nu a fost niciodata dependenta , mai mult
o prosteala de-a mea ocazionala ] de tigari .
Dependenta de a auzi numai lucruri bune despre
mine. Dependenta de oameni.
Tot ceea ce ne inconjoara e drog. Si , din cate am
testat eu pe pielea mea , cel mai puternic si mai
periculos drog e dragostea. nu ca as avea eu o
mare experienta de viata. Dar stiu ca toate
vorbele din popor sunt adevarate. Dragostea
te orbeste , exact asa cum heroina sau cocaina iti
iau mintile. Nu mai stii care i realitatea , traiesti
in lumea ta , in care existati doar voi doi. Iar apoi ,
cand efectul drogului se termina , te simti gol ,
pustiit si mai vrei , nu vrei sa renunti asa de usor.
Si te reintorcila starea de letargie provocata de el .
Totusi , eu inca mai asociez starea de iubire cu
diverse suferinte provocate de indepartarea
de substanta drogului. am ramas oarecum blocata .
mi-aduc aminte de prima , sa-i zicem , prima dragoste.
mi-aduc aminte de primul sarut. Daca am trait
vreodata ceva apropiat de starea de drogat , atunci
aceea e starea. mi-aduc aminte cat de ametita si cata
lipsa de concentrare si cat el exista in mine atunci. Cat
din parfumul lui , cata nebunie si tinerete si necunoscut.
Cata dorinta de a pastra ramasitele momentului ,
amintirea , cata pasiune de a reveni , ca o noua injectie
care poate fi fatala , cata nevoie de o supradoza.
Da , iubirea e exact ca un drog. Sau , cel putin ,
sentimentele puternice ,coplesitoare , sunt droguri.
Si ma gandesc la placere. La placerea aia si le senzatia
de explozie din inima. Probabil ca in cazul unui drog
normal resimti aceasta placere si explozie la nivelul
creierului. Dar , amintindu mi sentimentele de atunci
si combinandu-le cu cele de acum ajung la o stare
de sufocare , de acaparare a intregului corp.
Simt ca nu mai am aer si ca nu ma pot gandi decat
la asta. mi-aduc aminte in clipele alea ca eram atat
de emotionata si de molesita incat tot corpul imi
parea greu si nu puteam sa tin ochii deschisi , era
un fel de somnolenta alerta.
si pana la urma , de ce sa refuzam drogurile? sunt
unele droguri nocive, de proasta calitate care ne fac
mai mult sa suferim decat sa fim in extaz si evident
exista si marfa buna , care merita totul.
tu de care marfa esti? Marfa buna sau proasta? Ma poti
aduce la extaz sau ma poti face doar sa sufar?
Ah , tinerete, imbata-ma!
Julie
in acest an de 10 zile? Ma simt de parca ar fi trecut o
vesnicie.Abia astept ziua de maine si intalnirea cu Paul ,
chiar am nevoiede ceva ganduri mai bune dupa zilele
astea petrecute ca un soarece de biblioteca , la propriu ,
citind incontinuu si scriind pentru o amarata de
olimpiada care nu cred ca o sa mi aduca satisfactia
pe care speram sa mi-o aduca [ exista vorbe conform
carora ar fi aranjate locurile la nationala].
Ma doare capul si nici nu mai stiu ce vreau , stiu ca
trebuie sa depun 1 mie si una de cereri pentru tot
felul de evenimente in strainatate , trebuie sa ma
pun la punct la mate , la fizica , la info , ca sa fiu
sigura ca o sa si iau bacul peste 2 ani:).
Am sprijin , din fericire , din partea cui trebuie
si asta ma ajuta sa merg mai departe.
Azi mi-am cumparat , ca premiu pentru bataia
de cap, requiem for a dream , cartea. Am facut
bine ca nu m am uitat la film pana acum ,deci.
Mi se pare foarte interesanta ideea de drog,
ca fiecare avem cate un drog. Mi am dat seama
ca eu am avut puterea sa ma las de anumite
droguri. si sper sa am puterea sa o duc pana
la capat. De exemplu : dependenta de mess ,
la care am renuntat cu usurinta. Dependenta
[ care nu a fost niciodata dependenta , mai mult
o prosteala de-a mea ocazionala ] de tigari .
Dependenta de a auzi numai lucruri bune despre
mine. Dependenta de oameni.
Tot ceea ce ne inconjoara e drog. Si , din cate am
testat eu pe pielea mea , cel mai puternic si mai
periculos drog e dragostea. nu ca as avea eu o
mare experienta de viata. Dar stiu ca toate
vorbele din popor sunt adevarate. Dragostea
te orbeste , exact asa cum heroina sau cocaina iti
iau mintile. Nu mai stii care i realitatea , traiesti
in lumea ta , in care existati doar voi doi. Iar apoi ,
cand efectul drogului se termina , te simti gol ,
pustiit si mai vrei , nu vrei sa renunti asa de usor.
Si te reintorcila starea de letargie provocata de el .
Totusi , eu inca mai asociez starea de iubire cu
diverse suferinte provocate de indepartarea
de substanta drogului. am ramas oarecum blocata .
mi-aduc aminte de prima , sa-i zicem , prima dragoste.
mi-aduc aminte de primul sarut. Daca am trait
vreodata ceva apropiat de starea de drogat , atunci
aceea e starea. mi-aduc aminte cat de ametita si cata
lipsa de concentrare si cat el exista in mine atunci. Cat
din parfumul lui , cata nebunie si tinerete si necunoscut.
Cata dorinta de a pastra ramasitele momentului ,
amintirea , cata pasiune de a reveni , ca o noua injectie
care poate fi fatala , cata nevoie de o supradoza.
Da , iubirea e exact ca un drog. Sau , cel putin ,
sentimentele puternice ,coplesitoare , sunt droguri.
Si ma gandesc la placere. La placerea aia si le senzatia
de explozie din inima. Probabil ca in cazul unui drog
normal resimti aceasta placere si explozie la nivelul
creierului. Dar , amintindu mi sentimentele de atunci
si combinandu-le cu cele de acum ajung la o stare
de sufocare , de acaparare a intregului corp.
Simt ca nu mai am aer si ca nu ma pot gandi decat
la asta. mi-aduc aminte in clipele alea ca eram atat
de emotionata si de molesita incat tot corpul imi
parea greu si nu puteam sa tin ochii deschisi , era
un fel de somnolenta alerta.
si pana la urma , de ce sa refuzam drogurile? sunt
unele droguri nocive, de proasta calitate care ne fac
mai mult sa suferim decat sa fim in extaz si evident
exista si marfa buna , care merita totul.
tu de care marfa esti? Marfa buna sau proasta? Ma poti
aduce la extaz sau ma poti face doar sa sufar?
Ah , tinerete, imbata-ma!
Julie
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