Arte, viziuni, asteptari... Wait.. Daufq is that?

Ok. Sa scrim. Buna seara. Dimineata asta, incercam ceva nou. Dar vedeti asta la final, nu stiu daca o sa se lege, sau daca o sa va placa, nevertheless, we can experiment.

Anyway. Legat de ceea ce am inceput, voiam sa vorbesc putin despre arta. Despre ce a fost, ce a ajuns, si ce va fi. Toata treaba asta a pornit de la trei clipuri, le voi link-uii aici pentru delectarea voastra audio-visuala. (Ah, da, this is going to be a longer than normal posting, due to the videos, mostly.)

Ideal, arta e o forma de exprimare a unor idei, si sentimente, corect? E vorba de viziunea artistului asupra unui subiect, si fie ca e o exprimare visuala sau auditiva a unor sentimente, sau situatii, in principiu arta trebuie sa exprime o poveste. Sa aibe un inceput, un continut si o incheiere. Trebuie sa aibe substrat si context, iar in cel mai fericit si aplaudat caz, o morala, sau o idee finala ce poate fi extrasa din respectiva piesa de arta. Iar asta se aplica in orice. De la pictura, la dans, muzica si film. Teatru sau literatura.

Patriotism, de ce da?

Intamplator nu am putut sa ignor in ultima vreme situatia din scumpa noastra tarisoara. (Si nu sunt ironic acum, vedeti mai jos).

Tot balamucul cu intrunirea Popularilor Europeni la Bucuresti, in acelasi timp cu mitingul USL-ist. (Stiu ca am zis ca nu fac politica pe blog, but bare with me a moment.)

Acum, eu stiu foarte bine ca in situatia socio-politica de astazi culoarea politica are mai mult, dar in general mai putina legatura cu definitia ei statutara. Si pana una alta, liberalii sunt socialisiti si socialistii sunt liberari, daca da bine in buletinele de vot. Sa nu mai zic de democrati care ajungi taranisti daca le arati o stampila, iar taranistii care... Astia nu mai sunt si punct.

Dar, indiferent, am avut placerea sa ma conversez cu un amic foarte bun de-al meu ce e foarte anti-Basist, el de felul lui, si foarte pro-USL-ist, ceea ce in general, nu ma deranjeaza. Fiecare face ce vrea el, and what's all. (Nu intelegeti ca eu sunt pro-Bashe). Imi spune cum se uita la miting (Daca era acolo sau nu, asta nu mai tin minte) si cum s-a umflat o vena pe tampla vazand un steag rosu PSD-ist.

Eu si prietenii mei jurnalisti

Buna seara. Si bine v-am regasit. Cred?

Nu stiu ce pot zice, azi doar aveam foarte tare chef de scris. Don't ask me why.

Anyway. Comming back to talking about people, I guess. I love people. I love people that thing their better than other people.

Si cel mai bine intra in tagma asta artistii si jurnalistii. Doamne, iubesc oamenii astia. Iubesc autismul lor. Sunt de-a dreptul geniali. Mai ales studentii, ca restul isi mai spala pacatele cand lucreaza la McDonalds, in timp ce-i rog sa nu puna ceapa pe BigMac-ul meu. Asa ca pe aceia ii iert... momentan.

Anyway. Sa incep. Nu stiu, am spus povestea cu "Prietenii mei jurnalisti" vreodata aici? Daca nu, hold on to your horses ladies and gents, 'cuz you'll have a blast.

Goodbye, at least for now...

Hei.

Mmm. Some fucked up shit happend in the past couple of days. I fucked up really, really bad and I pissed of and/or hurt some people I care about.

Funny about, it was pretty much about what I wrote here. So, I pretty much decided to stop writing for a while. Or, at least stop writing on the blog. Maybe I'll start again, or maybe again not. But for the moment beeing I think I should just stop here before I fuck even more things up.

Hoping for the best, I think. Hope I'll be able to come back some tie from now on saying that everything is a-ok... But, I highly doubt it, as far as it looks right now.

The fallen sky...

Hey! Third day, third post, third segment of pure awesome fantasy. :P I think. Let's go for gritty, yet semi-heroic with a pinch of devastation and war? What do you think?

The city seemed peacefull. It was nothing close to that, but from the ruins of the skyrise building they covered themselfs into it seemed so. The moon was breaking trought the iron clad clouds and they we're making camp there. H. was up on the iron beams of the destroyed building, searching, looking and providing cover with his .50 Barret. B. and Marie. we're cooking up some rations. The silence was almost painfull and they we're paying more attention to the sounds the wind made than what they we're doing, so no wonder half their cooking was chared to an undefined black shade. At least the food tasted the same, so they didn't bother to be horrified by the military rations they stole a couple of days ago.