Cum conving un sofer inrait sa aleaga bicicleta in locul masinii? |

…

You have to have the nicest jeans, or the cutest purse, or say the newest thing so that catches on. You have to be skinny, you have to buy this, wear this, say that, be on his side, her side, be neutral, have white teeth, have straight teeth, your hair can't be frizzy, and you can't wear that because it just doesn't "work" anymore. You have to go to parties, be friends with everyone, trust no one, pose like this, smile like that, tilt your head this way, and put your hand on your hip, because that's how it is. And let me just say: FUCK ALL of that!

No duties. I don't have to be profound. I don't have to be artistically perfect. Or sublime. Or edifying. I just wander. I say: "You were running, that's fine. It was the thing to do." And now the music of the worlds transforms me. My planet enters a different house. Trees and lawns become more distinct. Philosophies one after another go out. Everything is lighter yet not less odd. Sauces, wine vintages, dishes of meat. We talk a little of district fairs, of travels in a covered wagon with cloud of dust behind, of how rivers once were, what the scent of calmus is. That's better than examining one's private dreams and meanwhile it has arrived. It's here, invisible. Who can guess how it got here, everywhere? Let others take care of it. Time for me to play hooky. Buena notte. Ciao. Farewell ...

Cum conving un sofer inrait sa aleaga bicicleta in locul masinii?

Traim in Romania, aici (nu) merg dulcegariile: eu nu conving, ci ii spun cu frumosul. In cazul soferului amator de noxe, lucruile stau asa:

- omul are o masina la care sigur tine fooooooarte mult, si asta pentru ca 1. a investit bani in ea, 2. nu stie sa mearga pi jos

- omul … si-ar da si nevasta, daca asa si-ar putea salva masina (hai sa fim seriosi, cati nu ar face asta?)

- omul cand se simte in pericol, cedeaza.

Vin eu si vreau sa il conving sa se urce pe bicla si sa isi lase masina in garaj, iar daca am noroc doar ma injura. In a 2 a zi, vin aceeasi eu si stau pe locul unde era parcata masina si ghici: nu e masina. Unde e, dar vai?

Eu stiu, pentru ca eu am sunat si am cerut sa fie ridicata pentru ca este parcata prost/neregulamentar sau pentru ca a luat foc. Gica Contra panicat, isi smulge ultimele fire de par de pe cap si cauta solutii in creierul ala de gaina.

Eu … ii dau o bicicleta. Nici nu il conving si nici nu il oblig, ci ii ofer o posibilitate, care s-ar putea sa ii placa. Sa nu uitam: tuturor ne e teama sa iesim din rutina, asa si catarul din poveste.

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010, 02:15 | Category Write my life story ... | Rss RSS feed | Comment Respond | Trackback