Of stamps and paper

I’ve noticed a few days ago while passing the mail boxes in the entry to my building that a lot of me is in the post. This is quite a new thing, my usual method of transportation is trains, it’s where i feel most comfortable, really. The smell and the texture of the old CFR seats has many memories attached to it. The idea of having so much in the post, traveling from hand to hand is frightening, it’s a release of control i dislike. There is also a certain thrill attached to this. My future is in the post, traveling to and from Sweden. Portfolios, letters certifying my trustworthyness to the world. Proof of my work, my mind and my very existence is traveling around in small parcels made of dead trees. I put them in a box and wait.

The symbols of my political ideals are also gently traveling in similar, though i hope sturdier parcels. They are late, as reactions and politics often are. It’s expected of them, in a way. You never really realize what you want until you risk losing it all. If you’re lucky you get to have a choice in the matter, or at least an opinion you shout out to anyone who will listen. Politics is a deaf old hag, isn’t she?

Fate was snowed in recently, not even managing to get going well before quitting. I guess it’s part of it’s nature. There are always two sides to a cont and many faces to a die. The only way to beat fate, in my experience is to keep going until one of you is dead. You either win or you lose but at least you know where you stand with that and have no regrets. I believe in re-rolls, and in forcing life to your will. Worked with the post, i have my symbols of fate in my hand. Now give me a roll…

I can’t decide if i want to use the post more or less, for many more things. One thing is certain, I miss the train.

Like a dancer unstrung

Beware of shadows bearing gifts, or so the Malazan Book of the Fallen says, only to prove to us that in the end it’s all shadows and the dust of all we could have been.

Good evening. I thought it time we had a little talk.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin…

It has been, in the last few years when i’ve learned and grown enough to appreciate it, a constant pleasure to know that we actually have freedom of speech. People might not listen, and people often do not care. Dissemination and distractions abound, but all in all you’ve been free to say whatever you want on the internet. As a /b/tard i’ve been thankful and appreciative for all of this. I’ve seen things og great glory i otherwise wouldn’t have been able to, and i’ve seen horrible things i wish my mind could erase.  Some of them were under the copyright of one brand or another.

I guess you only appreciate these things when you see them going away. Today btjunkie.org closed down for good. They did this willingly, probably to avoid legal action seeing how it is now illegal to run a torrent site in Sweden.

ACTA is happening, i really don’t think it will happen at the first vote. It can’t there will be too much protesting, too much rage, too much trolling of the vote. I really hope it doesn’t pass. The bastards are doing this though, maybe not now, but it will happen. They have too much power for it not to happen. Damnit, this really makes me angry. I’ve always cared about freedom, both mine and the ideal freedom towards which we should strive as a society and lately i’ve been seeing it taken away, piece by piece. Granted, there are many pieces that i give little shits about. The right to have a chicken as a pet for example is something i can live without.

My line comes with ACTA, and my ability to express whatever opinions i may have, even if they include the words ”Sony is shit”. I want my movie reviews to have bits of movies in them, so i can use their flaws as examples, i want many things that will be illegal. I DO NOT want my data searched when i travel around the world. I find this offensive and frankly i’d rather like to avoid sticking USB sticks into strange parts of my body in order to smuggle data around like some sort of Johnny Mnemonic clone. This is all so silly.

I understand why you wouldn’t care, of course. But think about it like this. The CEO of megaupload was arrested, sent to trial and convicted in what i think was less than a month, you can check it out if you like. He was also sentenced to 50 years in a US prison. The US doesn’t have prison terms that long for rape. This is the one time in my life i’ve seen the justice system in a allegedly ”free” country (yeah US, sure you are) take so little time to do anything, and of course it would do so only in order to bend the knee to pressure groups from the big entertainment industry.

This is, or so i like to think, the place where many of my generation draw the line. All the /b/tards, all the 9gagers and all the rest of the internet will probably rage about this like people haven’t raged in the western world in a while. And i shall probably rage with them. There’s an interesting facet to all of this, because this will probably not be peaceful, this won’t be calmly sitting in a diner waiting to be served as you get pummeled with fists.

This is that moment when you feed all the trolls of the planet, and if there’s one thing every one of those trolls have on their computer is the SAS manual for guerilla warfare. So this will be really interesting, because this will not be peacefull, this will probably be more akin to terrorism than anything else. The V masks are coming out, and the DDOS attacks are the first things to pop out, but when people in the polish parliment protest wearing V masks it’s a sort of approval, the meme starts going and you end up with a Stand Alone Complex situation where everyone shall troll what they perceive as symbols of power to a great degree. I am really looking forward to all of this, by the way, I bought a Guy Fawkes mask the other night.

This is really a good time for all the governments to think if they are afraid of waking up the beast that is their populace, because if anything will do it, this will.

I tell you, if shit gets real I’ll really miss the Geneva convention, because i don’t think we’ll be getting those rights anymore at that point.

Introductions

    The first thing thought that pops in my mind is that the back of my head is wet. The sounds of a waking city holler in my ears in time with the pain in my brain.Sharp pain stabs me in the eye when i first try to open it, the right side of my brain burns to the back of my head. Oww. Lucky me, the left side of my face is still numb from last night, I’ve never been a good decision maker and i’ve been proven right in that again. Deciding it’s time for the first bar fight of my life after that 5th glass of Austrian Spiced Rum (i’m never drinking that again!) was probably one of the least clever decisions of my life. What the hell was i thinking…. oh, right, chicks dig scars…. Seems legit.

    I try to get up, but all i manage to do is get on my side and heave, but in a lazy way. The pavement feels cold against my face for a while longer while i rest a bit and try to get used to the light and the thousand angry goats grazing on my brain. After a minute or so it’s clear that while the goats aren’t seeking greener pastures at least i can now handle the light as the reflection of London’s iron sky is silently judging me from a bit of broken glass propped up on a wall. I try and get up with that gentleness that you only see in hungover people the world over. It’s a feeling of expected pain  that’s mostly never as bad as the actual thing. In this case it was, because apparently someone’s been trying to see if they can violently fit their fist  in my left eye socket. When i’m comfortably on lean on a wall and check my pockets and my face. My wallet and phone are surprisingly still in the  inside pocket of my trenchcoat, right were i left it. My face apears to have gone through some redesign work but heck, all the old things seem to still be where i left them. The London night seems to have been quietly merciful on both those accounts.

     I add a token gesture of  trying to shake off the recently aquired grime from my white but now filthy shirt, black jeans and dark green tie. I’m not even gonna bother with the trenchcoat that’s been a staple of my style ever since I started reading Raymond Chandler novels a couple of years back. I’m a photographer, you see, and in this business it’s all about the image you offer to people, much like if i were a hooker. In my case i found that what clients appreciate is an asshole in a trench-coat telling them their ideas are shit. Hey, don’t look at me like that, it pays the bills… most of the time.

     Something buzzez at my chest, probably my phone, i’d hate to think my heart’s in such a mess at this age that it sounds like some old american cars that are still around. The phone reminds me i have to pick up my new business cards all the way from the other side of town.

     After 5 blocks of walking i’ve been stopped and ID checked by Metro twice now. I’m adding one of the old press passes that i keep in my wallet to the lapel of my coat. That usually makes them look the other way. In the tube i get mostly only strange looks and people carefully avoiding eye contact with the creepy guy that looks like a bum. Several awkward stares later i get out and go into the office building where my printers try and churn out gaudy things for their own clients. The doorman luckily recognized me even in this sorry state, he even politely asked if i was alright.

     I walk into the printers, the door goes buzz so as to alert everyone in hearing distance about my disheveled self and that i am indeed tracking London mud on their carpets. I’m sure the buzz makes it all better. The lady at the orders desk just gives me that blank stare she uses for me most of the time, it’s both amused and judgemental. I have no idea what it really means.

     I clear my throat and ask her if my cards are ready. She silently pushes a full envelope towards me on the desk, never breaking eye contact. I hate it when she does that. I tell her thanks and that she should add it to my tab and quickly scurry away. The door goes buzz as i flee the room.

     In the elevator i open the envelope and check one of my cards. The paper is heavy and solid, almost but not quite white with a subtle texture that reminds you of books and old secrets. On one side there’s a faded peacock design in an art nouveau style, on the other my contact details in lovely old-school serifs that are both provocative and educated, the text is more or less what i sent them:

Andrew Taro

photographer, intrepid explorer

andrew@taro.eu

A two wheeled learning experience

Picture source: Velominati

It’s fairly important that i mention: I only learned how to ride a bike when I was already an adult, so I was pretty late to that party. I had a shitty mountain-bike in high-school, it had a short life, died, and then the rest of it got stolen, such things happen. After that i took a serious and dedicated break to pursue other seemingly important things in life, like getting into college, studying at college and getting on with my photography, developing a personal style and what not. But something still felt off…

At one point i started craving freedom, the ability to go where i please, i noticed something stirring deep in me as i watched road bikes going past me on the street. Something had to be done! and i was pretty certain i knew what: BIANCHI!

Several weeks and 100 euros later i was well on my way to becoming a spandex clad pedaling machine on my brand new old Bianchi Campione del Mondo. This was something i had never felt before. The smoothness of a road bike, how it floats through the streets of the city, how it glides. This was freedom, I was flying! I think that’s the time when i really got hooked, those first few days on my first road bike. I started doing longer and longer rides on my own and eventually made a few friends to go on rides with, i still talk to most of them. It’s amazing how bikes bring people together.I think I’ve only met two people in my life  that I dislike while on bike rides. And even that was easy to bear because of the enviroment.

I’ve gone through many bikes since then and am now settled with a alu/carbon Bonetti with Campagnolo bits and Marchisio wheels, but that’s not really relevant. In these two years of pedaling that I’ve done i’ve learned much from this hobby of mine, because i dare not call it a sport though I guess I understand why some people would. For me it’s much more than a pastime, but then again I take all the things I do very seriously indeed. It’s a way of life, much like photography, and from it i’ve managed to extract some important life lessons that i’d like to present to you, in no particular order:

1. I’ve learned to enjoy solitude.
2. I’ve learned to suffer with a smile.
3. I’ve learned I hate headwinds.
4. I’ve learned that there are things that can always bring people together.
5. I’ve learned who I am, mapped some of the paths of my own mind and i have an inkling of how i work, at least in some respects.
6. I’ve learned that motivation is everything.
7. I’ve learned that friendship is the best thing you can ever offer anyone, and the best thing you can ever get. (sometimes it’s a metaphor made into a spare tube from a total stranger)
8. I’ve learned that i love the rain.
9. I’ve learned how to see beauty in the white line on the road.
10. I’ve learned that mud is great fun, and so is getting really dirty.
11. I’ve learned to have (some) consistency in my efforts.
12. I’ve learned where i have to look inside me to pull out that extra bit of power and commitment, and it was a pleasant discovery to find out what exactly is in the middle of my being.
13. I’ve learned that losing is irrelevant, all the victory you’ll ever need is knowing you did your best.
14. I’ve learned that La Volupte is not just something that happens to other people.
15. I’ve learned that La vie Velominati is a beautiful life.
16. I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to be belgian about it.
17. I’ve learned that if you don’t get going you’re never gonna get where you’re going.

Of determination

    This is quite relevant, I think. I’ve long wanted to explain some things i’ve decided in the recent years since i’ve not written on the blog. Much has changed in me and I can’t help but feel I may be on to something here. I had gotten old and jaded for a while there. Dreams weren’t important anymore, there was comfort, there were clients and there was life… more or less.

I’m quite pleased that changed, really. Since then glorious things have happened that I’d never thought I’d get to see, but maybe life is all about surpassing your expectations from time to time. I keep hearing people talk of not believing in ideals anymore, in hope and in dreams. I have no idea how that feels right now, though i guess at times they seemed far away from me.

*shrug*

There is great worth in failing, if one does it in one’s own way. If you follow a dream, if you have a purpose, a quest, if you will. One does not simply walk into Mordor. But one can, and sometimes one does. It’s never anything but a fool’s hope, but that’s the only way to win. And that success comes even with failure. Because you made a point, even if to yourself.

There’s a quote that keeps coming back to me that I’d like to share again, and after that you’ll get the main point of this post:

Dust of dreams, dust of all that we never achieved. Dust of what we might have been and what we cannot help but be. – Stephen Erikson, Dust of dreams

 

Steadfastness is the indispensable quality of every man who one day does not wish to be obliged to say: “I have wasted my life.”

A man should not incessantly change with every impression of the moment, but should remain steadfast when he has once determined upon what is right. Of what use are the flowers if they do not produce fruits, and of good ideas if they are not transmuted into deeds? We must encourage stability, habituate ourselves to remain constant, and when we are sure that we are right, must fortify ourselves against invasion. Do not let criticisms or attacks disturb you.

Nothing is so difficult as to remain faithful. At each step of the way outside influences are brought to bear upon us to make us deviate or retrograde. And if there were only difficulties from without, it would not matter so much; but there are those from within. Our dispositions vacillate. We promise one thing with the best intentions in the world; but when the time comes to keep it, everything is changed–the circumstances, men, ourselves; and what duty demands of us seems so different from what we had foreseen, that we hesitate. Those who will fulfill on a rainy day a promise which they have made on a sunny one, are few and far between.

And so we go on casting our hearts to the four winds, giving it and taking it back again, breaking with our past, separating ourselves from ourselves, so to speak. And when we look behind, we no longer recognize ourselves. We see ourselves in the days that are past as a stranger, or rather as several strangers.

There is nothing like a steadfast man, one in whom you can have confidence, one who is found at his post, who arrives punctually, and who can be trusted when you rely on him. He is worth his weight in gold. You can take your bearings from him, because he is sure to be where he ought to be, and nowhere else. The majority of individuals, on the contrary, are sure to be anywhere but where they ought to be. You have only to take them into your calculations to be deceived. Some of them are changeable from weakness of character; they cannot resist attacks, insinuations, and, above all, cannot remain faithful to a lost cause. A defeat in their eyes is a demonstration of the fact that their adversary was right and that they were wrong. When they see their side fail, instead of closing up the ranks, they go over to the enemy. These are the men who are always found on the winning side, and not in their hearts would be found the courageous device: Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.

A profound duplicity, a discrepancy between words and deeds, between appearance and reality, a sort of moral dilettantism which makes us according to the hour sincere or hypocritical, brave or cowardly, honest or unscrupulous–this is the disease which consumes us. What moral force can germinate and grow under these conditions? We must again become men who have only one principle, one word, one work, one love; in a word, men with a sense of duty. This is the source of power. And without this there is only the phantom of a man, the unstable sand, and hollow reed which bends beneath every breath. Be faithful; this is the changeless northern star which will guide you through the vicissitudes of life, through doubts and discouragements, and even mistakes.

From Courage, 1894
By Charles Wagner

 

 

Via: AOM

it hunts

You get to your subject, get off the tram or out of the car. Bike, whatever.

You check your gear.

You look, you see. What’s going on? What’s this about?

What is the shot i need to take? What is the shot i WANT to take? What is the shot that will happen, the natural one that you don’t force. The one that tells the only truth you have to see?

Can i do all three?

Step close, listen to the crowd. Listen and watch for non-verbal cues. What’s the semiotic language available to me. What are the symbols, what do they mean?

I’ve listened and I’ve learned what i can say and how. I’ve seen the people and I’ve seen their eyes.

I move back.

I shoot the wide shot. The one with the most context, the one that defines what’s going on in clear, easy to understand ways. Street-signs, people, gestures and context tell the story. I have almost everything i need. But what do i want?

I get closer. People start being entities, not crowds. You catch faces, gestures. The big faces first, then the small, then both. After all, the big faces is whwat people care about, why you are there. This is work, no time for fun.

My eyes move over the crowd.

You hold the camera to your chest so people can see it, never hide it. They need to get used to you, to feel comfortable. Don’t blink. More calmly. This is Zen, this is where you’ve learned through hard work to live. It’s what you love, this is what I love.

I hunt, I snap. I try to explain what’s happening, what I think is happening. This is the moment where opinions matter.

I move closer.  My subject is lurking somewhere out there. The hunt is on. Keep moving. Things happen, people move, you notice beforehand what’ll go on. You position yourself, you check your settings. You wait for the moment.

It happens.

Click.

It’s over.

There’s nothing more in this. You feel it in your gut. You’ve lost interest. You’ve conquered, you’ve caught your prey. What else is there but a warm beer and the dream of the next hunt.  Photography has no slow victories, no lasting glory.

1/125 sometimes more, sometimes less.

Dear facebook, we need to talk

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t about me or about the people i know, It’s about you and how judgemental you are of me. Are my friends not good enough?! Is that why you constantly recommend people to me? I don’t think that’s ok. My friends are my choice. I have a limited number of slots for them in my head and that’s how it works. I want you to respect that. Even though I’ve seriously started just accepting aquaintances and people from work that’s not good enough for you.

It’s always ”try friend finder” or ”these people seem nice, let’s friend them” and when i tell you to go frack off you never accept it, you always feel like ou should have the last word. It’s never ” Ok Cyber, I won’t bother you with that again, i understand.” It’s always that fucking ”We’ll talk later about this when you aren’t in a foul mood.” You really gotta start learning to take no for a answer. Is this me being antisocial? No. This is you being a bitch facebook, and if you keep doing this i’m stab you with a lemon.

Our awesome space battle. In SPACE!!!

The arena. Photo by Alex Vancu

”Laser tag is AWESOME!” Is pretty much the summary of this post, in case you don’t really feel like reading the whole thing. If you do however want to read the whole thing i recommend you use a childlike voice filled with glee, because that’s how it sounds in my head it’s how it was intended.

So after a clown touched me in a bad way with his balloon the other day Iulian, one of my party members, suddenly remembered that he had something to show us.  A space bar taht has laser tag and is conveniently placed near the center of town, where we were. We go see, because ne needed to waste some time and frankly a place called Space Bar sounds like it could be the place to spend it. Inside we find a great bar with monochrome designs that look like the future. They also have evil egg shaed swivel chairs. *swoon* We are impressed by this but then the guy asks if we wanna see the laser tag court. Yes, yes we damn would. OMG!!!!! It looks like SPACE!!!!!!!!!!!! I had the strangest boner as i went through that maze of neon and dark light where everything looked radioactive. I’ve never in my life been in a real map from Unreal Tournament or AvP. This was it, this was gold. This is our new gaming den. A DM on a evil swivel chair seems like a natural choice.

Today we want back there after some frantic searches to find enough people with enough free time and enough free cash so we can do this. Eventually all my expectations we’re exploded into space when we actually managed to get more than the minimum of players. We were 8 in the end. Me, Jew, Iulian, Alice, Motzi, Milena, her fiancee and her brother.

”So, what are we playing. Team deathmatch or free for all?”

”FREE FOR ALL!!!!!! PURGE THE UNCLEAN!!!!”

And purge it we did. After A quick  talk about the rules that went something like this: ” The first rule of space is that there are no rules, the second rule is that you shouldn’t run DOWN that ramp or you’ll  die.”

Then we go in and all hell breaks loose. Lasers and D&B music are everywhere. I feel like I’m Commander Shepard or some sort of poor PDF guy killing xeno scum. At first you run, and you frag. This keeps going and eventually you tire. You hear your own breathing and your eyes move quickly through the maze looking for the blinking lights of another player. A enemy. Sometimes you get him, sometimes he gets you but perspiration starts dripping from your nose and soon you also hear your heart along with your laboured breath. What the hell, this is only 20 minutes, how much longer is this going on. You meat your enemy in a convoluted memory of a shootout. Everyone looses many times and you start feeling more and more tired. Adrenaline keeps you going after that. It’s a war, and war never changes. It’s either you or him and you’ll do everything in your power to make sure it’s him.

The best moments of that game were the small moments of friendship. Of a pat on the back when you die, or when you kill someone. It’s a small thing but it means a lot. It’s the moment that separates it from the true hell of war. It’s the camaraderie of battle without it’s pain. It’s pure unadulterated fun.

We’ll be doing this every week now. It’s a great way to make friends and a great way to get to know yours better. In my group we’re all battle brothers. We’re a party of adventurers, it’s how we know each other but laser-tag came to complete taht and take it to new levels.

 

Oh, and Alice took a  gun to the face somehow. Don’t ask me how, I didn’t do it.

Changes

 

Somewhere out there

I’m sipping from a mug of tea. It’s my favorite, Lapsang Souchong. Nothing has ever come close to the effect it’s aroma and smell have on me. They nourish  ideas of comfort and invite detachment from the dark corners of the world to which my mind often wonders. The dark corners are the places my subconscious bids me to travel while my mind  pulls me apart from them and proposes I never leave the comfort of my chair. Can uncomfortable armrests ever be the worst of my problems? I don’t think so. A life where uncomfortable armrests are a real issue isn’t exactly a life. Fuck those armrests.

I’m restless these days. It has something to do with recent events in my life. I’ve found passion again. I feel it in my blood. How could something so small have such a wide ranging effect?

It’s been years…

I have returned to my dire need of adventure. The Capa calls to me. So does La Vie Velominatus. And so does art, if you can call what I do art. I have started to because many people have called it that too, and I’ve been informed that it’s OK to name yourself that when it’s common knowledge that art is what you do and people treat it as such. Mind you, clients probably never will. But people, the good, bad and ugly. I had forgotten how the lack of comfort feels. I like it. The chair nags at my brain and i find myself holding a camera just because. The sound of the shutter is as romantic as it always was and I need to explore all the dark places of the world and bring them under the hard, judging light of my flashing judgement. I was never really a journalist. I always care, I always get involved and I always express a point of view. I’ve never really believed in Truth, just in points of view. I guess studying journalism taught me that one.

One day i may have the courage to photograph parts of my own life. My cravings and my needs. My loves and my hates. I’ve always avoided that. I never photograph love, and I rarely photograph friends. What could be harder than to lose  those and still have your stills ready to watch and be watched. Memories change. Negatives don’t. They sometimes age with you but that seldom is enough. I fear this may be my biggest failure. Some day the adventure will take me to my front door. But once there what will i do?

There are many times I’ve though I should stop caring. About my subjects, about life, etc. I was sometimes close to thinking that’s what should be done because it prevents pain. Man, those times were stupid. There’s nothing better in this world than caring, even if it’s the stupidest thing you could do (it always is). Everything ends, and it mostly ends horribly but that’s the charm. One must care. Otherwise where’s the adventure?

The trench-coat adoration post

My old trenchcoat, not as cool and the picture is meh, but I'd rather not steal something from the internet.

I imagine you can guess what my favorite bit of clothing is, what with it being in the title of this thing. It sometimes switches to tweed but all in all I think the trench-coat is the defining work when it comes to my personal ideas  and style.

It all started a few (3?) years ago when is started reading Hellblazer. It took me a few good months to read the whole collection of hellblazer and by the end I almost started smoking. It seemed natural that I should. Then again at this point I might mention that I’m pretty easy to influence by awesomeness and John Constantine is nothing if not awesome. But I’m not gonna start smoking. It’s not my thang`. I find it disgusting even in others, though I try to respect their choices and not let them know how much it sickens me to smell that thing. Me, I like tic-tacs.

Anyway… I wasn’t gonna start smoking, but I must take something away from all of that and what i got, it turns out is a very deep love of trench-coats. Not just any trenchcoat, It must be the perfect trench-coat. It must be beige. It must be appropriately long, It must have a pretty solid material that doesn’t look like all shit and it must have proper shoulders, epaulettes and all the other beautiful things that make trench-coats so gloriously bad-ass. If you don’t get what I’m saying just ask Bogart, Constantine, Dr Strange, The Spirit or any other trenchcoat wearing bad-ass. But this is real life. We don’t get clothes that can change shape and style from one panel to the next so we have to do our best to get the perfect one if we want to exude the right attitude. I am not a sleuth or a spy or a wizard. I’m a photographer and usually i look like one (the giant camera is a big hint) but sometimes i wanna be a wizard. And then the trench-coat comes in. It makes me feel like a wizard. It helps me be misterious and it has the exact amount of flutter behind me that i need. Plus it protects me from the cold and the rain. What could be better? A duster? I’m sure Harry Dresden would say so, but then again he can wear whatever he wants.

The point is that I have found the perfect trenchcoat a few months back. It’s the most money I’ve ever spent on clothes and I’d do it again in a heartbeat because i feel as though it defines me and my moods. I love autumn, I love autumn so hard right now because it’s the perfect time to wear my trenchcoat through the deep fog of Timisoara’s evenings and pretend to brood and be misterious.

If one feels like a wizard, one is a wizard.

 

 

PS: I”M BACK!

Verde pentru Biciclete

You know, I really do apreciate the work these strange and slightly green tinted people do for my comfort when on a bike. Sure, it’s not really like buying me a new seat … even though my birthday is coming up and it would be a really nice gesture (I quite like the fi’zi:k Taurus and it would look good on my mountainbike, just thought I’d mention it). Anyway, they do seem to be making headway into making those obnoxious things that i will, for lack of a better word call ”bike lanes” on this city’s ruptured and bleeding sidewalks. Good for them and good for all of us who have but two leg powered wheels at out disposal at any given time. To show my apreciation for this (and get baloons) i try to go out to the bike marches through the city, mostly fun affairs (the last one even for me a nice bike shirt).

PICS FOR THE PICS GOD. <<<Many-a pic for download.

In a dark alley

Photo by Zorislav ''Z-Bone'' Stojanovic

It’s dark and cold on the city’s streets tonight. Autumn seemes to have made a timely arrival, covering the land with her windy veil. I can tell, she’s already wraped herself around my neck like a gealous mistress, clinging, suffocating. I hope the throat infection will dissapear soon, the coughing fits make a paranoid mind think of lots of things in the middle of the night when the only thing you share your bed with is one of them huggable pillows.

My mind returns to the streets i’m walking as an old garbage truck almost runs me over. It’s hard to think in this downpour and it’s even harder to see. The noodle stands are all closed in this district already, new laws from city central have cut down on all nightlife and all the seedy fun you can find in seedy places. I guess it’s just the price people pay to feel safer. With all the rapists and the thieves out in the rain, cussing bitterly instead of having a glass of the old cheap-and-strong going down their necks.

The rain starts getting in my shoes, the soggyness makes them no diferent from anything else i can think of at this point. It’s all soggy over here tonight, even dreams. I turn left down an alleyway. Lights dim as my eyes adjust to it quickly because i’ve closed them in the last few seconds on the well lit street, just in case any soggy surprises may be waiting for me on this rainy night. Somewhere around here my contact should be waiting for me but I came early. I set myself up in a dark corner that’s just as soggy as the damn rest and I wait. The rain goes through my trenchcoat like it’s made out of paper and i can feel my badge sticking to my chest. For a moment it’s even colder than the rain and my lonely thoughts, taking my breath away with an icy bite…damn plastic.

My contact still hasn’t showed up and i’m thankful i didn’t bring my piece with me. In times like these things that can break when wet should be left at home. Either way, interested eyes that know what to look for can see it on your shouldger and get crazy ideas, and you wouldn’t want that in this kinda town on this kinda night. The canon i usually have straped to my shoulder isn’t big enough or expensive enough for this kinda job anyway.I shrug away the creeping cold and have a fit of coughing that i feel ringing deep inside my head. I’m getting too old for…

And there she is, high heels on the cobblees ringing out in the night, her face obscured by the deeper darkness under her umbrella, she walks towards me and i reach into my pocket. She hesitates a moment but remembers herself and carries on, a real dame, this one. As she gets close i don’t say a word, distracted my her scent in the wind, dampened by the rain. I mindlessly take out the envelope in my pocket and she takes it away with a mumble, reaching for hwe own, i take it and look inside. I’m not worried, she’s not double-crossing me on this and the things in the envelopes don’t bet soggy in the rain. I nod and leave. ”Enjoy your wedding pictures.”

To be continued.

Conversations with a spambot

Kissy Cowherd: hi .. have we chatted before? 24/female here…you?
Gabriel Amza: I’m awesome
Gabriel Amza: no idea
Gabriel Amza: where did you get my ID?
Kissy Cowherd: i’m sorry ..i get to be forgetful at times!! how’re you??
Kissy Cowherd: hi baby
Gabriel Amza: you dirty whore
Kissy Cowherd: I’ll be your whore
Gabriel Amza: spambot, eh?
Kissy Cowherd: nah, I am a vegetarian…  no spam for me! haha
Gabriel Amza: really, how do you know me?
Kissy Cowherd: Just got out of the shower…long day been kind of busy! but i’m feeling naughty! so what’s up ….. want to have some fun?
Gabriel Amza: What is the meaning of life, the universe and everything?
Kissy Cowherd: I need a man that can make me squirt……have u ever made a girl squirt? lolz
Gabriel Amza: through her nose.
Kissy Cowherd: gonna change my clothes … want to see ?
Gabriel Amza: i’d like to see your liver on my plate.
Kissy Cowherd: miami
Gabriel Amza: Look, i think that at this point we both know  that we are now in a serious relationship. That being said, make me a sammich and get me a beer from the fridge.
Kissy Cowherd: uggh no i’m not are u???? lolz
Gabriel Amza: OMG, you like firefly too!
Kissy Cowherd: wanna play on cam?
Gabriel Amza: wanna play starcraft?

I hit my head today

Billy looked at the dark foreboding sky, his faser at his waist. It was useless now, it’s battery hadn’t run out. It was mostly the fact that it was a toy that made it more than useless. But faith gives power. The ongoing war proved that. In the sky a billion microscopic particles danced around in eddies. They were once houses, cars, cute puppies and, of course, trekkies and star wars fans alike. He crawled back into his mortar-made foxhole. Who would have thought belief would go that far.

The third war wasn’t caused by such beliefs as chrestianity, or muslims. It had nothing to do with the terrorist attack sthat happened around the time it started. That was just a sideshow attraction. The internet made a lot of things happen in the world. It brought cultures together and it allowed for unprefedented communication between the peoples of earth but they only really used it to watch twisted porn from other parts fo the world (a heads up to you here, Japan!) and to throw shit at one another becaause of diferences in opinion. SOmetimes just for the sake of it. It was for ”Teh LOLZ” as it were. The whole thing escalated insanely. Seeing the power they could wield the new masters of the most indoctrinated people in the world decided to fight each other in a long campaign that started with lolcats and demotivationals and ended in full fledged murder.

The bombing of Vulcan, Alberta by the Rogue Squadron started it all.

They had the wish but lacked the way to do it. Ebay, however, was there to help and sold them a couple of old B52s which they subsequently used to bomb the living daylights out of the place. When, in the light of this tragedy, all George Lucas did was laugh, Shatner rallied his troups.  Starfleet was born and in the coming war many a red shirt died on the blades of variously coloured lightsabers. Soon American Suburbia fell, followed by the cities. As all of civilisation fell to insane fandom. Soon, from deep in the wild, the great rednecks rose and atempted to gain their own territory. The war was then fought on three fronts. Neither of the parties even considering allies. Down are the days of infinite variety in infinite combinations. There can be only one winner in the great war of atrition that stretches the globe. Soon, nuclear fallout had come to pass.

Flashback done, Jimmy, no, wait, Billy, the Shatnerite in a foxhole created by a stray imperial morter round dies of a surprising hasbro lightsaber stab to the neck. His soul floated away through his fake vulcan ears in much the same way a brick doesn’t.

The ears themselves are another story alltobether, collected by squads of jedi and word around their neck to probe their skill.

Shutter Island REVIEW

Noul film al lui Martin Scorsese, Shutter island, este un film foarte bun(parerea mea). Urmeaza sa va explic de ce.

Atmosfera intretinuta este cheia intregului film. Cadrele si lumina de film noir abunda. Decorul si muzica sunt sinistre. Intreg contextul de insula furtunoasa cu un sanatoriu pentru oamenii violenti este si ea sinistra.  Personajele, pacientii isterici sau  suspicios de linistiti, disparitiile si inconsecventele, gardienii constant vigilenti si personalul tacut al spitalului. Intreg filmul iti da unsemtiment foarte dubios. E o mancarime psihologica pe care nu o poti plasa sau scarpina, un deja-vu, un sentiment de panica chiar sub suprafata. Ceva teribil se intampla pe Shutter Island. Ceva ce nu se intampla decat in locuri sinistre si furtunoase care au o istorie de violenta.

Intreaga actiune a filmului are loc pe o insula penitenciar Shutter Island. O insula la 17 km de tarmul USA. La inceputul filmului aflam ca o pacienta a disparut misterios din sanatoriul situat pe insula. Pentru a investiga disparitia, biroul US Marshals a trimis 2 agenti  Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) si Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo). Ajungand pe insula devin suspiciosi, totul este putin ciudat, privirile si atitudinile sunt fortate si putin la nealocul lor. Shutter Island ascunde ceva. Curand il cunoastem pe doctorul responsabil pentru azil, Dr. Cawley, jucat foarte bine de Ben Kingsley. In timpul interogarilor si a anchetei Agentul Teddy incepe sa isi dea seama ca secretul insulei este legat de propriul sau trecut. De lagarele de concentrare pe care le-a vazut cand era soldat in WW2.

De aici nu mai zic nimic despre asta pentru ca trebuie sa vedeti filmul singuri.

Actiunea are un pas alert care nu te lasa foarte mult stand linistit. Intamplarile sunt confuze, repetarile de flashback nu par repetitive deloc, fiind legate perfect in poveste si in pacing-ul filmului. Scorsese a incercat sa incurce si sa fascineze prin modul in care povestea este spusa.

Publicul devine detectiv, incercand sa isi dea seama ce se intampla pe insula. Atmosfera exceptionala si pasul alert fac drumurile la baie foarte grele de frica sa nu pierzi ceva esential si sa ratezi concluzia. Personaleje sunt si ele fascinante si excelent jucate. Iar derularea povestii, gandita foarte bine din pct. de vedere psihologic te lasa ghicind pana in ultimul moment. Concluzia este si ea epica, satisfacatoare chiar. Nu iti lasa in stomac un gol, o nevoie de a afla mai mult.

Shutter island este un film foarte bine gandit, jucat si regizat. Cu muzica si imagine care se completeaza excelent reciproc in crearea unei armosfere superbe de film noir. Mister si claustrofobie. Un film care merita vazut la cinema, cu popcorn si mountain dew.

Leonardo DiCaprio

I am fucking off to London, cica

A unrelated moustache being mildly optimistic.

I hate my life.

Asta cuget io azi in timp ce ascult ”All for me Grog” si ma gandesc sa imi iau pe mine tweed-ul si sa ma plimb prin oras ca un isteric in timp ce cuget in vesnicul meu pesimism la viata mea. La inceputul acestui an, intr-o bodega vesela care avea pe pereti doar femei dezbracate care isi ocupau timpul cu tot felul de fapte depravate am decis ca eu urasc Romania. Nu din cauza femeilor sau a birtului, ci din cauza lui Boc si a forfetarului. Iaca,  incep io optimist o firma in ideea de a-mi face un drum in viata cand vine guvernul si imi da in cap cu o bota noduroasa fiscala in mod repetat pana mi se scurge pe urechi orice farama de speranta pentru viitorul meu ca si om liber.

Imi urasc viata. Si pe tine, Boc, te urasc si mai mult. Te avertizez ca daca nu imi merge chestia cu master-ul vin dupa tine noaptea si voi inota intr-o cada plina de intestinele familiei tale. (sau macar asa imi imaginez eu ca sa imi linistesc nervi)

Acuma cica sunt in ultimul semestru de facultate. Am inceput prima saptamana cu 4 absente la 4 materii pe care nu stiam ca le am in aceasta dimineata. Trezit vesel mi-am facut o neterminata curatenie in camera si am continuat prin a ma interesa de master si chestii pe care trebuie sa le fac. Semestrul a inceput excelent, cu o restanta la singura profesoara care baga in mine frica mai  rau decat diabolica ciocolata alba pe care o detest de mic. Cu intrebari existentiale de: ”Oare in conditiile astea io macar termin facultatea?” am decis sa continui fara a ma descuraja. Teoria este ca in cel mai rau caz concussive maintenance rezolva toate problemele vietii.

Ma uit pe site-ul viitoarei mele universitati. It discomcobulates me.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

da.

In sfarsit gasesc. Aflu ca am nevoie de o groaza de chestii si ca am nevoie de ele repede. Ma apuc de ele in tandem cu scrisul la  licenta (Am scris 5 cuvinte in 3 luni. Numele facultatii de pe prima pagina.) amandoua merg bine pentru vreo 30 de secunde. In acest moment imi sare vesel in fata un coleg de la firma panicat ca vom muri cu toti in inchisoare datorita datoriilor firmei (nici nu suntem siguri daca are datorii,dar fotografii sunt animale suspicioase si neincrezatoare in legislatie, pradatorul nostru cel mai misel) incerc sa il calmez si imi dau seama ca nici eu nu sunt foarte sigur de ce spun. Decid ca e mai bine sa ignor toata problema si sa am grija de ea cand vine politia la usa. Totdeauna am vrut sa fiu un om al padurilor, ala ar fi un moment bun sa incep. Daca ala ar fi un moment bun pentru aia…  pe plan scurt asta ar fi un moment bun sa ma apuc serios de baut. E trecut de 10 dimineata deci este perfect etic. Nu sunt un betiv ordinar daca e trecut de 10 dimineata.

Up: The little house that could

I love blimps

I like movies, you know, and 2009 was one interesting year when it comes to movies. It had some great movies. Watchmen, Inglorious Basterds, AVATAR, Moon, Black Dynamite just to name a few of my favorites. I haven’t seen all of the great movies of 2009 and, to tell teh truth, they were all ”the greatest movie of the year” as i walked out of the cinema.  Still, i have to watch a few more. I didn’t see ”where the wild things are” and  the wolf man. Neither have i seen The duo of second comings that are New Moon and Transformers 2. I am however optimistic and so i hope never to see them unless i start killing children and eating their liver. In that case i expect to see them in hell. Anyway, let’s talk about my most recent ”Best Movie of the Year!!!”

Up is another one of those  generic heart warming Pixar movies that make you feel all warm and cuddly inside while making your eyes feel sweaty (probably because of all the warmth in your heart). It surprises me how they can keep these going so well, WALLEEEEE was much of the same pit of heart warming nonsence. It just didn’t reach me because it’s hard for me to relate to a monosilabic little dumpster and his upper-class MAC swwtie who has the same capability for speech (and therefore are macs any beyyer, i ask you?).

Anyway….

What a great story! The characters are excelent and, as far as i’m concerned, the writers deserve a pat on the back. and by pat on the back i mean a great big sack of money and a paid expedition to south america. They bloody well deserve it, let me tell you. The script was brilliant, the characters as well. The cinematography excelent and the soundtrack really enhanced the feel of the movie. I hope Pixar is pushing Up for the Oscars. it deserves a few at the very least. it’s incredible.

Not pictured in Up.

The background of it’s characters. Explained in the opening sequence gave me tears on more than one ocasion. It was heart touching and beautiful. No dialogue at all, mind you. Just great imagery taht utterly explains the story without needing text or a narator’s talkyness. (that’s the professional term, that) The rest of the movie follows that same lead. The dialogue is great and it really gives you a feel for the characters. The action follows and expands. Taking the characters: Karl Fredricksen (an old man who always planed for adventure but never got around to it)  and Russell (a young, over-eager scout) to strange and glorious places on a quest to fulfill dreams and witness the Spirit of Adventure!

PS: I’m surprised to finally see a generic yourn asian-american child for once. Instead of some sort of bland little twirp who speeks in a funni accenth as if we were taken straight out of some 40s cartoon.

UP had the same effect on me as a rather eager french prostitute named Butch would have It stabbed me right in the fucking heart (then proceded to take my wallet and leg it out of the cardboard box i was living in at the time). It was one of the most heart touching stories i’ve seen all year. The whole idea strikes a chord in me that few movies have matched. Thusly i seem to have been blubbing for a great part of the movie as if i was a french person who just found out he’s adopted and is, in fact, not french at all (it’s not as funny to witness though). All of the bits of the movie work great together, enhancing the feeling of it all. The movie did well in box offices and i hope it’ll be remembered in the colective consciousness of people who like good movies. May it age like fine cheese but with less mold.

I’m curious to know what you thing, so leave a message if you have an opinion you feel is worthy of sharing.

Election night.

I’m watching Twilight

Tocmai am inceput sa ma uit la twilight prima oara in viata mea.

SI a murit o caprioara, this movie is so action-packed!

asta cred ca e bella, care tocmai se muta intr-un oras micut prin de hobo people and what i think are Cthulhu worshipers. Fhtagn!

She has a cactus…way more cute than a dog. Nu.

Her dad mock fights a handicaped indian and then gave her a truck… cred ca vine la pachet with this guy cu plete care pana la urma  cica e varcolac.

She goes to highschool and it’s generic. Primeste glumele clasice de new guy and we get a classic montage and a creepy asian guy. She is the ”suffer in silence type” cica. She apeares to be emo….and has white skin.

Ha. Edward has a sister/thing….she doesn’t sparkle….but she’s hot.

HOTE TO SELF: Edward might have down syndrome.

Acuma she’s stalking him……best couple ever!

She stalks him, he goes in seisures and she falls prone on ice, din ce am inteles asta se intampla des.

I wasn’t paying attention to the movie for the last 3 minutes cause i started sending business emails.

Si am pierdut majoritatea povestii despre ochii lui Edward.

OMG HE SAVES HER LIFE LOL!!!! cat de generic plot machine poate fi intreg accidentul asta.

Random talk at the hospital….

Skipped ahead….

Si acuma he just threatened to rape her.

Also, indians hate vampires.

Tocmai am observat unghiurile interesante de camera specifice pentru bella si pentru edward,

”i’m not afraid of you” si acuma se plimba pe niste redwood trees, ON THEM! Crouching tiger, hidden dragon much?

Vampirii joaca baseball si acuma au venit ce ar putea fi personajele negative. HA!

Vampires aparently do not fight. They get into some sort of…turn based strategy battle stanced and wait for initiative and their turn.

They made peace. So Now edward wants to kill a guy….and go to canada too. It’s how they roll in canada.

During the rest of the movie i was talking to people on instant messanger.

It failed to keep my attention and aparently ended a while ago, what i was hearing was the ending credits music.

I have wasted time.