Dar cumva sa indraznesc sa ma simt vesela fericita binedispusa vioaie si entuziasmata? Ma entuziasmez numai cand scriu chestia asta. Si e asa bine. O fi de la citit cartea aia minunata in fiecare zi in metrou. Mai nou parcurg distante considerabile cu metroul asta.
Mneah mai bine nu indraznesc. 
Dar2
opa
Aw snap. De cateva zile incoace…mara a disparut complet. Cred ca si-a luat bagajele si m-a lasat. 
Ce ma fac? Simt ca jumatate de cap, ba chiar 3 sferturi e gol…e calm, liniste, pustiu. Nu mai vreau nimic, nu mai astept nimic, si nu inteleg de unde atata blazare! Cred ca prea multi baieti la un loc duc la asemenea suprasaturatii.
Quote 2
“March 14, 1969: Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.”
on with the slaughter!
Time travelling
Chiar daca timpul care merge inainte ar putea intr-o zi merge inapoi, reluand eveniment cu eveniment in ordine complet inversa, cu punctele culminante gresit gravitational fata de cum am fi noi oamenii obisnuiti, toate s-ar puncta exact la fel.
Ar fi dealuri punctate de gauri seci, in asa fel incat in orice directie ai lua-o tot intr-o gaura neagra si ascutita dai.
Si chiar, culmea, cum merge timpul in mod normal e cel mai bine! Cel mai…uman.
So much for time travel.
catre anumiti tineri. avangardisti, pionieri, care imping tara catre culmi ale progresului
Imi pare rau. epic fail. Am pierdut punga de fistic, si e nasol sa nu ai punga de fistic cu tine in buzunar tot timpul. Sau macar din cand in cand. E nasol sentimentul constant ca ai aruncat punga, cu toate ca mai era fistic in ea. Era cam verde oricum.
Nu regret de fapt ca nu mai e punga, ci gestul.
Dar daca nu ai avut rabdare ce pot sa iti fac.
