Give Me a Pen…

walking on the streets with garlic flavours and silly ideas crossing my mind. discovering walls, stones, cafes, markets, supermarkets, new smells, new corners. In certain hours of the afternoon glinding myself like a shadow into the people`s rumpus, helmet eye on windows, losing myself and returning on the known streets. Apparenly, in the last months this was the main occupation, to leave my mind wandering in its own way, without trying to catch up like I used to do so often. dilution here, concentration in word page.

Finally, I opened last night, after two months break, the file where I saved a good part of the Camino journey. I extract it from “Drill`s Poetry” because everything was still in but it`s something else. although I wanted to build all the crazyness in some sort of articles, I realize, while am I writing, it’s more than a reportage, more than one story. I don`t know yet where I will publish it, I know just where I will NOT publish it. The important thing now is that nobody rushes me to finish it, when, when WHEN???, COME ON, COME ON, FINISH THE FUCKING BOOK, it`s show time, it`s BOOKFEST time, It`S SCANDAL time, LET`s SELL some books… some even think that the novels of any kind shall be made on the tape rolling as screws or skirts from Apaca. But when it comes “Show me the money time”, hahahaha… well, anyway… only now I`ve found some answers which then walked through my head, a real hell that time when I was searching the right respons to what really bother me, and very well I don`t want to hurry now with anything. I`m not so eager to finish good things, just want to end up nasty affairs. I`m tired to screw things up big time.

However, in the kitchen, I`m still a disaster. I have no imagination there. my hands are clumsy and all the food is on the floor, on the walls, on my feet, clothes, hair, everywhere but not in my pot. I know how to handle a pen, how to mix my thoughts with my feelings, but food is still a mistery for me. I think the biggest victory that I will be tasting this year it will be when someone will lick the plate after I`ll cook some shit.

Otherwise, Spanish adventure is materializing poco a poco. exchange of mails with one Julio Espinosa Guerra from Escuela de Escritores (penetrating name, pleasant voice, or maybe it`s language lisping fault). finally we succeeded to understand each other, I do not speak Spanish, he doesn`t speak English. well… as I understand Spanish, he understands English, so… hombre, we have something here. I decided to delay for the April the meeting with the El Herald, March is totally break off Spain. `till then maybe I will manage to habla something, not to talk about writing … and there is no something about big secrets in writing materials that someone should reveal me, and teach me how to handle my pen, it`s about how style is quite different here. first of all, you won`t meet the furious sulphuric sarcasm that empoisened Romanian newspapers, because here, not only here, the articles are based on facts and evidence, not on suppositions and subjective opinions.

as fast and ready to solve the problems are people here, as slowly the things are moving home, it`s like they are rolling by the corpse or at least at the people finishing their ultimate breath. And then when I put plugs in, they immediately jump on your neck saying that I really look trouble with the candle. Of course I do, you, dead meat, you, who steps twice in the same place and all for nothing, you, who are spinning around like a helm in a bucket just for making/saying/fucking bulshit, you, who are scratching your head `till the dandruff scares of you, and if I put a little lighting to your ass for free you can kick 7 m away, I still do what I have to do, with or without you, crisis man … another excuse to show me you’re fucked.

this crisis … another instrument handling and manipulating idiots. Romania is in crisis for years, but now has the impression it lined up to the world.

Why I have put this title? Oh, yeah, it went through my head, like a rocket, all the hammer drill … and I promised once I will never do this again …