beautiful

.
cause it's christmas time, actually.

some sort of homesick. or just sick.
think happy thoughts. think happy thoughts. think happy thoughts.
think fuckin' happy thoughts.

bits and pieces

„this city, charles schwab wine, californian weed, coffee high, rave, rooftops, shiraz, sounds of the police, party and bullshit, fucked up, gays, lesbians, glamour and fake fashion, beer, the more I see, mountains, julian pie company, summer, banana bungalow, please don't go sideways on my lips, drunks and AA meetings, you too? me too? we should fuck, drugs and promiscuous sex, free dinners, free bin, music, marriot, hilton, hard rock, pacific ocean, a cave at sunset cliffs, high roadtrips, fuck you, you fuckin' hippie, hippies in the streets sitting on sidewalks, homeless wheelchair riding weirdos, cockroaches in coffee cups, friends, god only knows, the days of awesomeness in the summer, sentimentul ca traiesti si esti tu si te recunosti si e bine, to not be afraid, and go for breakfast in the middle of the night and have coffee refills and wear hats and sing in a high pitch voice, and not sleep, and you can buy me a beer and hear my story and share long cigarettes, searching for that place you belong. but really now, no explanation, no mix of words or music can ever explain that untouchable feeling of being there and alive in that corner of time and place in the world. alive motherfucker!"

"26 Sept. 2009. San Francisco. 135 Saturn. Jeremy. Steep hill. Air mattress. Art. Music. Piano. Shower. Love. Broken luggage. But no broken heart. Need sleep. No! Fuck this place. It's making me feel like I could be a part of it. A small happy little part of it."

"To see the world. To live somewhere. To make tea in the middle of the night in someone's house, watching almost famous, looking for that uncut scene. Last times, last days, last nights, last good-byes. Ca in Almost Famous cand se termina vara si toti stiu ca the dream is over, toti pleaca acasa, one more concert, New York and then home. I'm a newborn hippie motherfucker, so fuck you! Jesus freaks out in the street, homeless people begging for change. Fuck the coins, I want change. The need for all that jazz. To not forget. Fuck the ending 'cause it don't matter."

Part III

San Diego Life. Lucky D‘s. The Hostel, The People, The Life, The Girls.

Cumva apuc sa scriu despre un loc dupa ce il parasesc. So here we are on the road again. California dreamin‘, road trippin‘, in masina on highway 101 cu Cri si Werner, un tip austriac pe care l-am cunoscut acum cateva zile pentru 5 minute in hostel si dupa l-am reintalnit in L.A. E un italiano-austriac din Südtirol, var cu cei mai frumosi doi baieti de pe lume. Longsleeves is the music, coffee our fuel. Heading to Santa Cruz, CA. The ocean‘s on the left, mountains on the right, here I am, broke, hobo-ing through the U.S. I‘m doing it for the thrill, let‘s go get lost. In momentul de fata nu mai avem bani, our last resort stopped being our last resort. Am ajuns in cel mai rau caz si nu ne mai putem folosi portita de scapare pentru cel mai rau caz. Yes, panic! I‘m hoping you‘ll understand and not let go of my hand.
So let‘s go back to San Diego. We left the east coast behind and went all the way to Sunny California intr-un anume capat al lumii, San Diego, locul unde oamenii se duc sa lose themselves in order to be found again. Rebirth. Zbor deasupra americii, vineri e ziua, 10 dimineata e ora, aeorportul Lindhberg Field isi deschide usile automate in cel mai pasnic mod posibil. Noi doua cu ale noastre doua bagaje, cu ultimele doua tigari din pachet si cu exact 10$ in buzunar si nici un plan, doar o adresa al unui hostel. Sitting on our luggages we embrace the San Diego morning. Oare daca ne zicea Ella de la inceput ca nu ne mai poate tine mai veneam pana aici? Da. Absolut. Baiatul de langa noi ne da ziua buna si ne intreaba daca fumam iarba, cause if we do than this is the place for it. Welcome to San Diego, romanian girls. I‘m a child at heart. I am.
Shortcut in the story: aeroport -> bus -> carat bagaje pe strazi -> hostel, Lucky D‘s. Lucky fuckin‘ D‘s man! Cause once in California...
It feels like this is the point in the whole story when I stop writing about it and the movie just starts rollin‘ in front of my eyes. No matter what way I write about it, it‘s not the way it all happened.
Hostelu asta l-am rezervat foarte de-ampulea. So here we are back in New York, in Harlem pe treptele hostelului de lesbiene si o gagica ne trimite pe Amsterdam Ave la Hostelling International ca poate ne ajuta nu stiu ce agentie located in hostelul asta sa ne gasim ceva job in San Diego. Aia nu ne pot ajuta asa ca profitam de faptul ca suntem intr-un hostel si ne luam niste flyere sa ne gasim macar cazare 2 zile in SD. Planul nostru e sa stam intr-un hostel cateva zile si dupa sa couchsurf from one couch to another. Sunam la un hostel, ala e completely booked asa ca ne dau un nr de telefon de la un alt hostel lucky ceva, vecin cu ei. „Hello, Lucky D‘s, San Diego, this is James speaking.“ We book it, Cri imi zice ca James asta pare nice ca are voce faina. I trust her, Cri stie ce stie.
So switching back to the day we checked in. Hot chip is the music they‘re playin. Jordan is working reception. He checked us in si sunt convinsa ca ne-o zis si noua absolut tot despre hostel unde-i the kitchen, the common room and all that shit doar ca nu imi pot aminti. I know we were tired and desperate so we ask him daca putem lucra acolo. He says maybe si ne spune sa vorbim cu Michelle. Michelle is the manager and she hires us. We move our shit to the staff room 415, le lasam colegilor noi de camera a note telling them that we‘re the new roomies and that we‘re nice people. Se pare ca suntem cam singurele persoane pe care Michelle la angajeaza on the spot. Why? We still don‘t know. We just got lucky.
Meanwhile we‘re still on the road living on coffee and cigarettes. No money, no place to stay in San Francisco, no working card. Broke we ride the highway. Born to be wiiiild.
On that first day there am vazut cel mai tare si psihedelic si ciudat si de pe alta planeta apus de soare. We were having breakfast on the stairs of the convention center on top of the city not really knowing what just happened and what‘s next. Rosii, cottage cheese, paine si chips-uri, cel mai roz-mov cer, cladiri ale viitorului, orasului viitorului in spatele nostru, oceanul in fata noastra si nori pufosi din vata de zahar. Hell yes.

colors and colors

.

simplify.relax.breathe.enjoy.simplify.colors and colors.simple sounds.buy it, use it, break it, fix it.
ii asa usor. hold on my friend, an end is a start.

The Long Branch, The House and The New People.

Am ramas candva la tanti de la Port Authority care nu vrea sa ne dea bilet pentru ca nu stim exact unde vrem sa mergem. 2 iulie 2009. And look at us now, one month later, 7 august 2009 flying to San Diego, no plan, no money, no job, no friends, no place to stay, doar doua bagaje supraponderale si 2 bilete de avion mult prea scumpe si mult prea nerambursabile. New York – Philadelphia – San Diego. Dar aici nu e vorba de San Diego, aici incerc sa imi amintesc timpul din Long Branch. Long Branch - apogeul visului vietii in the suburbs, white trash motherfuckin‘ ville, 9 oameni est-europeni intr-o casa de cacat cu cacat care iese din buda, studenti, 5 intr-o camera, dormind pe jos, pe saltele murdare luate de pe strada. Don‘t let the bed bugs bite. Din NY ajungi in Long Branch cu busu, asta daca gasesti pe cineva care sa stie unde e Long Branch, New Jersey (Jersey – the armpit of America). Noi am ajuns acolo, fara sa stim unde mergem, cine ne asteapta si daca o sa make it through that first day. Acolo nu ne asteapta nimeni, nu ne stie nimeni si nu cred ca ne vrea nimeni. Soferul busului nu stie unde e locul unde mergem noi asa ca ne lasa in gara ca sa fie un loc populat de unde putem lua taxi si sa nu ne futa nimeni. La propriu. Gara si seara si tot nu stim unde suntem si unde mergem. Asa ca luam taxi. To Sirena Ristorante please on 27 Ocean Ave. 2 iulie intr-o joi. Si acolo il cunoastem pe Kevin for the first time. Ugly motherfucker. Stiu ca i-am zis hostesei ca I would like to see mister Kevin Kopacko. Ba, Kevin, ba sugi pula! Anyway nu stie cine suntem exact, nu stie unde trebuie sa stam si unde am putea dormi si ne trimite la Stefan, asta daca il stim pe baiatu‘ ala si dupa pleaca ca el are an important restaurant to manage. Nu chiar stim cine ii Stefan, dar stim adresa la care sta. Pauza de tigara. Pier Village. Sirena. Seara. Si noi. La multi ani, Ancai. Sorry for waking you up.
Taxi. 18 Arthur Ave. Hi, is Stefan here? Tipa blonda, hot pants, mean look. Nu ne place. Nici ei nu-i place. Stefan, roman, naiv si mult prea diferit. Tindem again sa nu ne placa. Sandor si Erwin, unguri. Tipa blonda e Vika din Ucraina si mean by default si dragutu‘ ei e Vadim, un tip care daca se transforma in varcolac si ar incepe sa urle la luna ar parea cea mai normala chestie de pe lume. Oarecum. Stefan ne zice cum sta treaba, si cum ar trebui sa ii sunam ziua urmatoare pe nu stiu ce tipi care trebuie sa se ocupe de noi si sa ne dea a place to sleep, dar ca putem sa crashenim o noapte acolo ca nu se supara nimeni. We crash pentru urmatoarea luna, ptr ca oameni aia doi nu ne ajuta si ptr ca mainly sug pula. Prima noapte inghetam de frig ca cacatu‘ si a doua noapte la fel, si a treia and the next and the next pentru ca the work and travel programm sucks. Pentru ca is niste cacati. Toti. Simplu. Tot in prima seara plimbare pe boardwalk in program, cu Cri. Si cu Stefan si cu Vika si cu Sandor si Erwin. We need to get out. Terasa cu muzica. Singura. Redemption Song. Walk over. Music over. Ocean. Casa. Chainsmoking. Oai da ce mult fumati fetelor! Serios? Ai observat tu ca fumez mult? Crezi ca nu stiu and you really have to point out the fuckin‘ obvious? Crezi ca acum ma simt prost ca fumez mult si o sa fumez mai putin? Wrooong, o sa imi aprind inca o tigara. How ´bout it? Oricum, cred ca tot in seara aia le-am cunoscut pe Marta si pe Salma. Keeping it short, Salma e o nebuna (cu probabil acte in regula) si Marta e o fata naivuta si tinerica si care ii buna rau. Si oamenii astia or fost colegii nostri de camera si de viata so to say pentru o luna. O fost o luna chiar ok. (Nu am lucrat si nu am facut munti de bani ca ceilalti si la sfarsitul verii nu ne-am luat nimic, nu tu laptop si toale si ipod si tot felu‘ de chestii de care nu am nevoie de fapt. In schimb am trait mai mult si mai multe decat m-as fi asteptat.) Si dupa luna aia chiar ok o fost timpul sa plecam, sa see it and live it, si am plecat ca niste fete cam proaste si inconstiente si s-o meritat, all the fuckin‘ way.

love love love

i think little loving robots should be everywhere.
intre timp m-am intors acasa. summer's gone the dream is over. e toamna si viena. bun-venit.