Florin Muresan

Fantasme in Noapte

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 00:48:00 +0000

Orasul a murit.

Tu inca nu. Mai supravietuiesti cumva, undeva, pierdut intr-o jungla de material gri efemer, o paradigma monstruoasa in zadar, facand risipa de har. Un car se afla deasupra ta pierdut intr-o ceata lipsita de speranta ce-nvaluie zarile-n finit. Stii bine ca nu esti infinit. Omule, esti muritor, dupa cum spune si piesa populara pe care ai fi putut sa o auzi in momentul in care ai pasit afara din scara, dar nu ai auzit-o.

Un obiect lipsit de suflet cu rosu si alb se afla-n mana ta brusc, scoti alb din el si il aprinzi. Tragi in tine putin sa vezi daca e bine si te trece un fior rece pe care nu-l poti analiza. In ceata anihilanta se pierde acum si iz de fum. Din nou risipa. Din nou scrum.

Erau sunete de oameni cand ai vrut sa iesi prima oara din captivitatea pesterii in care locuiai acu ceva timp cu oamenii, compartimentati in ziduri de beton, frate ce beton ar fi fost sa fie totul doar un jargon. Tu stii ca nu e. Orasul a murit. Si sincer, era timpul.

Tu stii asta si pasesti neincetat, inaintat de un scop far' de cuget delegat in spatiu ingrat ce nu-ti ofera viata, doar masini ce urla raspicat. Masinarii. Peste tot. Le simti si le vezi. Sunt becuri peste tot in paradisul tau blue marin invaluit de ceata. Te sperii cand realizezi ca abia mai recunosti locul. Oare esti tot acolo? Oare pan' la urma ai murit si tu ca tot orasul? Tu ce esti? Esti om. Bine, altceva. Ca om e prea ambiguu. Daca s-ar calcula tipurile de oameni tot nu s-ar ajunge la o concluzie, dar oare s-ar putea gasi o formula de generare a tipurilor de oameni nascuti intr-un an bazat pe arhetipuri? Sau tot progresul tehnologic duce la o schimbare masiva a procesului natal si post-natal?

Te intrebi mai multe, in timp ce fumul incarca ceata cu o neclaritate si mai mare. Sunt sunete. Si sunt masini far-de-oameni care trec pe langa tine, dar abia ca le observi in ceata. Esti o paiata. Singur pe lume si nu e nimeni acum sa-ti mai dea renume. Ca om, te bazezi pe vizual, dar totul e in ceata. Mai ai nevoie de social ca sa te incadrezi in specie, dar esti singur in lume. Acel oras mort, plin de masinarii vii. Atunci mai esti om?

Nu nu, sa nu te hazardezi. Inca procesezi, deci existi! Dar oare esti tu sau creierul tau lipsit de tine? Se intaresc niste sfarcuri si te intaresti si tu intr-un display erotic cudat ce se petrece independent de lumea in care te misti si nu vrei sa opresti momentul, dar primesti un semnal. Ai imaginea accea in cap, dar e primita printr-o masinarie. Totul e facut printr-un fel de masinarie. Dar tu esti o masinarie? Esti intr-adevar un suflet? Corpul care se misca odata cu tine este o interfata pentru sufletul tau in Lumea Omului sau sufletul tau e doar o interfata generata de creier pentru subordonarea eficienta a tuturor functiilor de care dispui?

Vorbesti prostii probabil. Bine, nu le vorbesti cu voce tare. Ai strica linistea care predomina si ti-e destul cand mai treci pe langa un bancomat si auzi vocea deranjanta electrizata care incearca sa-ti ofere informatii si sa te atraga sa scoti bani. Nu ca ai avea ce sa faci cu ei in timpul in care te aflii, cand orasul a murit.

Te sperii. Cainii latra undeva in dreapta ta, dar nu ii vezi. Niciodata nu ii vezi, dar sunt acolo. Si stii asta. Sunt masinarii. Orasul a murit.

Povestea e ca ai iesti din casa pe la 3 dimineata si gasesti strazile goale. E intuneric, frig si totul e cuprins de ceata. Ai vrea sa simti apropierea unei alte persoane. Dar nu mai e nimeni, pentru ca toate sufletele au plecat deja spre lumea visului si nu mai exista in planul tau curent de existenta. Cand dormi mai esti prezent ca suflet? Cred ca nu. Orasul trebuie sa fi murit. Doar masinariile mai pastreaza totul la locul lui pana cand revin oamenii-nspre ziua. Tu le veghezi. Esti singurul care le vegheaza. Esti sigur ca tu esti om in acel moment? Sau esti doar o parte a masinariei?

Dictata-n culori

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 18:09:00 +0000

E-o poezie scrisa, dictata-n culori
Si prozodie trista ascunsa-n vapori.
Sunt nori de furtuna, aprigi nori de dor
Se revarsa vioi pe-ntregul ogor..
Ma ploua subtil cu stropi de placut
Brusc sunt atat de vesel, nu mai pot fi tacut
Si-ntreb in gura mare, totusi ce n-ai da oare?
N-ai da si sa mori? -
Pentru o viata cu tine, dictata-n culori.

There is a Fear

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 18:02:00 +0000

There is a fear in the darkness
A fear that makes crows scare
Passengers mutilated in likeness
For a purpose beyond the fair.

People in dissaray, glaring so bright
From another world, built out of sight
For a stallion of breaches
In the core of the sea where the Siren preaches
In stains of blood a song of the ages
Down, down, in the old rusted cages.

Hey guys ! I've moved to Cif2.net

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 10:35:00 +0000

Hello !

I guess I forgot to mention that I have moved to http://www.cif2.net for a while now.

I am also working a lot on getting that startup kick-started, but I will still use this blog to inform you of other literary venues of mine.

Cheers !

Florin Muresan

Dupa aceea nu au mai fost povesti

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 18:17:00 +0000

Pur si simplu. Fusese o perioada plina de povesti, traind intr-un univers viu colorat, cu accente ciudat intunecate uneori, dar aveau un gust placut si un parfum de neuitat.

Dar le-am uitat. Le-ai uitat. Le-a uitat. Conjugare.. si cam atat.

Erau picuri de ploaie stralucitori in fata unui Coloseum grandios, ce se izbeau de piatra veche, urmand ca apoi sa se mai arunce odata naprasnic asupra ochilor tai. Efect de oglinda sparta, cioburile careia se revarsa peste tine, intr-un spectacol luminos de magie jucausa.

Totul era jucaus. Si era frumos. Puteai scrie si puteai chiar canta despre orice. Erau povesti science fiction, povesti de amor, de omor, mancare si ogor. Erau si povesti cu pesti. Doua feluri de pesti. Dar pe urma nu au mai fost.

Este un punct de cotitura in viata. Cred ca e punctul in care pierzi cu adevarat copilaria. Dupa aceea nu mai sunt povesti. Cel putin nu povesti adevarate. Toate plictisitoare, intinate de cotidian, citadin si nesomn.

Rock-ul clasic intelege asta. Poate de aceea il ascult. Il ascult si acum. Parca fiecare nota stie ce spun si adauga si ea din povestile care au fost si nu mai sunt.

Cred ca o poveste nu poate trai cu adevarat daca traieste doar in tine. Povestile vor sa fie impartasite cu oameni vii, care sa le retina si poate... sa le duca mai departe.

Dupa aceea nu au mai fost povesti.

Visit: Dupa aceea nu au mai fost povesti, Thoughts.

Bezea cu unicorni, fragute cu ciuperci

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 18:24:00 +0000

Bezea cu unicorni, fragute cu ciuperci.

Absolut trebuie sa asculti urmatoarele sfaturi pe care le voi scrie aici.

Daca nu, zece pisicute decongelate de puf roz vor muri inflacarate, sau cel putin asa vei percepe tu evenimentul.

Sunt in autobuz, nu ma tin de bara si ma bazez doar pe faptul ca am multa energie sa ma tina. Sa nu-mi faca scurt circuit creierul. Serios.

Cum iti alegi energizantul ?

Atat. In ziua de azi ai atat de multe alegeri incat trebuie sa te gandesti si ce energizant fericit vrei sa-ti alegi. Evident, nu iti alegi Red Bull, ca d'oh, bei 3 beri sau mananci o pizza de banii aia, plus ca nu te afli in club sa faci pe cocalaru'.

Atunci treci la low cost, sau mai degraba normal cost. Depinde ca si acestea oscileaza in mod bizar. Hell ? Ba, sa mearga ei la dracu, pentru ca eu vreau mai multa energie si nu-mi ajung 250 ml. Rienergy ? Stii bine ca nu poti sa alegi sa-ti iei Rienergy la 1 Litru, la pret de 6 lei, frate, ca n-ai ce face, nu esti nebun. No bun...

Si atunci chiar "avansezi", devii mai serios si treci la un energizant mega no-name: Energy Drink 4 Energy ! :)) deci, da! La prima vedere, pentru ca pare foarte "clean" sticla, gen gri deschis, cu urme de praf si pete galbene, zici bine mah! Arata asa numa' din cauza magazinului.

Si... il deschizi. Si... privesti interiorul. Parca te uiti intr-o gura de canal.

Atunci tu, cu desteptu al'lalt de prieten al tau, ca no, tot timpu tre' sa ai un prieten d'asta inteligent cand umeaza sa faci cate o tampenie, zici "hai sa bem, ca ce poate sa aiba ?".

Dum-du-dum. Dum. Dum. Tare. Simti ca laghezi. Rau de tot. Incerci sa iei o carte de pe un raft dintr-o librarie si iei teapa. Mana merge aiurea. Bun. Apoi simti ca iti "cad ochii-n gura", vorba ceea. "Bai, stai asa ! Asta a fost energizant ? Cum viata ca acuma nu mai pot de somn! Bine ca am baut juma de litru. Mi-o fost de folos. "

Mai stai un pic prin centru, ca mai vrei sa vezi una-alta si din ce in ce mai tare o contenesti cu glumele, simti ca adormi, ai deja tripuri ca vrei sa te pui in fata lui Matei pe o banca si sa dormi.

Bine, asta esti tu,frate ! Ca pe mine m-a apucat rasul aiurea, durerea de cap si imi tot vine sa ma leg la misto de pietoni. Bai, stai ca si io-s pieton. Cred. Ce cred ? Nu cred nimic. Bine, nimic altceva decat ce-i scris pe ambalaj: "se pot observa reactii ciudate la copii si lipsa de concentrare".

Incep sa gandesc mai clar. Tu gandesti mai clar? Iti dai seama ca asta e numai ce au lasat ei publicului sa vada ca efecte secundare, ca erau atat de clare incat ar fi fost dati in judecata instant daca nu le scriau.

Deci iti dai seama ca sigur mai sunt si alte efecte ciudate, dar le-au lasat in obscuritate.

Si acum ies toate afara. Bezea, unicorni, fragute cu cascaval. Felinar, cioara, patina, fluturas.

Bun. M-am calmat. Asa. Acum stai la tine acasa si te gandesti: "bai, asta e rau".

Da. Si acum sfaturile:

1) Daca vrei sa iti distrugi eficienta pentru o zi intreaga si nu stii cum, baga juma de litru de Energy Drink 4 Energy.

2) Nu o intreba pe tipa de la magazin daca e sanatos Energy Drink 4 Energy. Va pufni in ras. Da, am testat, zic din experienta.

3) Ia-ti naibii o cafea, pentru ca oricat de rea ar fi, tot e mai buna ca un enrgizant.

4) Sfat, daca ai tupeu: combina Doi Cai Frumosi cu Energy Drink 4 Energy .

Sunt lucruri in viata de care trebuie sa te feresti. Acesta nu e unul dintre acelea. Incearca sfatul 4 si lasa un comment aici a doua zi. Daca mai esti in viata. Astept.

Visit: Bezea cu unicorni, fragute cu ciuperci, Thoughts.

Downstairs where the Hounds won't bark

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 12:04:00 +0000

There is a tide in the darkest rings of fate,
Irrational minion that blots out judgement,
Leaving only Hate.
And sheer torment.
It is sin so lean and nice,
It is cats chased by mice,
In the pits so ever dark,
Downstairs where the hounds won't bark.

Despre Porci si Oameni

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sat, 18 Dec 2010 07:05:00 +0000

Scris in colaborare cu Lucian Nertan, ajutati si de Kis Odon Istvan.

Am castigat Romanian Humor Story Contest - June 2010 pe http://www.babelstory.com

Despre Porci si Oameni

" I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals. "

Winston Churchill

Reporterul se grabi catre batranelul ce-si scutura nervos, dar in van, hainele de noroi, pentru a-i lua un interviu.
-Buna seara!
-Seara, ce seara ca-i noapte …
-Ma scuzati, cum va numiti?
-Iancu Sus
-Domnule Sus, ne puteti va rog relata cele intamplate aici?
-Uite mi-o incediat nemernicul de vecin porcii! Pai asta-i treaba in miez de noapte sa fug dupa porci!
-Uhmm... ma refer … ce v-a incediat?!
-Porcii mai porcule!
Reporterul privi brusc in spatele batranului de unde o furtuna de injuraturi si blesteme se abatuse asupra lor , apoi facuse doi pasi in spate in incercarea de-a nu fi prins in “calamitate”.
-Mai nerusinatule!! Cum dracu ti-am dat eu foc la porci mah!
-Da cum Irod o luat foc! Tu cu butoiul tau!
-Ei %$(%$) si (##)%#Q si @($*%($$%& care %#)*#)$8 %_$(%*#! Pai io ti-am dat foc la porci!
-Daca nu tu , cine!? Nevastata!?
-Nu te lua de muierea mea ca-ti smeclesc vreo doua
-Eu? Eu nu ma iau, se iau altii si o iau bine!
-Adica ce insinuezi!
-Ma scuzati, interveni reporterul presat de timp si de nevoia unei explicatii. Nu stiu ce legatura au porcii dumneavoastra , dar ma refer la dezastrul provocat de explozie.
-Da domnul meu, ma scuzati si pe mine , dar am fost in dumnezei mati acolo? Exact atata pot sa-ti zic ca si alti,am auzit o bubuitura si m-am uitat si acolo uite unde fusese inainte o benzinarie . Uite si acuma poti vedea , is flacari si pompieri si lume curioasa. Mergi matale si intreba-i pe aia!

***
Pentru a intelege cele intamplate va trebui inainte sa-l cunoasteti pe stimatul Iancu Sus. O victima timpului, caci ani s-au scurs ,iar din maistru sef a ajuns un pensionar intr-un alt regim , mai crud pentru el un om complet rupt de oportunitatile capitaliste. Iancu Sus avuse norocul de-a fi locuit inafara maretului plan de urbanizare si astfel de-a detine o casa la periferia orasului.
Si uite din nou ani s-au scurs , iar sub ochii lui casele vecinilor crescusera in vile care mai de care detinute de oameni care mai de care. Au fost si oameni care au dorit sa-i cumpere casa si s-o creasca intr-o vila, dar se tinuse tare pe pozitie. Ii placea casa acea, era ceva ce luase cu el dealungul anilor si probabil singurul loc care-l putea numi camin.
Curtea pe care o detinea nu era de neglijar, iar ca sa-si ocupe timpul cu ceva productiv si dupa “celebra “ sa vorba : “ . Sa mai pensionez si altceva inafara de pensie” a inceput a creste 3 porci si niscaiva gaini si desigur o curca pe care tare o indragea.
Ei , inafara de pensia mica, tensiunea mare , vederea slaba si reumatisme , Iancu Sus mai avea o problema in postura vecinului sau Iordache Lotru

Intr-o zi , o zi pe care domnul Sus o tine foarte bine minte si care-i provoaca mare rapciuga de fiece data cand o rememoreaza , casa vechiului sau vecin fusese demolata si terenul scos la vanzare, iar foarte curand un santier mare isi facuse aparatia ca mucegaiul pe-o lamaie stricata. Din prima zi cum vazuse utilajele de excavat inima ii se mici si nervi si ura prinsera radacini in adancul sau : casa era prea aproape de gard, chiar lipita si stia ca va fi prea inalta si-l va priva de soare pentru o parte din zi. Apoi cu timpul, cum casa prinse contur si forma , realiza chiar el , un om simplu si fara aspiratii artistice, ca va fi chicioasa si fara gust. Asa si fusese intr-un final , cand constructia fusese terminata si finisata si muncitorii isi stransera lucrurile si plecara lasandu-l pe Iordache Lotru, viitorul pe atunci si actualul sau vecin sa se mute inauntru.
Iordache Lotru, e fara nici un dubiu, un nume cu mare rezonanta in lumea interlopa locala. Adevarul este ca infara de el si “asociatii” lui , nimeni nu stia cum , ce , de unde-si avea banii. Dar toti stiu ca astfel de lucruri nu se discuta, e nepoliticos.
Desi conflicte minore existau inca de la inceput , mai ales cand Lotru exagera cu muzica , bautura , urletele, copiii neastamparati si altele , convietuirea dintre cei doi vecini isi avea locul intre limitele tolerabiltatii. Pana intr-o zi.

***

Era o zi oarecare, dar se pare ca azi oasele il dureau mai tare si Iancu isi daduse cu parerea ca durerea se datoreaza faptului ca azi va da sa ploua si cu acea prezumptie isi pornise ziua mai grabit ca si de obicei pentru a-si termina treaba din curte mai repede. Ii placea aerul de dimineata si sa stea 10 minute pe un scuan in gradina din spate si sa-si savureze cafeaua , chiar daca nu-i placea cafeaua in sine. In fiecare luna primea cafea in cantitati mari de la fiica sa ce lucra in industrie. Desigur era de cea mai mare calitate, cu menirea de-ai servi atunci cand are nevoie de o reteta, de un control medical si treburi de genul , dar lui nu-i placea sa faca astfel de cadouri, decat atunci cand era musai , considerandu-le imorale cum ii zicea el amicului sau Toader : “ Cum sa-i dau cafeaua la aia, ce imi scrie reteta mai frumos? Atata-i trebuie sa o scrie urat ca o sa o rescrie ca doar am picioare sa merg inapoi”. Mai bine tinea cafeaua si o bea . Asa si facuse in acea zi , cand auzi urlete de la balconul vecinului sau care era indreptat spre curtea sa.
-'Tui porcii tai! Bah vecine ! Bah ma auzi sau ai surzit!
-Ce-i Lotrule, ce ai patit.
-Cum ce-am patit! Porcii ! Porcii dracului care-i ti la mine sub balcon ! Iara m-o trezit grohaitul si duhoarea lor.
-La tine sub balcon? La mine-n curte-i tin, eu te-am sfatuit sa faci balconul la altul in curte? Daca aveam buda acolo?
-Firai tu sa fi, imi fac balconul cum vreau!Si buda nu pute ca procii astia! Ia-ti tu porci de aci pana nu chem comisia!
-Ce chemi?
-Comisia sa-ti dea amenda ca ti porcii, cine dracu tine porci! Violati-ar comisia porcii!
-Cheam-o . Porcii stau unde stau . Si daca te atingi de ei te trazneste Irod!
-Nu ma fa ca nu glumesc! Bosorog nemernic ce esti! Ca mi-o ajuns de gura ta si mintea cat o linte! Ba ca nu-ti place muzica , ba te deranjeza nu stiu ce ! Ti-o intarziat sfarsitul si tu iti faci de cap, firai tu sa fi!
-Tare prost esti vecine , stii tu?
-Ooo atat ti-o fost ! Acuma chem comisia!
-Cheam-o poate o sa dea edict ca esti prea prost sa-mi fi vecin. Oh ce bine-ar fi.

Lotru nu glumise si chema politia.
Intamplarea face ca si Sus sa dea un telefon important pe aceasta tema , tocmai fiului sau. Marian Sus era singurul sau fiu, si cel mai mic dintre cei doi copii ai sai. Candva avuse si o nevasta, dar care o pierduse intr-un accident. Nu, nu intr-un accident tragic obisnuit, ci intr-unul al sortii, ea fugind cu un strain ce tocmai el ii facuse cunostiinta. Din pacate asta fusese demult si reprezinta o alta poveste. Pe cei doi copii ai sai ii crescuse singur si multa lume ar zice ca o facuse cu success : fica sa fiind manager , iar fiul sau comisar.
Asadar, Iancu ramase cu porcii si Lotru cu fustrarea de-a trai cu o troaca de porci sub geam.

***

Inregistrare de Blog:

Si ce sa mai zic? Cred ca incep sa ii inteleg pe roaceri. Pe bune, incerc sa-mi dau seama care e toata treaba aia cu non conformismul lor si parca nu-mi mai par asa de mizerabili.
Asta asa, ca mi-am dat seama ca si eu sunt un non-conformist in felul meu.
Cand eram copil, toti ceilalti baieti doreau sa devina politai. Toata ziua, ca sa prinda hoti, sa rezolve cazuri si asa mai departe. Eu nu voiam sa fiu ca ei.
Visul meu era sa ajung la Polul Sud. Asta imi doream cel mai tare, sa ma duc sa stau in tricou la Polul Sud si sa dansez cu o pinguina.
Dar nu s-a intamplat. Eu am devenit politai. Da, mare comisar, cu bani si tot tacamu'. Si mama dracului s-o duca inca de viata neghioaba, ca unul dintre aceea care voiau sa fie politisti pleaca acum in scurt timp, spre Polul Sud.
Si-a vandut calculatorul, imprimanta, bicicleta, trotineta, dacia lui fiu'so, a luat imprumut de 20.000 de Euro de la banca, s-a antrenat deja in spate la o dubita de-aia de transportat carne. E in congelator acolo. Deja stie sa rabde frigul. Uite, Danut se realizeaza, totusi. Merge pana acolo si o sa stea in tricou la Polul Sud. Cati romani, de fapt cati oameni din lumea asta au mai facut asa ceva? Ceva despre care o sa se vorbeasca peste tot. Nimeni nu l-a crezut. A facut si un super pariu, daca o sa chiar stea in trciou la Polul Sud, primeste 3000 de Euro de la fiecare din cei 6 sceptici care au pus ramasag. Scoate investitia si mai bine.
Ce sa mai zici? Mi-a furat ideea! Si acum se si distreaza si face ceva maret, ceva pentru care va fi cunoscut in toata lumea. Omul din Caracal, care a mers numai in tricou la Polul Sud. Fain.
De cand am nevasta nu mai pot fi visator. O sa fiu un mare nimeni intr-o insula de prosti, intr-un ocean ce inconjoara insula. Dar sotia asa vrea. Si tatal meu, maretul om far' de compromisuri, Iancu Sus e mandru.
Nu zic mai, am masina de pica plmba dentistului, am casa mare ca ma duc si tot mai descopar cate o camera de care nu stiam, dar in final? Cand ceasul bate ora 12? Vrea sa fac si eu ceva maret, atata tot.
Si iaca, am mai postat si eu pe blog si habar n-am cati o sa chiar cititi. Nu cred ca citeste nimeni astea oricum. Danut se realizeaza si apare in revistele Dracula si blogul meu nu-l citeste nici Ilie.
V-am pupat, pa!

***

"Multe fire se tes, fiecare cate o viata de om si fiecare om un betivan in felul sau". Aceasta era fraza favorita a lui Adrian, om cu doua facultati, nereusind vreuna sa-i implineasca si facultatile mintale. Asa ca el saracul lasa totul balta si incepu sa schimbe slujbe, una dupa alta si una dupa alta il schimbara si acestea pe el, ajungand in ziua prezenta un betivan ordinar, in sensul propriu al cuvantului.

- Tu femeilor, deci luati aminte la ce va spui, io! Ca o data va spui si va spui bine, nu de doua ori! zise Adrian cu ochii tinta la sticla de Saniuta pe care tocmai o golea.
- Taci, mai Adriene, ca numa' ce te-or da afara aiestia, ma! spuse catre el caserita cea in varsta.
- Tu, femeilor! Io cand vreau sa spun, urlu! ... la baiatu.. nu se zice cos-ntrac-dictii!
Adrian se ridica de pe bordura din parcare, cu sticla goala intr-o mana si cu cealalta gesticuland de zori, ca se parea ca nu-i vor ajunge 10 metri patrati sa se desfasoare.
- Asa, care dupa cum ziceam io, io va spui odata ca daca astia mai vin la mine cu figurine, apai FAC CA GABOR! > P O C ! < sticla de Saniuta de pamant ! cioburi cioburele, toata. Biata femeie tresari. - Voi, continua el calm, niciodata, toate trei nu ati mai comentat aicelea la baiatu... asa ca si acum o sa stati pana va spui ce zic. Stiti ce o facut Gabor? Femeia saraca dadu din cap nestiutoare si se gandi ca de ce i se tot adreseaza la plural. - S-o lasat. spuse sec Adrian si isi ridica degetul din mijloc pana isi atinse nasul cu el si s-il scuipa. 'Ta-l pestii, inca de Gabor! No, haidam tu puicutelor sa merem ca azi prind toti hotii din lume! - Vai, mai Adrian, mai bine du-te acasa si hai maine cand te simti mai bine. - Io... facu Adrian si urma o pauza de vre-un minut, in care barbatul abia isi stabili centrul de greutate.. Io te-am iubit pe tine, Mariuco! Dar azi, tare mai esti proasta! Io azi, prind toti porcii astia parliti care jmanglesc. Toti is porci parliti! *** "Dom'le, oare vulcanul ala care a facut tam-tam la Te-Veu si i-a blocat pe aia cu zborurile lor, o erupt brusc?" gandi Adrian privind incaperea cu biroul "sefiei", cum spunea el, ca se tot rostogoleste printre luminite ciudate. "La mama dracului ! Ca gatul meu si cu vulcanu' ahala is inrudite chiar amu'. Stai baiatule, inca putin, sa termini cu porcii astia parliti. Toti! Is porci parliti..." - Domnule Adrian, va puteti uita la mine, va rog? - Incerc sefu', imi dau silinta! >hac !< - Este a doua oara cand se intampla, saptamana asta. Adrian, dar erai om corect pana acuma si iti vedeai de treaba macar. Nu stiu ce sa mai zic, dar asa ceva e inadmisibil. Pur si simplu, inadmisibil! - Isa-nid-mib-bil, sefu' ! Asa e, si imi cer scuze cu su- >hac!< -punere. - Adi, tu stii ca nu-i prima oara cand am tot tras sfori si am tot incercat sa fac sa nu fi dat afara. Barbatul de la masa din dreapta isi dadu ochii peste cap si isi facu de lucru cu o foaie pe care o tot misca in fata si in spate si parea iritat, mai ales de mirosul emanat de paznicul beat crita. Si mai si sughita, nemernicul! - Eu, am fost numai decat un mare >hac!< .. corect, care sa nu mai spun, ca eu spun ce zic atunci cand >hac!<, dar mereu ma sup-sun cu sapunere, sefu'! - Am incercat, mult si bine, dar ai o problema mare cu alcoolul si ai avut-o de ceva vreme. Te-am rugat de-atatea ori sa te controlezi si tu nimic! - M-am cor-trolat cu supunere, nu cu figurine si am zis ca am prins multi hoti >hac!< si sefu.. si azi ii prind pe toti, da ma jur eu pe barbatia mea! >hac!< pe barba mea! >Ptui!< scuipa Adrian, parca pentru a intari spusele sale... scuipa chiar pe pantoful barbatului din dreapta si apoi ridica aratatorul in sus si il privi fix pe acel barbat... cel putin asta incerca. - Astazi ii prind! Barbatul respectiv rupse foaia in bucatele mici, cu gesturi frenetice, bombani cate ceva si iesi furios pe usa. >hac!< - Adi, Adi, asta e! Acuma ai facut-o lata. Daca nu te dau nici acuma afara, o sa am eu probleme, omule! - Sefu', io am spus ca eu nu-s dat afara. Vrei sa ma dai afara, sefule? Sa ma dai afara? Ce maica lu' Traznitu' din Hau ii si as- >hac!< -ta. Pai sa fie al drac - Bleearhhhaahrr - Micul vulcan din gura lui Adrian erupse intr-un final si se gandi in treacat ca norul de fum fusese pesemne mai subtire decat ce scapa el pe camasa Versace a sefului sau. *** "Si asa e in viata, n-ai ce-i mai face, ce mama masii ?" Cugeta Adrian, cuprins de mahmureala, dimineata la ora 9, sezand numai in pantaloni scurti pe scari, expunandu-si burta zdravana trecatorilor de pe alee. "Dar aici la scara asta, macar eu sa fiu respectat, ca eu nu-s oricine.. eu sunt Eu !" >P-tui!<, o flegma verzuie-i zbura din gura, facand sa i se para gatul si mai uscat decat pana atunci. "Porci parliti, auzi eu sa fiu dat afara ! Ha, ce-am mai ras." Batranica de la 4, mare povestitoare de felul ei si curioasa al dracu', veni langa el si-si puse mana in sold, privindu-l cu o oarecare mila si interes prefacut. "Ce drac' se uita si proasta asta? Ia sa mai dau eu o dusca, ca doar asa trece mahmureala, nu cu apa rece." >Glac!< gustul primitor de "Doi Cai Frumosi", bautura spirtoasa cu aroma de vodca, in valoare totala de 5 lei, ii napadi gatlejul, facandu-l sa se strambe, dupa care o privi multumit pe baba, asteptand sa zica oaresice, dasteapta lumii. - Mai, Adriene, da' nu vi greu, maica? Te-or dat asa afara! Da cum mai esti cu banii? - Pfffu'! Ha! I-auzi, banii! Banii! Banii nu-s o problema! Banu' vine d'aici, vine d'acolo, vine de dincolo! Pfa, lasa tu banii, ca banii nu-s o problema! - Vai, maica Soarelui! Apai asa sa fie Adrian, dar am auzit ca Vasi, ala micu' face bani din pescuit pe Lotru. - De, pai doara d'aia l-am invatat io sa-si vare vermele-n carlig, 'tui porcii lui de copil, ca-ntr-o zi a face cat mine! Oricum, asa sa stii 'mneata, tanti Rodica: Banii nu-s o problema! > PTUI! < si scuipa una buna si rasunatoare, din toti rarunchii, de biata muiere isi facu cruce si pleca de-acolo.
"Auzi ma, baba! 'ftai, trazni-o-ar boala! 'Un se baga ea. La pescuit pe Lotru, i-auzi! Lotru, 'hatui maica lui." Si atunci ii veni o idee.

***

Inregistrare de Blog:

Ce sa mai intelegi din lumea asta? Ce naiba sa intelegi la o femeie? Is curios, is foarte curios cum functioneaza o femeie! Are si ea, arzo flacarile, un senzor micut pe undeva care-i zice: Hmm.. ai grija, am impresia ca acuma e momentul sa fii atenta la sotul tau, sa vezi ce face si apoi sa va certati de numa'. Grija, fato! Se pune de-o cearta! Uraaa !

Femeile nu dau doi bani pe noi in mod normal, treaba noastra ce se intampla, dar atunci cand nu trebuie, atunci brusc vor sa ne descoase, sa vada tot! Si ce tampenie! Nu citeste nici dracu' blogul meu. Pe sotia mea stiu sigur ca n-o intereseaza sa vada toate chestiile pe care le am de zis. Dar nu, dupa ce am pus postarea anterioara, parca a stiut ca era ceva rau de ea si s-a uitat! Pentru prima oara, s-a uitat, si-a adus aminte, Ilie stie de unde, ca am un blog si asta numa' din cauza ca am scris ceva rau despre ea si senzorul acela i-a si dat instiintarea.

Nu vrea sa inteleaga ca nu dau vina pe ea pentru tot ce mi se intampla sau pentru tot ce nu pot face. O vazut chestia asta undeva la televizor, prin ceva filme de alea cu povesti de doi bani, cu actori super cunsocuti, care sunt la moda acum, si gata! Ea deja stie tot! Dau vina pe ea pentru tot ce n-am facut in viata! Ce usor e sa ne inteleaga femeile! Sunt atat de inteligente! Ai de capu' meu ca nu stiu nimic, dar prefera sa pretinda ca stiu. Ele-s foarte complexe, ele ne citesc un-doi.
Ia sa mai mearga toate undeva, ca m-am saturat. Am lasat-o singura pe nevasta in toata casa aia pe care o iubeste si eu mai bine ma duc sa stau cu porcii lui taicamio.

Si parca vad ca o sa citeasca si inregistrarea aceasta, traznil-ar senzor! Ajungem sa ne certam pe blog. Mai rau decat copiii aia care se despart prin SMS-uri.

Hai ca v-am salutat cu si despre respect! Pa!

***

- Taci tu nevasta ! Ca rezolv eu!
Lotru se avanta catre balcon. Cand deschise usa si facuse primul pas tensiunea ii se marii si la fel si cantitate de sange din cap. Nervos deschise gura sa-l injure pe Iancu care statea pe scaunul lui , in curtea lui citindu-si ziarul, dar se opri. Ceva il facuse a se opreasca, parca stia futilitatea urmatoarelor sale replici . Se intoarse nervos in casa , trandind usa dupa el.
- Mno mai Iordache, ai rezolvat , isi muta dracului ala cocina de acolo? Ca zau ca nu mai pot respira, am si astm si numai stiu ce o zis medicul.
- Taci tu! Taci... Nu-si muta ala porcii nici de s-ar preschimba in draci. #*@&# ?{%#@ masi.
Se aseza in fotoliu si incepu sa coaca un plan. Ajunse departe cu imaginatia, de la a-i calca cu tirul, pana la a truna beton peste porci, ba chiar la a-si cumpara gaz otravit sa gazeze porci, si nu s-ar supara daca si vecinul sau ar fi prins in ceata ucigasa. Oricum, cazuse cumva de acord ca porcii trebuie sa moara. Subtil... Daca nu ar fi fost scandal cu progenitura lui Iancu. Il dispretuia chiar mai mult ca si pe vecinul sau, de la felul cum vorbeste pana la cum se imbraca , si desigur din cauza faptului ca era militian. Cum sa stai …
Fusese intrerupt din contemplare brusc cand nevasta deschise geamul si porcii incepura sa grohaie. Se ridica in furie si dupa ce ajunse la geam il injura bine pe vecinul sau. Apoi brusc isi aduse aminte ca avea in beci, de la nasul sau , mare “petrolist” un butoi de benzina cam de 35 de litri.
- Undei Mirciulica ?!
- Nu stiu , ca mai nou numa acasa nu-i.
- Atunci hai tu!
- Unde?
- In beci.
- Mah Iordache … da ce , vrei tu in beci?
- Taci tu si hai!
Un doi repera butoiul si cu ajutorul nevastei care se planse pe tot parcursul caratului , reusira sa-l mute pana pe balcon , acolo unde mandru il propti pe o masa aproape cat balustrada de mare.
- Bah Iancule! Bah porcule! Trazniti-ar neamu', ca de nu acuma asta am sa fac eu!
- Ce-i vecine, iar o pierdut echipa ta de suflet la fotbal?
- Bah Iancule, uite aci! Priveste bine!
- Te-ai gandit in sfarsit sa-ti scoti moarea din casa ca incepea sa miroase? Greu te prinzi de-ale vietii.
- Bah, daca nu-ti inchizi spurcaciunea aia de gura arunc butoiul asta pe porcii tai. Si ghici ce-i cu el . Ii benzina. Uite amu il arunc!
Si inclina butoiul cat pe-aci sa-l verse , probabil asta ar fi facut daca nu l-ar fi oprit nevasta sa speriata sau ceva mult mai probabil era ca oricum nu conta sfatul ei .

- Ce faci Iordache! Vrei sa ne dai foc la casa? Nu-ti dai seama ca daca arde cotetul ardem si noi?
Si Lotru se oprii . Nu avea niciodata de gand sa ii dea foc benzinei ce avea sa o toarne si nici sa asculte de sfatul nevestei lui . Ar fi turnat butoiul daca o strafulgerare nu-l opri din actiunea lui.
- Bah vecine! continua Lotru ceva mai calm . Acuma am fost aproape, da sa sti ca-ti dau foc la porci! Muta-i dracului in alalat colt ar curtii si lasa-ma sa stau linistit

Iancu abia reusi sa nu se lase dus de valul de furie ce-l provoca posibilitatea ca vecinul sau sa faca ceea ce a zis. Desi tremura tot , reusi sa-si pastreze un calm in voce , totusi nu avea de gand sa cedeze. Desigur, putea muta cotetul in celalat colt al curtii. Dar de ce sa o faca ? Ar insemna sa piarda din avantajul pe care-l avea, sa arate ca poate fi infrant si sa-i dea din nou spor manifestarilor si dorintelor vecinului sau care se contraziceau fundamental cu ale lui. Si costa timp si bani.
- Auzi vecine. Da-le tu foc porcilor si jur ca din accident va arde si casa ta! Doar is aproape!
- Ma ameninti? Cum iti permiti sa ma ameninti! Vrei porci flambati!?
- Nu vecine, eu doar am zis un adevar.
- Nu ma lua tu cu filozofii d'astea! Muta-ti in mama lor porcii si am terminat cu cearta cu tot! Lenes ordinar! Uitate, nici becu' de la cotet ce tot face scantei n-ai fost in stare sa-l repari!
- Ce treaba ai dumneata cu becul acela? O sa-l schimb cand am timp
- Incredibil bah vecine, da schimba-l ca cine stie ce se aprinde de la el si ardem toti de vii!
- Uite, il schimb cand iei butoiul acela si il muti de acolo.
- Stii ce? Oricum o sa-l schimbi tu cat de curand ca ori iti dau foc la nenorocitul tau de cotet ori dispare! Mars!
Si zicand astea intra nervors in casa trantind usa dupa el , neasteptand ca vecinul sau sa aiba vreo replica. Se aseza in fotoliu si se gandi. Nu avea nici un rost sa tina butoiul acela acolo , stia ca nu poate arunca benzina pe cotet si implicit pe porci, cel putin nu acum. Defapt daca se gandea mai bine, de ce ar face asta?
- Tu nevasta! Hai sa ducem butoiu' jos. Defapt stii ce, il mai las acolo vreo doua trei zile, da de s-o speria si-o muta troaca de acolo!

***

Una dupa alta, totul deveni clar in mintea cuprinsa de mahmureala a lui Adrian si vazu luminita... luminita lampii de birou, cu becul aprins in care isi propti el ochii, atunci cand capul i se prabusi pe masa. "Trazni-o-ar lumina!" isi zise omul, dupa care stinse becul. Nu mai avea nici o sticla de bautura acasa, dar nici nu-i mai trebuia. Stia clar ce are de facut si voia sa o faca gandind clar.
Sa faca ca Gabor! Ha! Pai asa a si facut, doar s-a lasat de lucru... si apoi copilul sau la pescuit pe Lotru... hmmm... Ii daduse de gandit mult, dar pan' la urma deslusi totul, el singur. Copilul facea bani pescuind pe Lotru, dar el urma sa faca bani pescuindu-l pe Lotru.
- Gunoiul cela' de Lotru, Iordan, sau cum porci epilati il mai chema si pa cela!
Acu ceva timp, Iordache Lotru, Gabor si el aveau o afacere, nu tocmai in limitele legii, dar trebuiau sa vina multi bani frumosi pentru fiecare. Insa el si Gabor erau niste pestisori mici pe langa vestitul Lotru si pana la urma ramasese cel din urma cu toti banii. Detalii prea multe nu se cunosc, cum nu se cunosc prea multe in general cand vine vorba de vreo afacere ce-l implica pe Lotru.
Asa ca, dupa calculele lui Adrian si dupa bunul simt uman "ce mama dracului!?", dupa cum ar fi zis el, vestitul om ii era dator. Si nu numai lui, ca si lui Gabor.
Isi mai aduse el aminte si ca Lotru era tare increzut si spre deosebire de altii, tinea sume considerabile acasa la el, fara sa-i treaca prin cap ca ar reusi vreodata cineva sa il fure. "Da, el nu stie pe baiatu'!" surase Adrian, dupa care forma un numar si astepta ingandurat raspunsul.
- Szio!
- Lasa tu alea mah, blanosule! urla Adrian in receptor
- Ce-i asta? Cine are glume proasta la orele asta?
- Is io mah, copil din flori, Adrian!
- O, cum nu mi-am dat seama? Ai mintea scurta ca p*$# mea!
Dupa ce se finaliza ritualul de injuraturi de bine te-am gasit si ce dor mi-a fost de tine, cei doi hotarara ca asa vor da lovitura si-si vor aranja vietile. De tot!
Asa ca, nu apuca bine sa se plece soarele pe cer a 3-a zi, ca ei deja erau prin preajma casei lui Lotru.
La momentul oportun, intrara inauntru in casa.

Se scursera minute bune , chiar ore , de cand cei doi cotrobaiau prin vila lui Iordache Lotru, care in tot acest timp dormea linistit cu nevasta lui intr-una din camera. Ceea ce facuse ca acest jaf sa fie cat de cat reusit era faptul ca Adrian stia ca Lotru nu avea obiceiul sa-si activeze alarma in timp ce dormea. Si desigur cele cateva mii de euro gasite intr-un sertar . Gabor considera ca era de ajuns , dar Adrian insista asupra faptului ca pagubitul nu s-ar incurca el doar la cateva mii de euro.
-Ia mah , ce miroase a benzina in camera asta. Da' zici ca-i garaj auto.
-Dapai ce vrei, crezi ca asta nu spala aur daca-i negru?
-Ce legatura are?
-Taci acolo, nu mai sopti ca se trezeste asta.
Cei doi isi reluara activitatea de cotrobaiala cand , cu un glas mai putin soptit ii spuse :
-Mah no fi bine...
-Imbecilule, taci acolo.
-Mah is gaborii aci.
-Amu serios , acuma iti ati arde de glume? Pfai ce dilit esti
-Nu mah tocmai,ia acuma o parcat o masina de politie .
-Ce?!
-Tocmai o parcat o masina de politie in fata casei lui Lotru, ia amu so dat ala jos. Fugi mah.
Era o noapte senina cu o luna rotunda ce-ti era mai mare romantismul sa o privesti. Totul era calm pana cand masina de politie opri in fata casei lui Lotru. Cei doi ramasera inmarmuriti si gemuiti intr-un colt al camerei. Calmul se mentiuse pret de cateva minute, timp in care statusera acolo fara a scoate nici un cuvant , asta pana auzira o porta ce se trozni ,urmata de o ploaie de injuraturi apoi o usa care se izbi cu putere. Atunci cei doi realizara ca e acum ori niciodata si deschisera cu putere usa de la balcon, reperara cotetul de dedesupt , sarira pe el crapandu-i acoperisul si doborand in viteza butoiul de benzina care se prelinse pe tot cotetul si incet ,dar sigur prin crapaturi pe porcii de dedesupt care devenira agitati.
-)*#'tui mama lui de cretin! Cum sa ti un butoi de benzina pe balcon!
-Taci dracului si hai ca mai avem pana la masina si gaborii sigur is dupa noi!
-Te'njur io mai tarziu, fi sigur de asta!
***

Nimic nu-i iesea in aceea zi lui Marian Sus. Nici cand dupa o cearta , pe care dupa ce se sfarsise nici el nu reusi sa-i gaseasca intelesul , plecase nervos sa bea ca sa se calmeze si se imbata ca porcul fara sa vrea, nici cand incerca sa conduca masina de politie catre casa si ajunse din gresala pe strada pe care a copilarit , nici cand parca la casa de langa si nici cand intra in casa tatalui sau si avuse o cearta din nou fara nici un rost cu acesta .
Iar acum zacea intins pe patul sau din copilarie cu tatal sau la tampla lui , ingrijorat. Privi cum tatal sau se ridica brusc si … si apoi inchise ochii. In acel moment, ei bine nu chiar in acel moment, dar pe atunci , ceva se intampla. Ceva ce se intamplã de vreo trei zile incoace, ritmat si la o frecventa destul de constanta. Un mic arc electric lumina aerul si obiectele din jur, dar nu arcul in sine era important , ci faptul ca acel arc creea o reactie in lat ce aprinse benzina. Cu ea si cotetul si porcii , care turbati iesisera prin cele doua portite lasate deschise si o luasera la vale. Iancu reactiona promt si fugi dupa ei in slapi, dar dupa cativa metri buni alunca si cazuse cu fata in noroi.

Nimic nu le iesea in aceea zi lui Adrian si lui Gabor. Nici cand se hotarara sa intre la Lotru in casa ca sa gaseasca doar trei mii de euro, nici cand masina lui Marian ii facuse sa se panicheze si in graba lor sa le dea foc la porci si sa lase portile deschise si nici cand incercara sa porneasca masina si aflara ca rezervorul de benzina era aproape gol.
Iar acum zaceau amandoi in masina in benzinaria de la coltul strazii de unde tocmai comisera jaful . Erau usurati, politia nu se luase dupa ei si benzinaria fusese aproape. Tot ceea ce mai trebuiau sa faca acum era sa se poarte ca si doi cetateni obisnuiti si sa porneasca catre casa. Cand deodata privirile lor se indreptara catre o ceata de porcii in flacari ce fugea inspre ei. Nu erau singurii, fapt pentru care o masina de pe strada principala frana brusc si derapa in benzinarie si … si apoi nici nu apucasera sa inchida ochii.
In acel moment, ei bine chiar in acel moment ceva se intampla. Iancu Sus tocmai se ridica si vazuse o flama imensa si o bubuitura il asurzi.
Pentru o clipa panica ii se instaura la Iancu in suflet. Daca porcii lui erau morti ? Defapt realiza ca intrebarea mai apasatoare era daca porcii lui cauzasera explozia. Totusi reusi sa-si regaseasca calmul. Nu avea nici o vina , adica daca scanteia se produse pentru prima data. Si in plus era prea repede se aprinsera totul. Si mai era si vecinul sau, “trazneasca-l Irod”. Poate el varsase butoiul de benzina nervos din cinestie ce motiv pe porcii sai, fara sa stie ca va lua foc. Era doar prost, sigur nu avea cum sa realizeze. Si daca da, oricum toti stiau ca exista certuri dintre cei doi. Si poate totusi nu din cauza porcilor se produse deflagratia.

Urechile ii tiuiau amarnic , dar in mintea sa totul era clar ca si cristalul. Vecinul sau era de vina , iar daca nu el atunci soarta. Respira calm in timp ce se scotoci in urechi si zambi ironic, apoi ofta. Stia ca va urma o perioda plictisitoare cu reporteri , cu acte de rezolvat , cu o ancheta si altele. Totusi , poate ar fi trebuit sa asculte de Lotru si sa repare becul acela. Da, poate ar fi fost mai bine . Se uita la luna si daduse din cap, stiind ca dupa ce va trece aceea perioada totul va fi bine. Infara de porcii lui si cand realiza asta se enerva brusc.

Apoi incepuse a-si scutura nervos, dar in van, hainele de noroi.

Mecanica Inimii

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sun, 31 Oct 2010 17:06:00 +0000

Recomand cu mare caldura cartea si albumul de la Dionysos cu acelasi nume.

"Tais toi mon coeur" - Dionysos

Eminem - Beautiful (nu-i hip hop, e artaaa ! )

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 07:32:00 +0000

Imi dau seama ca e a doua piesa de pe blogul acesta pe care o pun de la Eminem si ca in general nu prea postez piese, dar asta e absolut superba ca versuri, idee si sunet, deci trebuie ascultata !

Goodbye Romania 2020

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 11:17:00 +0000

Ania Rom, born 1881, Earth, Milkyway, left us on the 5th of August, 2020. On that sad day of departure, Gary Hun did cry. They were close.

Ania was born as royalty, to a loving father from the west. He was a true king, and a man of greatness. His grandson was even greater and his main problems came from the fact that he was constantly great. Some still argue he was a great example of Priaspism.

His Priapism caused her many problems and during his reign, she always felt unstable.

After 1942 her ex-girlfriend Many Ger got her bitch-slapping revenge. Then Ssia Ru... then many others.

Those children that remained with her stole everything from her and made her go bankrupt.

Her final statement was brief and it summed up all her life: "I can't stand because of the gayness !". At her death, an owl did laugh and all the drunk from their graves threw a slumber party and we danced.

Go and Piss, beloved Rom Ania :* May the winds of tragy-comedy shine a light upon your broken wings !

Betia

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 13:53:00 +0000

Aiuresc intr-o aiureala continua, ce se scurge prin zorii zilei si mici miezi din noapte si-mi doresc sa stiu mai multe.

Mai multe despre ce? Nu pot realiza acest lucru, la fel cum nu pot intelege ce ar putea presupune o astfel de cunoastere.

Te-ai gandit vreodata ca te afli intr-o betie dintr-o betie generata de dorinta de a scapa pentru un moment de toate necazurile si toate prostiile din acea betie nenorocita? Hmmm... cata betie ! Iar momentul.. cat dureaza un moment ? In functie de ce parametru bizar poti calcula un moment ?

Ma intreb uneori daca nu cumva toata prostia noastra e data de faptul ca nu putem percepe cu adevarat si cu desavarsire marimile.

Un moment poate fi o viata. Un moment poate fi o palma data persoanei iubite, poate fi momentul in care sapa din mana ta a strapuns capul nestiutor al vreunui taran ce ti-a gresit, un moment poate fi una din maturizarile tale.

Te-ai gandit vreodata cum ar fi sa aflii ce se afla dincolo de moarte? Oare ai innebuni, oare ai putea sa traiesti cu acel pachetel de cunostiinte? Te-ar innebuni, ai mai putea face ceva, ai putea sa scapi? Pentru cat? Pentru un moment ?

***

Arsita apriga si noaptea, ce tampenie! Iti simti mainile uscate, gatul la fel, dar inima pompeaza nebuna in pieptul tau. Simti ca vei izbucni in flacari, ca intr-o vraja aruncata de o deocheata din aceea cu cartile ei prafuite si cu Diavol in suflet.

Ce fel de creatura e si aceea? Merita sa fie tratata ca o femeie normala? Ca o femeie care isi vede de casa, de barbat si de copii si-ti spala camasa si merge la Biserica si isi spala pacatele.

Nu merita, nu.. nu merita, iti repeti compulsiv in cap, iti scoti barbatia si umezesti putin buruienile uscate de la coltul cetatii.

Cum sa merite ? E o lucratura a dracului, nu e om! Si atunci astfel sa fie tratata. Are sanii aceea cu care vrea sa te ispiteasca, lasati jumate in afara si rasul acela care se vrea feciorelnic, dar stii tu mai bine.. lucratura diavolului. Ca doar asa a spus Sir Thom, iar Sir Thom e un adevarat om, cu spaima lui Dumnezeu si a Spiritului si a Maicii Sfinte si daca el asa a spus, atunci asa e.

Cand incerci sa-ti pui la loc ce trebuie pentru a fi decent, simti o furnicatura, simti cum se umfla parca putin cand o atingi si din nou imaginea cu pieptul ala de demon ce-ti face creierii sa rataceasca bezmetici. Si simti dorinta! Un pacat... dar e pacat ?

Ea e un drac.. acest lucru nu poate fi pacat, ca doar nu e femeie. Lucratura naibii. Daca asa vrea sa fie, atunci sa vada, sa simta ce simte o femeie cand pateste o uneltire de asta.

John si Michael isi freaca mainile una de alta, parca incercand sa se spele de fapta pe care urmeaza sa o savarseasca. Geogre sta intr-un colt si se mangaie, ca cel mai josnic om. Parca nu mai poate astepta.

"Ce sa mai astepte?!" Iti strigi in minte. O vezi venind pe langa zidurile cetatii din celalata parte, cu pasi marunti, dupa cum are obiceiul. O stii de cand era mica si de cand a inceput sa se dezvolte si tot timpul ai simtit ceva ciudat in apropierea ei. Era pacatul! Pacatul din ea!

Iti pierzi cumpatul si alergi sa prinzi dracovenia aceea. SI o prinzi de par si nu mai astepti.. o mana o infigi intr-un loc uscat si destul de ingust pentru ce spurcaciune e si urla! Isi cheama stapanul.. sau ceva de genul.. nu mai asculti. Iti place in mod repulsiv cum ai prins-o si cum incepe sa se zvarcoleasca neputincioasa si sub mana pacatului si bagi mana tot mai adanc si simti cum totul se umezeste.. devine placut si ceilalti vin si ei...

O strang de piept cu bestialitate, ii sfarteca rochia. Unul dintre voi o arunca la pamant si cade neputincioasa aratania, acompaniata de urlete sfasietoare. Iti scoti afara madularul umflat, in arsita aceea si simti cum curge lichidul cald si ii izbeste femeii fata si fruntea, peste o expresie ingrozita si resemnata.

Simti sub mana stanga parul matasos al fetitei tale si >tresari!<

- Ce e, taticule? te intreaba micuta, care abia reusise sa adoarma sub mangaierea ta blanda.

Esti nedumerit. Cum ai ajuns de acolo aici? Ce bazaconie mai fusese si aceasta? Nu puteai fi tu vreunul din oamenii aceea barbari si sa faci asemenea.. -

Fetita poarta doar un maieut si o pereche dragalasa de chilotei subtiri.

Nu-i mai poti atinge capsorul fetitei si te indepartezi de patul ei, scarbit pana in maduva oaselor de tot ce se petrece cu tine.

"Ce e cu amintirea asta? Poate fi a mea? De unde a aparut? Si chiar acum cand mangai capul inocent al fetitei mele?" gandesti

Auzi vag, de undeva din departare cum striga dupa tine, nedumerita si parca simti ca incepe sa planga.

Cobori rapid scarile, una dintre servitoare iti adreseaza un salut respectuos si o intrebare. Tu te opresti doar pentru a-i observa sanii si ti se pare ca exista o similaritate zdrobitoare intre ea si femeia din visul treziu.

Sa fi fost un vis?

Nu mai poti sta in casa, ai nevoie de niste timp petrecut in singuratate, dai buzna afara in arsita innabusitoare. Inima iti pulseaza innebunita si parca cineva ti-a infipt un cui in spatele capului si il suceste. Ai impresia ca si capul a inceput sa iti pulseze periculos.

"Arsita, ca in chestia aia blestemata! Am fost oare hipnotizat si mi s-a introdus acea memorie in creier? Am mai auzit povesti din acestea dubioase. SI nu se poate sa fi fost eu atat de incuiat! Sa fii crezut eu vreodata toate prostiile acelea despre draci, si naiba mai stie ce! Doar sunt un om in toata firea. Nu ma cheama Matthew Tindal degeaba! Domane feri ce prostie!

Sa credem totusi in Ratiune! Ca de aceea ne-a lasat-o Dumnezeu ca unealta suprema. Sa ne folosim de ea. Nu stiu cine a fost omul din vis, sa poata folosi acele batjocuri de argumnete pentru a-si scuza fapta ingrata."

Incerci sa te gandesti la ultimele lucrari si la ultimele idei pe care le-ai adunat pentru sustinerea teoriilor tale. Nu merge si incerci sa te gandesti la libertatea presei si la o alta seama de idei ce te consuma in mod normal. Nu reusesc sa te acapareze si acum si iti vine sa urli, dar nu ai vrea sa pari si mai nebun decat esti.

"Visul", daca i se poate spune asa, te bantuie si parca vrea sa traga pielea de pe tine si sa te scufunde intr-un cazan din cel mai indepartat cerc al Iadului. Si daca ar fi fost o simpla imagine, dar corpul tau simte ca s-a intamplat intocmai, isi aduce aminte si iti revine involuntar insasi placerea animalica si te uiti rusinat in jos, unde simti niste furnicaturi aspre si auzi strigate disperate, simti cum saliva ta se revarsa peste partile intime ale femeii, simti zvarcolirea ei si simti cum treptat inceteaza a mai lupta cu acel moment fatal. Simti cum lichidul cald tasneste brutal peste corpul devorat al femeii.

Tremuri din tot corpul si ti-e rau. Intri intr-un bar si speri sa poti uita...

***

M-am gandit atunci ca e o betie ciudata, una nereusita, in care incerci sa te cufunzi, dar care te scoate la suprafata ca apa sarata.

Cum ai violat-o pe biata femeie. Groaza revine, indiferent cata cantitate de alcool dai pe gat si iti agraveaza mai tare durerea de cap si senzatia de rau.

Lumea se uita ciudat la tine, pentru ca esti un om cunoscut, un om cult si totusi in acest moment pari un simplu oarecare nimeni, ca nenorocitul acela cu cicatrice care se uita urat la tine.

Simti cum iti tremura mana atunci cand barda ta strapunge coiful gunoiului de general ce se credea invincibil de atata timp, impreuna cu intregul sau imperiu. Ii vezi sangele pe jos si chipul inmarmurit si scuipi asupra-i scarbit, dupa care ii desprinzi capul de trup dintr-o lovitura dura, care face sa tasneasca mai mult sange din trupul razboinicului si parca arunca unde de spaima printre soldatii uniti sub stindardul sau.

Ridici un picior si il plasezi pe pieptul sau, lasandu-ti barda sa lunece pe langa trup, parca in speranta de-a se scurge de pe ea tot sangele nefast cu care fusese murdarita de atatea zile invaluite in haos.

Dar acum ai izbutit si ti-ai facut datoria fata de trib. La noapte vei juca cu..

Zvaceneste ceva pe langa urechea ta si parca vezi un punct negru, ce iti strabate cumva amorteala ce a pus stapanire pe corpul tau dupa ultima lovitura si incepi sa simti un junghi in nas, in gAT -

***

Esti intr-un pat in camera ta, pe cand reusesti sa deschizi putin ochii si vezi un preot, invesmantat in negru. Iti zambeste.

***

Vrei sa stii mai multe asa-i ? Acum ca incepi sa simti ca ai mai trait si alte vieti inainte, ai vrea sa stii mai multe.. ai vrea sa stii ce realizari ai avut. Ai vrea sa stii daca persoana pe care o iubesti acum si pe care o simti atat de apropiata nu ai mai iubit-o si in alte vieti? Ati fost fericiti? Ati avut copii?

Ai fost in armata, ai luptat la Waterloo? In Normandia? Ai murit ca un caine, mutilat intr-un transeu?

Si daca si stii toate acestea, ti-ai mai putea continua viata? Ai innebuni? Ai deveni paranoic ca cineva ti-a implantat memeorii false?

Te-ai lauda ca ai scris Turnul Intunecat si ca ai avut o cariera de succes ca scriitor? Te-ai luada ca ai cantat la curtea lui Philip IV al Frantei?

Nebunie, culori intunecate, purpuriu, galben, oranj, parfum de trandafiri, urlete de bestie, flacari din furnal, viol, placere, sughit, voma, bere, vin, vodka, betii, inselari, plasmuri, picturi, desene, arta, scris, furt, omor, ura, invidie, dezgust, scleroza, parkinson, floricele, jocuri copilaresti, pedofilism, ursulet de plus, un om decapitat, iubire, cei mai frumosi ochi caprui, cicatrice, frunza vesteda, general spanzurat, cutit in coaste, apa de ploaie, veselie, neputinta -

Toate iti trec prin cap rapid, astfel incat abia mai prinzi firimituri din fiecare, nu mai apuci sa le procesezi si iti doresti o betie.. da .. iti doresti sa poti uita totul, sa te indepartezi de aceste nerozii, sa reiei totul de la inceput.

Iti doresti ca aceasta betie sa fie una reusita, in care te cufunzi si uiti chiar totul. Se cere o betie !

***

Simti cum te departezi de ceva, sau cum ceva se departeaza de tine si auzi niste sunete ciudate, parca. Te irita atata oxigen si parca deslusesti ceva in surdina.

Felicitari, doamna! Fetita a iesit sanatoasa!

What is Friday without music?

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 12:59:00 +0000

What is Friday without music?
It's so hard to pass
'N I'm starting to make you sick
I'm covered all up in stress
I never wanted a day without a song
It always makes me unhappy
And it always make me long
For more music ...

What is Friday without music?
There's like no end to the week
Desolated feeling little
Spare me just one cute tiny Beatle
And I'll make him sing Hey, Jude!
Friday may go without love, dude
But not without music... oh, not without music.

Gilly the Bard and the Quest for Cif

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 06:16:00 +0000

Gilly the Bard was a merry fellow,
His hair was green and his teeth were yellow.
Fiddling fiddlers all day long
Whispering stories of ages far gone
Lost in between reality and song
With all of it, he was done !

"Indeed!" The bard screamed to the old man. "Don't lie, don't say you know it all!"
"Well, well, let us not lose our temper, now." The old man said in a very relaxed manner. He was a Fuzzy Furball and Fuzzy Furballs are always over-excited about the most peculiar things when they are young, and even when they grow old, they still have that foolish over-joy, but they are relaxed... much more relaxed and gentle.
"I'm tired of this! All I've ever done was drink tea and cheap wine, fool around with servant girls in the inns and sing about all sorts of crazilly glorious things to entertain drunkards in taverns. I deserve no glory ! I want to go back to all of that."
"He--he-hehe-he-he! He!" Fuzzy Furballs had a very annoying laugh and not even Gilly, who lived long in their lands, could ever get used to it. "We've all seen you Gilly boy! You killed the Dragon, the big Fiery Beast! He was raining Fires of Heaven on our poor souls and you saved us all! This is a story that will pass through the Ages, like strawberry flavored jelly in pots of silver - ..." and he continued to rant on, in a very Fuzzy way.

They'd even found a Prophecy for him. They said it was a Prophecy of Him. "The Merry Fellow of the Crystal Shard", written in the First Age after the great Furball Utopian Circle of Kollost. "You wouldn't wanna see the initials on that one!" was Gilly's joke, every time the ale got to him a little.

Slaying the Dragon was an accident. How could he have known that the Growling Beast was on that tree, taking a nap, in his Morning Dragon form ? He was simply fooling around with Sweet Lady Cif (a very misterious creature, that one) and as she tickled him intensly, he wanted to impress her with a Warrior's Refusal Stance. He learned that one a while back, and it implied that he thrusts the blade into the air, as if saying that no matter what she'd throw at him, he would never accept her .. hand. All warriors did that just to try to seem uninterested, even though they craved for women like dogs, and Ladies always fell for it, for some bizzare reason, beyond normal creature understanding.

And as he thrust the sword into the air.. well.. it wasn't actually air behind him. It was the green silhouette of the Evil Dragon in his Morning Form (a very small form, used by some Dragons to give them the possibility to take a nap in some tree). Yes, he just fell out of the tree. "Who could predict that?" he told everybody.

That's how he killed the Evil-Growling-Fiery-Beast-Dragon! Thus, the Dragon was dead, Lady Cif was gone and he was no longer a bard... he became a Hero ! And you wouldn't want to hear the Long Title, given to him by the Fuzzy Furballs.

Usually a story ends with the Beast being slain... but it is not our case, nor the case of Gilly, oh, no!

Fires of Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 11:01:00 +0000

You can twist the name of the Ages,
You can turn or burn them like pages!
From the hollows -
Your horrid scream follows,
Being driven, by unholly sorrows!
- Dive into the Clouds -
You color them bloodly
- Shaking lower grounds -
And breaking them Godly
- Everlasting Might -
This time around we run, not fight
For we see it all!
All the world be scorched
All our dreams are torched
- Oh, here's the Ravens ! -
Being fed... - by the Fires of Heaven

And here's a note about this piece. It was thought of as a Heavy Metal anthem for the Dragon Reborn, Rand al' Thor, main character in The Wheel of Time series. The title is actually the one used by the author, Robert Jordan, on his 5th volume of The Wheel of Time.

Hey Soul SIster !

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 17:25:00 +0000

Man, I just love this one. It always amazes me the student life in other countries and as mizerable as this makes me feel, I still love the clip and the song. It is very dynamic and it managed to hold my interest, until the end, which is quite rare.

Behold !

Iris Iris Iris ! 06 Iunie 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 15:10:00 +0000

Da, da, da eu stiu! Iris e clar cea mai buna formatie din Romania si trebuie sa recunosc ca nu ma asteptam sa ii vad atat de "in forta" aseara!

Inca ma doare gatul, atat de la cantat, cat si de la zbenguit. Si ma incanta acest lucru, pentru ca asta inseamna de obicei ca am fost la un concert foarte bun.

A inceput destul de tarziu concertul si am fost putin nemultumit de faptul ca s-a facut prea multa reclama concertului Iron Maiden. M-i s-a parut a fi o mica lipsa de respect fata de Iris.

Au aparut pe scena, acompaniati de batai frenetice din palme si urlete, toata lumea fiind nerabdatoare si abia asteptand sa sune riffurile si tobele. Partea cu desavarsire foarte faina a concertului a fost ca piesele au venit pur si simplu una dupa alta, fara tot felul de mici pauze care sa-ti rapeasca din interes si extaz ! Au fost nebuni! Nu i-am vazut de multa vreme asa in forma.

Au cantat multe piese de pe albumele vechi, ceea ce a fost super. Baby a fost (spre surprinderea mea) a doua piesa cantata si nu au lipsit nici Somn Bizar, Lady in Black, Eterna, Vino Iar, Strada Ta, ce mai? Toate piesele bune, care au sunat de-a dreptul nemaipomenit Live !

Ca la orice formatie adevarata, piesele lor au sunat mult mai bine live decat pe caseta (sau no, winamp :P ).

Un pic a fost problema la Lady in Black, o problema enervanta cu sunetul, dar in rest a fost ok.

Din nou, nu am avut norocul sa-i aud cantand "Domnul X" live, si mi-a parut rau totusi ca nu am avut parte de un solo de tobe, din partea lui Nelu Dumitrescu.

The crowd was wild ! Toata lumea a cantat, ceea ce l-a incantat vizibil pe Cristi. Ma asteptam sa fie un concert bun, oricum la toate concertele Iris merita mers, dar a fost unul extraordinar si tot ce pot sa spun este ca abia il astept pe urmatorul. Au facut cei de la Servus Cluj o gafa pe acolo, dar tot respectul pentru organizarea acestui concert !

Ii multumesc lui Marius Crisan pentru pozele de la concert!

Everybody loves 'em

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sat, 29 May 2010 18:06:00 +0000

A new one for you ;)

Yo Dawg I Herd You Like TNT

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Mon, 24 May 2010 15:51:00 +0000

Babel Story . Com - Social Writting on the Web!

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sat, 08 May 2010 05:57:00 +0000

How many of you have tried this out? No, not babel story.com, I'll get to that, but I'm talking about starting a story and then having your friends continue it. We used to play games like this when we were away on trips and even just for fun, while grabbing something to drink.

Now you can do this online, with a lot of different other people, on a very good platform, that allows users to connect to one another, to share and of course to start their very own stories or simply to continue other's.

There are a lot of languages and topics available on the website, as well as genres. You can follow a story, so that you're always updated upon how it's continued.

The interface is great and very easy to understand.

I'm telling you, it's a total Mind Healer, so go to babelstory.com and start reading, start writting, because writting has never been more fun!

Babel Story Website !

Asta merge pe Bloguri! Google stie adevarul despre Florin Salam!

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 06:45:00 +0000

Deci, care deci sunteti, deci uitati aici ca Google chiar stie multe si tocmai mi-a confirmat o teorie pe care o aveam de ceva vreme, cum ca Florin Salam e international (in termeni manelaresti: "mondial") si ca e chiar mai negru decat arata si ca se numeste Akon!

Da da, nu radeti! Intrati pe translate.google.com, dati sa traduca din romana in engleza si scrieti "Florin Salam". Apoi, veti vedea adevarul!

Hai ca am ras bine, v-am pupat!

PS: dati mai departe pe bloguri, cat e cald!

To Breach Reality

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 06:56:00 +0000

To Breach Reality

A play by Muresan Florin Petru

Dramatis Personae

Narrator/Nathaniel Daniel Todds – main character

Detective – handles Nathan’s case

Jacob – best friend of Nathan and Rob

John – friend of Nathan and Jacob, also imaginary friend of Eddie (few lines)

Dorian – friend of Nathan and Rob, knows Jacob. Referred to as Junkie Kong, due to his vast expertise in the area of certain “ingredients”

Rob – best friend of Nathan and Jacob. Currently ignores Jacob, however. Spends much time with Dorian

April – friend of Rob. Falls in love with Nathan

Policeman – at a crime scene (few lines)

Act I

Scene 1

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Detective]

NARRATOR: A dark interrogation room. The light is dim, but it manages to display the few things in the desolate room, namely a table and two chairs. Darkness engulfed the room and it seemed to hide terrible things. But were those things really hidden in the darkness or were they lurking deep within myself? The man in front of me was gazing into my eyes in a calm, but very intense manner. He tried to read me, he tried to look into my mind and into those dark things that lied in it. Suddenly a certain song came to me and it blocked out all my thoughts. It went like “The prophet stared at his crystal ball… There’s no vision there at all… The prophet looked and he laughed at me… he said you’re blind, too blind to see…”. My memory and my thoughts are somewhat fractured. They’ve been like this since summer. But just as all these passed through my mind, the man inclined his head and reached for his pocket.

DETECTIVE [reaches for his pocket and takes out a cigar]: You don’t mind, do you?

NATHAN [confused]: I’m sorry…aaa… what was that?

DETECTIVE [speaks as if to himself]: If only the attention you pay were equal to the price you’ll pay.

NATHAN: Oh, the cigar! Y-yes… light it.

DETECTIVE [lights the cigar]: look… don’t get me wrong. You seem like a really good kid. The only problem is that you’re losing your grip on reality.

NATHAN [first impulsive, then speaking kind of like a philosopher]: Reality?! Oh, please do tell me what real is and what is real. Reality you say? It is a mere concept of those who try to give shape to something abstract. It is but a simplification of things and it covers and defines little of all there is, just like a second-hand physical model. That is just how we humans are, it is in our very nature to build walls around ourselves, to actually limit and shackle ourselves and then to cry out loud for freedom and for the purpose of breaking all boundaries. Interesting, isn’t it? We have no purpose, so we struggle hard to give purpose to everything, only because we want our short lives not to have been in vain! The problem of the modern man.

DETECTIVE [smoking]: Todds, we’re kinda missing the point here.

NATHAN: The point?! What point is there to reality? Why such a thin line between normal and mad? And isn’t madness the natural state of things? Why try to advert the change of this state? Because that is your reality, something opposed to that which is natural, which is true!

DETECTIVE: So reality is something fake? It is an illusion?

NATHAN: It does contain little truth, but it is not The Truth. If reality were as perfect as you people are inclined to think we wouldn’t seek to escape it, now would we?

DETECTIVE: So you did or do have a grip on reality, you just try to escape it?

NATHAN: We ALL try to escape it. We’ve tried since we started to have a sense of this deadly concept. Oh, yes! We’ve struggled to escape scientific facts regarding that which is deemed real, through faith in destiny, gods, love and other such abstract things. We try to escape reality through art, even when it mimics reality. Thus, real becomes unreal and the unreal tries to become real. It is all but a spin, such as the roll of a joint. Think about it: almost everyone drinks, smokes, gets high only to be able to break free from this sick reality.

DETECTIVE [smokes]: The last ones seem to be the dangerous ones, however.

NATHAN: None of them ARE dangerous, except when there is excess. Excess in drugs might have indirectly generated serious gang wars, but excess in faith has generated World Wars. Hitler’s conviction brought genocide, something that still screams violently to our consciousness. The excess in faith brought about the misery of the Middle Ages, the Dark Ages! And the excess in art brought about the incineration of Rome!

DETECTIVE: What you say is interesting, I’ll give you that…

NARRATOR: The man looked to the floor, then to the ceiling. He was thinking intensely. He glanced at me suddenly and then gazed at his detective badge. Finally, he turned his focus to me again.

DETECTIVE: You were there, but you did not shoot that man. No, you didn’t.

NATHAN [excited]: You truly believe!

DETECTIVE [amused]: It isn’t any sort of excess, I assure you! Tell me more about your friend, Jacob…

NARRATOR: It was more then peculiar. Bizarre was too weak a word. Someone considered Jacob at last. I did not want him imprisoned, even if he really did shoot that man. Yet, this detective definitely knew his way around, regardless of the fact that he didn’t really talk much.

Scene 2

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Jacob]

NARRATOR: Flashes and incoherent memories. I race through them, not knowing what I want to reach. The mind of humans is the greatest mystery of all, for it holds all mysteries. That’s what some think. But isn’t it just a massive electric circuit that generates thoughts and feelings such as software on a computer? If only it could be fixed. Still roaming through the stream of fluid images, sounds and smells, all sorts of shadows occur and I delve into the unreal. Suddenly, I wake up in a memory of the 31st of December. The room in my house was diligent in providing me with intense claustration. Just as I sat on the couch tormenting myself with different thoughts, Jacob came in.

JACOB: May I?

NATHAN [confused]: Y-yes… sure, sit.

JACOB: What’s up, man? You were so excited about this party and now you’re just sitting there brooding.

NATHAN: Why can’t you and Rob get along these days?

JACOB: We never did get along, really.

NATHAN: At the very least don’t lie to yourself like this. It does not become you.

JACOB [irritated]: Look, I don’t know what the bloody hell is the problem with him, OK? You know that he can’t stand me since summer. Whenever you say my name he just freaks out. I’m so tired of such stupid things.

NATHAN: So that’s why you bailed out at shopping today?

JACOB: Did you see the look on his face when you asked him where I was?

NATHAN: I remember it, yes. It was pretty bizarre how he was grinning as usual while entertaining those fair ladies and all of a sudden his expression turned darker. His voice wanted to appear friendly, but I felt it as sharp as Excalibur when he said “Jake isn’t with us anymore, man.”

JACOB: I’m really sick of him ignoring me almost every time we go somewhere together.

NATHAN: What gets to me is the fact that none of you care to explain why you guys do these to yourselves! I mean… you were closer to Rob then I ever will be. I’d really like to know what transpired last summer.

JACOB: That just makes two of us, doesn’t it? Trust me when I say that I can’t make any more sense out of it then you can.

NATHAN: He said you should come to the party. I thought…

JACOB [impulsive]: Give it a rest, mate! I’m not gonna talk to him. I’ll drop a “hello!” if it’s the case, but I’ll just get some beer, girls and I think I’m gonna rap a little bit with MC Veyo.

NATHAN: Now that you mention it, you were supposed to record some songs with Veyo, weren’t you?

JACOB: Yep… but then summer kicked in.

NATHAN: That odd summer. Things went south ever since.

JACOB: They still are. You’ve changed a lot. You’ve become quite unreachable and you always seem consumed by various things.

NATHAN: Everything just seems to go wrong. Naught in this life brings happiness or stops the pain. I’m taking all that medication, but still I only get head-aches and depression.

JACOB: You used to be a jolly fellow. I always thought that you’ll never know depression. How wrong I was.

NATHAN: That just makes two of us again. It simply seems that life is constant suffering.

JACOB: You don’t mean that!

NATHAN: I don’t have to mean it. It’s not my idea and it never will be. Ideas just come and go, like the smoke of dro’.

JACOB: Oh, and you’re also incoherent at times.

NATHAN: Right, sorry about it. I have to get myself together.

JACOB: And you have to let go of all that stress.

NATHAN: How can I? When I woke up today and saw that Parker and you were gone again I got so pissed.

JACOB: Yes, John did tell me he’ll leave us for a while.

NATHAN: It’s not just about his disappearing acts, nor yours for that matter. There are just so many irrational thoughts that add up to my anxiety.

JACOB: “Human” thoughts as I call them, right?

NATHAN: Exactly… They just make me see how deeply flawed each of us is, mighty God’s creations!

JACOB: And there I thought you were a believer.

NATHAN: There’s too much confusion… no reason to get excited about religion. My parents taught me all about it, they spoke of love, of family and where are they now? They’ve gone away on one of their many endless business trips, that are making trip over the love and respect I have for them.

JACOB: Did they write to you?

NATHAN: They didn’t, the parents I knew. Only these new abominations who share their appearance, but not their souls. They wrote to enlighten me upon the progress that Jared, son of their friends, made in the last year and to tell me how Angelina, some 19 year old chick, struck a deal of I don’t know how many hundreds of dollars. Then they asked me how much was the minimum pay and what my salary was. And in the end of their warm-hearted letter they mentioned that their new friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hell-knows-who have never been disappointed by their successful son.

JACOB: Nothing about me, I presume.

NATHAN: Only that I should let you go.

JACOB [amused]: Remind me never to say that again.

NATHAN: Frack it all, Jacob! I’m so sick and tired of this whole bloody world. Successful son, dollars, deals… sounds to me like they struck a deal with the Devil and he took their souls.

JACOB: If they try to destroy you, they are on the right path.

NATHAN: It’s horrible how parents always seem to get to their children in such a devastating manner that they bring havoc to their mood, their happiness and most importantly to their minds and to their lives. They have this strange and lustful desire to become puppet masters. They take great joys from causing all this angst, under the mask of wishing only the Greater Good to their children.

JACOB: Horrible excuses for role-models, if you ask me.

NATHAN: I wish it on no one to become like them, so obsessed with money. That’s what they think about all day. I remember sometimes how they used to care about art and how they had all sorts of interesting activities. Now they are but ghouls, enslaved to their jobs, living, but dead.

JACOB [amused]: ‘Tis no wonder then why people are so into zombie movies. They adore their reflection, just like a grotesque Narcissus.

NATHAN: Quite true… I always thought that I’d like working with people, but ever since I’ve started working at Wal-Mart I began hating them so much.

JACOB: You are always impulsive and irritated as of late.

NATHAN: There is so much anger aimed in no particular direction and sometimes I just seem to lose it.

JACOB [laughing]: Just like you ran after that fat guy’s car today. I had to drag, to literally drag you into the store.

NATHAN: I would have beaten him up very good. He really scorned the nest, that slimy bastard. It’s great you held me though. I don’t like getting into fights and I wish not to become such a horrible person.

JACOB: Then you’ve seriously gotta work on yourself. And you really have to let go of all this pain, this rage. Especially the stress. It’s eating you from the inside, devouring who you are.

NATHAN: Worry not. I shall not let it happen.

JACOB: What about that chick?

NATHAN: What chick, man?

JACOB: Don’t you act a fool, bro’! The blue-eyed brunette you so digged, of course.

NATHAN: Oh, you mean April!

JACOB: Oh, you knew who I was talking about.

NATHAN: Snap! Did it seem as if I were into her?

JACOB: It seemed to me, let’s just hope it didn’t seem to her.

NATHAN: Damn right! She is the loveliest I’ve seen in a while.

JACOB: So you’re bent on doing something about it? If so, you gotta gear up with those clothes you bought last week. Use my perfume if you must.

NATHAN: I see, so it’s yours now?

JACOB: That’s what you told me and I ain’t arguin’. Nates, be cool man! Cast all these thoughts aside, go there, rock the party and rock her as well.

NATHAN: Will do, mate! Hey, thanks for being there for me.

JACOB: I told you I’ll be there for you always when you need me. And a summer doesn’t change that.

Scene 3

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Dorian]

NARRATOR: It twists and turns, it hurts, it burns. Trying to make sense out of things so dense, I wonder how it came to this, but mostly what it has come to. Thick clouds of the unknown cover the purple haze and induce a greater daze. So desperately I skim through the memories I can still gather, but not knowing what I search for makes it even harder.

DORIAN: Rise and shine, Daniel boy.

NARRATOR: A long distance call strikes me in the cloudy sky and makes me fall. I stumble upon the image of Rob’s big living room. Dorian was on a chair across the table and opposed to the couch I was lying on.

DORIAN [amused]: I really do believe that you are going to star in the next Transformers movie, Nathan, my boy.

NATHAN [confused]: Let me guess… I-i transformed again.

DORIAN: You’re starting to see the greater picture… good!

NATHAN: Just like Christmas, I think…

DORIAN [laughing, then amused]: Nothing like Christmas, mate! You totally rocked the night… and that pretty face. Rocked her real good from the sound of it, if you comprehend my words.

NATHAN: W-wow… it got out of hand then…

DORIAN [laughing]: Mostly out of clothes, really!

NATHAN: Still a crazy fraker!

DORIAN: Still the best. Please, it has a nicer ring to it.

NATHAN: Snap! I’m so dehydrated… and the head-ache…

DORIAN: Alcohol will do that to a man, other then help him transform, of course. Vodka, whisky, beer, tequila, wine, rum were quite not meant to be together, my friend.

NATHAN: Hell, I’ve always been into experimental. Be right back!

DORIAN: Take your time. Don’t get too shocked when you see Rob nailing the blond in the hall.

NATHAN: People really do need some classes on Ethics.

[exit Nathan]

DORIAN: It seems that my magic ingredients do the trick all the time. This night was wild. Oh, the looks on their faces when they saw me like this, the jocks in high school. They’d so love to be in my place now. It’s funny… the huge respect you get when you know how to exploit the earthly pleasures. The pleasures of the senses beat the pleasures of the soul and intellect for most people these days. They never get any pleasure for their souls and intellect, only pain and degradation, so they do the easy thing, the only thing that ever crosses their minds: trying to cure the soul by means of the senses. In my opinion they all exaggerate this idea and start losing all sense of the ethics, thus plunging their souls deeper into sorrow and decay. They all believe that exaggeration is the only thing that can bring something exquisite into their ordinary, monotonous lives. Poor worker bees…

[enter Nathan]

NATHAN: It was a red-head.

DORIAN: Well you know what they say: “the key in life is to move on”.

NATHAN [laughing]: You guys are hopeless!

DORIAN: To have hope is to try to cope with the lack of options and purpose in the night so restless.

NATHAN [amused]: Getting poetic now, aren’t we?

DORIAN: Poetry is just an expression of the soul and to get poetic is only a desperate attempt to reach it. I do have a soul, Nathaniel.

NATHAN: Yes, but you’ve always been into physics.

DORIAN: Just like I’ve told you, the key in life is to move on. Now I’m studying the metaphysics.

NATHAN: You’ve always enjoyed breaching reality.

DORIAN: It’s the only natural thing to do, really.

[enter Rob]

ROB [laughing]: Daniel, my brother!

DORIAN: And there you have him folks, Sir Elton John!

NATHAN [irritated]: Don’t call me that! What the shell?! I’ve never told you my middle name.

ROB: Oh, so it’s truly your name. Haha! I thought you just made it up.

DORIAN: You’ve called yourself that at the Christmas party as well.

ROB: Nathaniel Daniel Todds. The mystery revealed. I believed you used it only to name the mode you’re in when transformed.

DORIAN: Oh, yeah! Daniel mode! Transform!

[Dorian and Rob laugh out loud]

NATHAN: Remind me to program Daniel to buy a gun when I’m in that mode again and shoot you.

ROB: Whatever man. It’s so cool to see you like that. You made quite the sensation, I’ll give you that.

DORIAN: It was peculiar though. It’s either you’ve changed profoundly or that wasn’t really you.

NATHAN: It’s sure great to be friends with you guys. You’re always so sweet when you say it like that: “I can’t believe you can be awesome, Nathan. It simply can’t be!”

ROB: How was April, bro’?

DORIAN: Thus, the subject changes.

NATHAN: I hate to say it, but I think it wise to change the subject. Otherwise, Daniel will buy a gun and shoot.

DORIAN: All I can do is hope that you are only joking actually.

ROB: Now seriously, bro’, how did you find April?

NATHAN: She’s awesome. I haven’t seen such a lovely girl in quite some time now.

DORIAN: That good in bed, huh?

ROB: Dear Dorian, you mistake my bro’ for someone resembling yourself. Nate is the type that finds more in women then just sensual pleasure.

DORIAN: Now you made me look like a Middle Age man.

NATHAN: Sometimes you are, dear Junkie Kong.

ROB [laughs]: Yep, royalty in the kingdom of weeds. The merch was exquisite, as you’d say.

DORIAN: Great, now let us talk costs.

ROB: Shall I call a subject change again?

NATHAN [laughing]: I think it mandatory this time. Let us send the starved beast on a wrong path.

DORIAN: I should buy a gun myself, it seems.

NATHAN: You wouldn’t shoot, hippie!

DORIAN: Neither would you, I presume.

Scene 4

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and April]

NARRATOR: Have you ever tried to get to a memory, but it’s just out of reach? Psychology teaches us that no memory is ever lost, we just can’t remember it and that it might simply come out of nowhere when you least expect. I am still flying through the ruthless mist, which doesn’t want to let me see past it. I’m trying hard to find answers by looking into all my memories. I don’t care about the case, nor about the trial. I only wish to know more. Every now and then I reach some clearings in the great mist. I’m very glad when I find them. This one brought me great joy and great sorrow at the same time. Me and April were sitting close at a table in an ancient and enigmatic looking café. The music was awesome, very nice blues, oldies and rock n’ roll. I still remember how it felt.

APRIL: Why did you just check your watch again? Sometimes this habbit of yours makes me wonder if I really bore the life out of you.

NATHAN: It’s nothing like that. I’ve told you that it’s so great with you. I have to get home to take my medication, at least today.

APRIL: I know, I know, but it’s just like we can never be together for more then two or three hours.

[Nathan kisses her]

NATHAN: We’re just busy people, that’s all.

APRIL: It’s like you never try to see me more then the usual allocated time.

NATHAN: Don’t say that.

APRIL: I’m sorry. I forgot you hated to hear the truth being stated.

NATHAN: What can I do? I can’t change over night. I’ll need some time for the change to take place.

APRIL: Right, whatever. Do you really need to take that medication all the time?

NATHAN: Yes, it’s mandatory for me, you know. I have to take it to kill the stress.

APRIL: You talk about stress so much, but you’re always so fine when we hang out.

NATHAN: When I’m with you, all the bad things scatter, they seem to leave me forever, dear April.

[Nathan kisses her again]

APRIL: Then stay! Or lets just walk again, the streets at night, head towards the river and lie on its banks.

NATHAN: This would be the 4th day in a row that I skip the medication for you.

APRIL: Yes, but I love walking with you.

NATHAN: I love you.

APRIL [emotional]: I love you too.

[they kiss again, longer this time]

APRIL: I wondered when you’d tell me.

NATHAN: Just waited to be sure.

APRIL: I’m glad you did, Nathaniel. I love you.

NATHAN: Love you too, dear April.

Act II

Scene 1

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Detective]

DETECTIVE: But you and I, we’ve been through that and this is not our fate.

NARRATOR: It is not our fate. Simple worms. They are hideous. Slimy. It’s grotesque how they crawl. Birds eat them. Men eat them. Men kill them. Colorful birds. They’re beautiful. They grace us with their singing. Cats eat them. Men eat them. Mean kill them. Domestic cats. Proud, majestic, funny, hypocrites. They saw that men help them. Men eat them. Men kill them. Men. Many things. Top of the food chain. The biggest predator. Men eat them. Men kill them. Is that our fate? Self-destruction? The idea seems horrible, exaggerated, false, but we feel it true, most of us know it is true. Inferior animals don’t concern themselves with such thoughts. They know naught about faith, reality, love, chemistry, ethics, physics and others. We know about them, but to what ends? We lead ourselves to degradation because we have a sense of all these concepts and because we try to escape them. I’m in the great maze, with many dead-ends and broken paths that is my mind. I seek to break free… The interrogation room. Dark as ever. What if me and her shared the same destiny? To lie in darkness until the end of time. The detective sat on the chair in front of me. To my surprise, he didn’t grow tired. He just watched me, still trying to look into my inner self.

DETECTIVE: So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.

NATHAN: Well, I have to say that I agree with what you say. But just with half of it. It may not be your fate, but what if it’s mine?

DETECTIVE: There are many things in life which we should be afraid of, which we should never seek to know, but that would be another one of those limits you say we impose on ourselves. Some things we avoid because we deem them to be too poisonous, too vial. But they are only as poisonous as we permit them be. While the thought that your fate is self-destruction may send you on a deadly path, you must not let it do so, you must concentrate upon the other beliefs you have regarding your fate. Thus, you might find the light you so desperately struggle to find.

NATHAN: Are you sure you are a detective?

DETECTIVE: Are you sure you are a low pay Wal-Mart employee? Please do bear in mind that stereo-types are other dangerous limitations of our perspective… Many things from childhood can strongly influence the paths we choose, the ideals we have. They have the latent power to shape our destiny in ways horribly peculiar.

NATHAN: It’s interesting what you say. I’ve also seen this thing many times and it never fails to amaze me.

DETECTIVE: So tell me something from you childhood, then.

NATHAN: Eddie. Yes, Eddie. When I was a little kid, this best friend of mine used to be some sort of role-model for me. I’ve been fascinated by everything he did. I always followed his example, even though I never admitted it and always claimed to be very original myself. One day, I found out that Edie had an imaginary friend he called John. I’ve been very disappointed with myself. I didn’t have any imaginary friends. Nor could I have. I tried very hard to generate one, but my mind simply denied me such a wish. I thought that it would be so helpful, so great to have someone always there for you, maybe even help you see things about yourself that you couldn’t naturally see.

DETECTIVE: Yet another try to break free the shackles of reality. Even in childhood. Tell me more about John. Tell me more about the time you spend with Dorian. It may seem odd, but I think that knowing one’s friends helps very much in knowing one’s self.

Scene 2

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds, Jacob and Policeman]

NARRATOR: How heavy my wings are. I feel the weight of the world upon them. But I know that I have to fly on through the purple haze. I have to know. What are sins, actually? Is the fear of sins but another way to strangle our ego? Is it destructive to embrace them? Does committing them bring more pleasure or more pain? Do we commit them only to show our frustrations to a higher power, a god who left us here so lonely and hopeless? Is it a serious problem to consider sins beautiful? My wings are heavy, but I must fly on. I have to know. Did I kill that man? Deadliest of sins this is. The blood in my veins starts pumping rapidly and I feel like losing it. Finally, I reach another memory, one other piece of this horrid puzzle that became my mind. A crime scene. Sirens sound wild all around. Jacob, John and I stand near the body. A policeman comes near. He gazed upon me, as if I were the only one there.

POLICEMAN: Seven months ago, in summer there was a crime around here, resembling this one, yes.

JACOB: I told you, Nate! That odd summer.

NATHAN: How did you know?

POLICEMAN [a little confused]: I-I’ve asked someone, just like you told me to. I shall be there if you need to know more.

NATHAN: Right, sir! Thank you!

[exit Policeman]

JACOB: John, you’ve turned to stone!

NATHAN: I think it shook him real good, seeing this.

JACOB: Just imagine it. You go out one night, have fun and when you return home, some bastard assaults you and stabs your body from head to toes, then runs away, gone into the night.

NATHAN: It must be horrible.

JACOB: Trust me, mate, it is! Think about it. Everything he was, all the aspirations, all the dreams he had, gone in one moment of excruciating pain. Yes, all that he was went down the drain.

NATHAN: Frightening thought.

JACOB: Frightening? Nate, dreadful is such a weak word for that experience. There are so many connections to this world, promises, feelings, ideas, dreams, desires, hopes, that if one died, these connections might prove impossible to be severed, rendering the soul of oneself unable to move on. Then that great person would become a simple memory that brings great joys, but mostly great sorrows, or it would become a mindless ghost seeking revenge in many various ways.

NATHAN: I would avenge you if such tragedy befell you, dear friend!

JACOB: I seriously doubt it, bro’! You don’t have it in you to kill a man. Your mind would have to go through a drastic change to permit you do such a thing.

NATHAN [speaks strangely]: Unexpected changes do occur, mate. That, I am quite sure of.

JACOB: You couldn’t transform like that. Not you, Nathan.

Scene 3

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Dorian]

DORIAN: Daniel boy, again you amaze me with your skills.

NARRATOR: Dorian’s voice cut through the fog and dragged me back in time. We just woke up after yet another night of evasion from the real world. We were in the kitchen, eating and drinking coffee.

DORIAN: Still, I can’t figure out whether or not they are simple fiction-writing skills.

NATHAN [confused, speaks harshly]: Bloody h… my head… w-what are you talking about?

DORIAN: I wonder how come you didn’t get used to these harsh mornings, yet. We’ve been wasting ourselves and our lives for quite some time now.

NATHAN: I’d do anything to kill off some feelings and thoughts.

DORIAN: Didn’t you take medication for that?

NATHAN: I did. But not taking it made me feel very unusual, very bizarre, really. It’s something that might as well destroy me, but it’s too interesting for me to let go. And when it gets out of hand I do prefer the Junkie Kong cannabis methods.

DORIAN: I’m glad you came to appreciate my work, but I must state that you’ve transformed quite often lately. Rob seems really worried.

NATHAN: Maybe he should be. Let us get back to what you said about skills. What did you mean?

DORIAN [amused]: It’s funny how you forget everything we speak about, when you get back to Nathaniel mode.

NATHAN: Then please do enlighten my current mode.

DORIAN: You tell me all sorts of crime stories when we start saying our fare-wells to reality, if you know what I mean. I’ve been asking myself if you really conducted all those investigations, or if you simply imagined them. I wondered if your skills were of artistic nature, or if they were really detective skills.

NATHAN [speaks as if to himself]: I’m guessing they started after I’ve seen that crime scene.

DORIAN: What is the point to living if one can’t remember the most extraordinary moments of one’s life? Nathan, my boy, you are missing out on the most intriguing things I have ever learnt about yourself, because of your transformations. Rob might really be right to worry about your well-fare so much. Anyway, when we start kicking it seriously you begin to expose the many chases and serious investigations you make. There are always crimes in that area of the city and always the criminal moves towards the center of it. You told me how you witnessed two of those crimes and how you ran after that guy wearing a black hoody. The first time he got you lost through the many narrow streets. The second time you’ve followed him to a street in the center of the area and then through the sewers. You lost him underground, but you did manage to take a picture of that guy. I’ve managed to edit it so that you can see his face quite clear.

NATHAN: Thank you. It sounds I’m more of a vigilante then a detective.

DORIAN: Yes, I made it sound like it. I apologize for that. The interesting part is how you found out when and where the criminal strikes. The area you drew on your map is huge and it’s in the most dangerous parts of the city. Police think it’s some strange gang that appeared only recently. You’ve told me that there is indeed a new gang there and that you are always careful not to run into them. They also use bladed weapons for their kills. You also said that the guy you’re after only stabs dark-haired, blue-eyed, handsome people of about 18-22 years. They also wear goatees and have long hair. You said that all victims shared these distinctive features. Two months and three kills already.

NATHAN: Jacob looks like that, just like that.

DORIAN [confused]: J-Jacob?

NATHAN: Yes, Jake. You know him, Dorian.

DORIAN: Y-yes, of course I do. I’m just curious what you will do when you find the killer. Maybe you should tell Rob about all this. Last summer he spent much time in those places, until he got beaten up one day. Some thugs took him by surprise in one of those alleys. Nearly killed him. He was lucky some guy passed by and tipped off the cops.

NATHAN: Is that w-why scars, face, hands, god my, I mean, tell?

DORIAN: Nathaniel, I do prefer my salads be made out of vegetables or fruits, not words.

NATHAN [impulsive]: Frack! I h-have to do something!

DORIAN: You really haven’t been yourself since you quit taking your medication. Maybe that’s what you have to do.

NATHAN: I-I think you’re right. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I can’t believe Rob didn’t tell me about that.

DORIAN: I only got it out of him one night when he was too wasted to realize that he was unveiling his great secret. How marvelous my ingredients are!

NATHAN: I’ve always wanted to know where he got those scars from.

DORIAN: What they did to him was inhumane, but then again, humans are but animals.

NATHAN: Dorian, please give me the picture of that killer.

DORIAN: Sure thing, dear Nathaniel. Be careful, though. You might end up alone on the streets with that killer near by.

NATHAN [unnatural voice]: I’m counting on that. It is time the wind began to howl.

DORIAN: Promise you’ll never show me that horrid look, ever again, Daniel boy.

Scene 4

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and April]

NARRATOR: Nothing in the room is strange, now tell me it’s the same boy. The labyrinth showed me many things, none of which I like. Apart from the love me and April shared, my lovely Eve… But my old engine of self-destruction, that is embedded somewhere in my brain, managed to annihilate all that as well. I think I remember how it all started, with a call. The ring resounds devastating through my inner self as I once again answer my phone. I put it on loudspeaker to hear her voice better. I knew she was going to yell. In what things I had started to take pleasure. I lied on the bed and waited for her to scream.

APRIL: How could you?! You blame me for not letting you take your stupid medication and then you end the conversation just like that?

NATHAN [irritated, sarcastic tone]: Yes, and I do it quite easily, shall I show you again?

APRIL [cries]: W-what’s happened with you, Nathaniel? I don’t want this for us.

NATHAN [serious, cold tone]: You don’t want this for yourself.

APRIL: How can you be so blind? You’re too blind to see.

NATHAN: See what? Your jealousy? How you look at me these days, with such huge pity? I don’t need your pity.

APRIL: You need me… and I need you, can’t you see?

NATHAN [touched]: Maybe, I don’t know what to say…

APRIL: I care for you so much. You’ve changed, profoundly. I can’t even begin to understand how deep this change is. Just take a look in the mirror. You’ll see that even your physical aspect has changed.

NATHAN [impulsive]: I’ve grown to hate mirrors. Pieces, walls… someone… not I know.

APRIL: Don’t do this Nathaniel. I wish to help you. Just speak to me. You never told me why you quit your job, nor why you spend so much time in those horrible places in this town.

NATHAN [lost]: Tell you, want… Do I.

APRIL [cries]: Please, take your medication again. I’ve begged you do so again many times after I’ve made the selfish mistake of keeping you with me. I told you I’m sorry. I want to help, I love you. I can’t bear seeing you like this.

NATHAN [stone-cold]: That’s why we’ve only been talking over the phone lately. See you soon.

NARRATOR: I closed the conversation, just like I shut this memory down right now. The pain… it’s overwhelming.

Act III

Scene 1

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Detective]

NARRATOR: There are strange things in this world. It is all a matter of perspective, really. Everything is and everything isn’t. We make the choice between what is and what is not. We make a choice as a people to accept some things as being true or as being real. This usually doesn’t have horrible consequences. But what happens when only one man makes his choice of what is and what isn’t? There are many examples. Right now, I am inclined to dramatize everything and say that my whole life is such an example. Am I a martyr of the belief that we must create our own standards, our own personal religions and that it is only natural to try and breach reality? Or is it all a mental dysfunction, a glitch in the huge maze circuit that is the human brain? And is it possible to repair it, or should it just be shut down?
Shutting it down would be so easy, yet so hard. I have thought very seriously and thoroughly to commit suicide. Commit suicide. It has such a dreadful ring to it. Sometimes I think that this is the reason I didn’t do it. I don’t believe this was it however and only two other reasons are left.
The first is the fact that I’ve always wanted to experience in life as many things as possible. I practiced all sorts of sports, especially those related to martial arts. I sang, I began to make music. I drew, I painted. I’ve written, I’ve acted. I’ve been good, I’ve been evil. One day I remembered Eddie. I wanted to play with madness. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a mental disorder. I came to feel two of them. But I wasn’t ready to face what it really meant. I didn’t envision the raging tempest that came along with it. I am tempted to say that I came to regret the effects of my wishful thinking. But that would be a lie.
I lost so much in this madness. Almost everything. I even lost myself at one point. Maybe if I lost everything I would have completed the seemingly natural process of self-destruction. I would have shot myself. But then again, I did not. I had no family, but I did have my friends. That is the second reason why I decided to live on. I was shocked when I figured this one out. My friends stayed with me, they still do. I’ve lost so much, only to gain the most important thing in our world: faith in others. It may seem cheap, childish, stupid. You see this kind of idea being written about in books, being depicted in movies, but it is truly remarkable and unique when you get to feel it in the real life, in what is generally accepted as being real life, of course.
I hated life, I hated people. Hated them so much that I actually tortured them and even killed one of them. I didn’t do it consciously. Isn’t it wondrous? The hate was so great that it spread its horrid tentacles deep into my very brain. The most extraordinary thing, however is how any firm belief and any feeling can be changed by an experience. So you see? I sought something that might prove interesting, but I found the most exquisite of all things. As I’ve said, it is all a matter of perspective.
Suddenly, the dark interrogation room didn’t seem as scary as before. The detective was writing something, but then he felt that I’ve ceased being focused on those strange inner thoughts.

DETECTIVE [lights a cigar]: Back to the real world? Ready to accept objective reality?

NATHAN: Yes, I am. I made peace with myself.

DETECTIVE: Good, because I’ve just finished my investigation. With what I’ve got here I can convince anyone that you, Nathaniel Todds did not shoot that man.

NATHAN: But who did?

DETECTIVE: You know the answer to that question already. Rob is a great friend to you, even if he doesn’t like to show it. He is afraid to display his emotions. Can’t blame him. I can only tell you that he has done very much for you. With the strings he pulled, none of what we talked or talk here leaves this room. Only what I’ve written here. Maybe you’ll provide me with a hint as to why he does all these for you. I’ll leave you to your thoughts for a couple of hours, Mr. Todds. If you’ll excuse me.

NATHAN: Sure, thank you!

Scene 2

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds, Jacob, John]

NARRATOR: Isn’t it interesting how we sometimes have a strong, bizarre desire to do something stupid that can have grave consequences? We’re masochists by birth, I believe at times. I refused to take the medication, no matter what April, Rob or Dorian said. I always deceived them when it came to this topic. I made it a habit to look into their eyes and lie to them. I was afraid that I had no conscience. The results are horrible for me to remember, but we are masochists after all. It was in my room. John sat on the couch, Jacob in my office chair.

JOHN: He beat that guy up real good.

JACOB: He didn’t beat him! He nearly killed him! Blood was flowing from all over. He cut the man with that small knife of his. Nathan is becoming a monster, John! Can’t you see?

JOHN: Why is he so consumed by all this? He acts as if he were on a quest for vengeance.

JACOB: He has no one to avenge! He doesn’t have to do anything like it!

JOHN: Is that so, Jacob?

JACOB: It blasted is! I know that if I were killed, I wouldn’t ask him to start such an insane vendetta. He is going too far with this one. He can’t let this case go. Ever since we’ve been to the scene of that crime he is hell-bent on killing that criminal, of making what he delusionally thinks is justice. Blood calls for more blood in his sick mind. We must do something to stop all of this, John. There might be serious bloodshed soon enough. He nearly killed this man, for crying out loud! He was a thug! That’s how he justified his act. I guess that’s what he has to say about that time when he tortured the other shady character from his favorite area. I really believe that he would have killed that one, if he didn’t get the information he wanted. It must be the Daniel guy that Dorian talks about. It is simply not in Nathaniel’s nature to take such sadistic pleasures in this inquisition of his. And he bought that gun! My gods, he is crazy. I was glad to help him get passwords to his parent’s bank accounts, but I’ve come to regret it greatly. He spends so much money on these clothes he wears when he conducts his investigations. I understand he doesn’t wish to be recognized, but the drawers are full! And now he bought a gun? What the frack is this? He is deeply paranoid, I’m telling you. All of this seems so unreal. What is all this?

[enter Rob]

ROB: Madness! I’m telling you, Nathaniel!

[snaps Nathan’s face]

ROB [angry]: Pull yourself together, man! Nathan, wake the hell up! Unbelievable… you lied about taking the medication. I pay that, all of it! And for what? To what ends? To see you waste your entire life in such a distasteful manner?

JACOB: Rob, you must do something!

ROB: Your eyes, man! I see no life in them. Wake up, already!

[snaps his face again, louder]

NATHAN: Back off, mor… off… kill.. me…you.

[they throw some punches to one another]

[there is a sound of something heavy hitting a head]

ROB: How did we come to this? It’s not what I wanted for you, little brother. I don’t want to lose you! Jacob’s gone, but I can still save you! I must…

Scene 3

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds and Rob]

NARRATOR: I stumbled upon a memory which I find interesting, because it’s built partially of what I can personally recall and partially of what Dorian and Rob told me. Rob took me to his house so that he could keep an eye on me and make sure that I start taking my medication again. Rob and I were sitting at a table in his house.

ROB: Nate, you gotta stop this foolish quest of yours.

NATHAN: Can’t!

ROB: You have to do better then that.

NATHAN: Desire! It’s a burning… pay he must… bastard, crimes committed!

ROB [impulsive]: Shut it and listen, Nate! This is not you. You don’t want to become this. You said it yourself.

NATHAN [laughing insane]: Not lie first time! Hahe!

ROB: Look, I’ve also tried to find that killer after the incident in summer. I know Dorian told you.

NATHAN: You don’t know me! Only Jacob and John do.

ROB: I want to help you, Nathan. I know you better then Jacob and John do. Trust me on that.

NATHAN: Why do you try so hard to help me?

ROB: You’ve always been like a little brother to me, Nate. Besides, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.

NATHAN: What do you mean?

ROB: I know it was you who tipped off the cops in summer when I got those scars. You or Daniel, of course.

[enter Dorian]

DORIAN: Hello, Nathaniel! Rob, I found more interesting things, but we might need Daniel to confirm.

ROB: Nate, look bro’. I’m sorry for keeping this from you, but I think now is the time to know the truth. You are so consumed by your investigation because that killer is the one who murdered Jacob in summer. The thought that Jake was dead hit us both very hard. I wanted to find the one responsible. I wished to end his life. I failed in doing so. I only lived to consider what I’ve done, because of you. The death of Jacob nearly lead me to death as well. But you, it sent your mind along a path leading to self-destruction. I saw this happening, that’s why I bought all that medication for you. However, this death and losing Jacob was simply too much for your brain to handle.

NATHAN: Jacob is not dead! Such nonsense you speak.

[when it is written “NATHAN [Daniel]”, it means that the actor must modify his voice to make it sound more unnatural and frightening]

NATHAN [Daniel]: Is that so? Don’t you see that’s why people never seem to acknowledge Jake’s presence? He is dead!

NATHAN: He can’t be! I see him, I talk to him and I touch him every day.

NATHAN [Daniel]: It is just your imagination! You have schizophrenia.

NATHAN: No, I obviously have dissociative identity disorder.

NATHAN [Daniel]: Or maybe both. Just think about it. The policeman only spoke to you and didn’t listen to Jacob because he was only in your head. Remember shopping for presents, remember when you got to the New Year’s party. Just remember how everyone looked at you. They didn’t say anything because Rob told them not to.

NATHAN: Naught of what thou speak be true! Rob, tell me he is lying.

ROB: It’s no lie. I wanted to protect you, Nate! I thought that given time, you would recover.

NATHAN [impulsive]: That really did work out, ha? Animal!

NATHAN [Daniel]: How foolish you are. He gave us the possibility to avenge Jake! Remember the oath?

NATHAN: No! This is not happening!

NATHAN [Daniel]: Good-bye, Nathaniel!

ROB: What have I done?

NATHAN [Daniel]: Only what you have thought was best for us. I shall always be grateful for that.

DORIAN: Daniel boy, I might need your help on some details.

NATHAN [Daniel]: Let us see them then.

DORIAN: There was another incident last night. I know it was you again, Daniel.

NATHAN [Daniel]: Got any proof to go along with that?

DORIAN: If I had, so would the police. It seems they are taking great interest in those parts of the city these days. I have my own connections and Rob is known to be resourceful. When the last stab-crime happened, there was someone with the killer. It looks like last night you paid that guy a little visit. Now he is in the hospital, barely breathing. In other incidents that are starting to take place there, simple passers-by are victims. Each of the victims were people that no one from the hoods knew of. Daniel, the gangs are on a lookout and eventually they will find you. If they don’t, the police surely will. You’ve just made your game harder.

NATHAN [Daniel]: Yes, I believe you’re right, dear Dorian.

DORIAN: What are you going to do? You need to end the game right now.

NATHAN [Daniel]: There now game… end own gang will! Believe change kill crime… does seen police all break!

ROB: Wait here! I’ll go get his medication.

DORIAN: Alright. Be quick.

[exit Rob]

DORIAN: So many things happened to you in just one year. How much you’ve changed. The things you did…

NATHAN [Daniel]: The things I’ll do!

[Nathan throws a chair at Dorian, gets up, pushes him and runs out of the house]

[enter Rob]

ROB: My god, Dorian! He’ll do it!

DORIAN: Undoubtedly… poor soul!

ROB: So you still wish to lose contact with reality?

Scene 4

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds]

NARRATOR: I thought very much about what Dorian said to Daniel. I had indeed changed profoundly in one year. I found the love of my life, the one girl who understood me, who cared about me, who loved me. How horrible I’ve been to her. Will she ever forget me? A river of tears so savage raced from her sorrowful eyes and down those little hand she held to cover her face. I still hear her cry. This scene plays itself in my mind every night, every time I sleep. It dreads me, the cruelty in my eyes and the raging hate in my voice when I told her she doesn’t exist for me anymore if she doesn’t want to accept my friends. What friends? I was so childish, so stupid and the friend I was referring to was so only in my head. Rob told her at one point about my condition. She didn’t care. She loved me. She tried hard to help me. The things she did for me. I can’t think anymore about her sacrifices, nor about this. Pain stabs me, tears flood my view and my face. Screams escape all over the room. Luckily, I am alone.

Scene 5

[enter Narrator/Nathaniel Todds]

NARRATOR: There isn’t much darkness left in the interrogation room. I have just eaten my meal. I’m waiting for this strange detective to return. I still have to know more things and he can help me. Why does he want so much to understand how I felt and what I thought of throughout this whole period? Does he study psychology or is there more to it? I am sitting in my chair. The door opens and he comes in.

[enter Detective]

DETECTIVE: Daniel Todds killed that man. I’ve made this case special. They will learn about the seriousness of your disorder and put you in a hospital, where you will undergo special treatment. Rob saw to it that you’ll go to a very good hospital. You are expected to recover soon and then you may resume your life.

NATHAN: Thank you, sir! Thank you for believing me and for caring so much about this case.

DETECTIVE: Mr. Todds, you are most welcome. I bet you are wondering why I took this case so seriously. To be honest with you, I could have just sent you to prison, because you’ve been in a much better shape after that killer was killed. Daniel left you alone because he had reached his purpose, so to say, and Jacob seems to visit you much less then he used to, right? It would have been very simple to finish this case quick, but I have my own experience in life. Small things which you might wish to omit can lead you to great rewards. I’ve learnt much just by talking to you, Mr. Todds. Very much indeed. There were many blank points in some of my other cases and you helped me fill them. I became a detective mostly because of my burning desire to know more. I wanted to find out as many things as possible. I want to have a better understanding of the human nature. Such as you, I always sought many exquisite things in life. They are the only things that can make me feel a whole. So many I could tell you. We must meet after you recover, Mr. Todds.

NATHAN: I think we must, yes. I see that you want to understand the criminal just as much as you seek to understand the criminal mind. It seems interesting to me that all of the crimes committed by the man I killed shared something distinctive. Did you find out why that was so?

DETECTIVE: Carl Emerson, the one you killed was yet another victim of our human desire to breach reality and to exaggerate in doing so. His girlfriend, the one he was supposed to marry one day, was raped brutally many times in some abandoned warehouse. She was driven insane by the rapist. When Carl saw what happened to her he tried to help, but failed in doing so, for her brain and soul were too deeply wounded. She committed suicide. All of this was too much for Carl, a medic and a very good one at it, nevertheless. He stopped caring about his patients. They died and finally he lost his job. He attempted a murder on the rapist, while this one was in prison. Emerson couldn’t find anything to live for in this sick reality, lest the desire to wait until the rapist was freed and to torture him in manners inhumane. He turned to horrid drugs. He was more high then awake. He saw the face of the rapist on any man sharing his characteristics, Jacob included. Blood calls for blood, revenge for revenge. If this circle were allowed to continue, the world would become hell.

NATHAN: How did you find out all these?

DETECTIVE: I am quite resourceful, Mr. Todds. I must say, though, that you helped me very much in getting all these together. Thus, I resolved many big dead-end cases just by looking into two small ones. Isn’t it all worth it? You need to know how to value every seemingly small thing you come across. They might always conceal vast treasure. Keep that one in mind.

NATHAN: It seems that we truly must meet. Other then this passion you have for knowledge, why did you help me?

DETECTIVE: It’s remarkable how you sense that there is always a more personal reason for anything. Let’s just say you remind me of someone I knew. Oh, speaking of which, I have this letter for you.

NARRATOR: I took the letter. My heart nearly stopped when I read who it was from. It was April. A tear broke free and began winding down my cheek. I closed my eyes.

You've got... nothing! To Breach Reality is following up in a moment

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 06:47:00 +0000

A great Theatre Play for you to read in maximum 1 hour, 4 acts of interesting story. All the readers that went through the play until now were very pleased with the work and with the surprising ideea, in the end.

You won't know at first what it's all about, so keep reading and you might just figure out. Life is a puzzle, my friends.

You've Got 1 Day

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 06:45:00 +0000

You've Got 2 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Florin Muresan) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 12:44:00 +0000