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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMFQnY5cSp7ImA9WhVTFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729</id><updated>2012-03-02T13:23:33.829+02:00</updated><title>piticescu</title><subtitle type="html">shadows in a mirror... tell me i'm wrong!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>343</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/ivicQ" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/ivicq" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IGSXg-fSp7ImA9WhVTFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-2631790538372328815</id><published>2012-03-02T02:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-03-02T02:52:08.655+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-02T02:52:08.655+02:00</app:edited><title>vine primavara aia sau...?!</title><content type="html">vine cu garone si barfe feminine la gara de nord. vine cu caluti de mare, cheite, lacatele, floricele pe campii si multele martisoare... vine? vine cu tudor gheorghe. si cu o saptamana ciudata. eu cred ca 2012 e sfarsitul. nu stiu al cui, dar cred ca reprezinta un sfarsit, ma bucura finalurile pentru ca anticipeaza inceputuri. iar alea chiar sunt misto :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
vine primavara aia odata?!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
pana atunci, sa curga cu bucurii la voi, femeile blogosferice, grupul de fane cititoare, prietene, pui, pisoi, blonde, brune si roscate. sa urez si barbatii moldoveni, ca la ei se merge cu martisor: deci sa va fie beton ce vreti voi! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-2631790538372328815?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/Yz6lLukQFKY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/2631790538372328815/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=2631790538372328815&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2631790538372328815?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2631790538372328815?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/Yz6lLukQFKY/vine-primavara-aia-sau.html" title="vine primavara aia sau...?!" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/03/vine-primavara-aia-sau.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AMR3Y9fyp7ImA9WhVTE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-4711788350053409697</id><published>2012-02-27T05:03:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-27T05:03:06.867+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-27T05:03:06.867+02:00</app:edited><title>panica</title><content type="html">eu-copil-fragil. nu ma atingeti cu gesturi bruste si taioase ca incep sa plang. eram aproape de prapastie si daca nu era ea, cadeam intr-un hau. o gaura neagra, ca in tabloul meu, in care nu ma mai vedeti, sau nu mai mai recunoasteti - e tot una. din care se aud poate suspine si ecourile unei dureri de neinteles.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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credeam ca n-o sa mai ajung niciodata nici macar aproape de starile alea de panica teribila. sunt totusi undeva adanc ingropate, isi cer primavara si ele, sa infloreasca uneori. scot coltii si ma zgarie pe retina. se naste in mine un dor de lucruri si oameni care nu exista Acum. doare foarte adanc cand ma doare ceva. sufletul. si nefiinta.&lt;br /&gt;
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no comment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-4711788350053409697?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/78hdYh8vXHo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/4711788350053409697/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=4711788350053409697&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4711788350053409697?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4711788350053409697?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/78hdYh8vXHo/panica.html" title="panica" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/panica.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEARHY9eCp7ImA9WhVTEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-555618152946136745</id><published>2012-02-23T17:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-23T17:24:05.860+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-23T17:24:05.860+02:00</app:edited><title>world wide wasteland</title><content type="html">am facut ordine pe balcon. balconul meu era un fel de www.google.ro. de la carti despre cum sa ingrijesti planta taiata, pana la scule de care nu gasesti la nici un bricostore, jurnale ale mamei pentru mine - de cand m-am nascut pana spre anii 2000, jurnalul de la bunica pentru tata de cand s-a nascut el, afise cu spectacole pe care tata semneaza regia artistica, colectii de ziare din anii 90, colectii de vederi, ghiduri turistice, ate, materiale, sute de carti, bibelouri, discuri, acareturi, mobilier. toate intr-un balcon. toate scriu cumva o istorie pe care eu am trait-o foarte putin, mai mult am vazut-o si am ascultat-o prin cunoscuti si parinti. toate contureaza deja 2 generatii inaintea mea, de la stilul de viata al vremii pana la firea oamenilor care au detinut si creat toate astea. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
am stat 3 zile in balcon si am calatorit in vremurile lor. blogul mamei era un fel de carnetel pe care isi scria caligrafic toate dramele si bucuriile. gadget-urile lui tata erau aparate de vizionat diapozitive, un patefon, un magnetofon, un video si altele. stick-urile lor erau caiete pe care transcriau de la prospecte de medicamente, pana la carti intregi. o lume fantastica. pe care 3 sferturi am aruncat-o la gunoi, pastrand amintirile si esenta vremurilor in sufletul meu. pana la urma avem nevoie de putin ca sa traim, dar suntem cumva legati de tot ce inseamna trecut...&lt;br /&gt;
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am luat la purtare o pereche de manusi negre, din piele intoarsa, de la bunica mea fost-ambasador...erau noi. cred ca au o suta de ani...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-555618152946136745?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/VRDjR-k9Ibk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/555618152946136745/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=555618152946136745&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/555618152946136745?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/555618152946136745?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/VRDjR-k9Ibk/world-wide-wasteland.html" title="world wide wasteland" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/world-wide-wasteland.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUESHk6fCp7ImA9WhRaF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-4310107417710817086</id><published>2012-02-20T23:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-20T23:10:09.714+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T23:10:09.714+02:00</app:edited><title>you made my day!</title><content type="html">ieri... cu un piure de castane, cu vanilie care miroase a rom (ciudat, nu?)... mi-ai facut ziua sa sclipeasca. am fost maxim fericita si am adormit abia spre dimineata lipaind borcanul si mulumind in gand la fiecare lingurita. bineinteles ca mai vreau. provizii sa fie, pentru tot anul! piureul de castane e cel mai bun!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
astazi...o cafea prelungita m-a umplut de drag si oftaturi lungi.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
uneori ma intreb daca nu e mai bine sa ne pastram utopiile, fanteziile, fara dorinta nebuna (ego?) de a le implini. in felul asta sunt eterne cumva, si nu le strica nimeni si nimic perfectiunea. &lt;br /&gt;
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habar n-ai cat de bine m-am simtit in bratele tale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-4310107417710817086?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/Mz9hQj-8cTY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/4310107417710817086/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=4310107417710817086&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4310107417710817086?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4310107417710817086?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/Mz9hQj-8cTY/you-made-my-day.html" title="you made my day!" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/you-made-my-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUGSHw4eip7ImA9WhRaFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-4850132094841413786</id><published>2012-02-19T22:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-19T22:27:09.232+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-19T22:27:09.232+02:00</app:edited><title>dancing queen</title><content type="html">Mica mea danseaza pana la epuizare. si apoi mergem cu 85ul acasa la 5 dimineata. nu m-am simtit atat de bine demult. mi-am lasat tot stresul in club si am dansat pana ne-am intepenit amandoua. cum sa ajungi acasa cu dureri la degetele de la picioare si fara sa mai poti intoarce capul intr-o parte?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ma uitam la tine cum ti se urca muzica la cap si treci de la o stare la alta progresiv... cum ti se dezmorteste fiinta cu fiecare melodie si te avanti in ritmuri de parca inoti intr-o mare de sunete si simtiri. esti tare frumoasa cand dansezi! sunt fericita cand te simt asa! imi venea sa plang de bucurie aseara... pana la urma momentele astea, zambetele si personajele din viata mea care imi ofera lucruri marunte, sunt cea mai de pret comoara pe care o am.&lt;br /&gt;
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am fost destul de stresata ultimele zile. cand am incetat sa ma mai complic, lucrurile au inceput sa se aseze de la sinea lor. imi venea sa trimit un mesaj cu "te iubesc in sinea mea, in felul meu",dar sunt convinsa ca pana la urma mesajul asta a ajuns in sinea lui :)&lt;br /&gt;
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ce tare mi se pare uneori sa te joci cu sensurile cuvintelor. e ca si cum ai combina culorile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-4850132094841413786?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/_wpsWTXk2wI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/4850132094841413786/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=4850132094841413786&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4850132094841413786?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/4850132094841413786?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/_wpsWTXk2wI/dancing-queen.html" title="dancing queen" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/dancing-queen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUDSH47eCp7ImA9WhRaE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-7771028121322416422</id><published>2012-02-16T00:13:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-16T00:17:59.000+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-16T00:17:59.000+02:00</app:edited><title>cautari ce au dus aici :)</title><content type="html">de cand am pus pe blogul asta si paginile &lt;a href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/p/iubiri-imprastiate_04.html" target="_blank"&gt;Iubirilor Imprastiate&lt;/a&gt; si &lt;a href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/p/fantasia.html" target="_blank"&gt;Fantasia&lt;/a&gt;, se pare ca populatia a ajuns la mine in ograda si cu alte scopuri decat pana acum. de la intrebari meta-spirito-trans, pana la treburi serioase si kinkoase, piticescu e raspunsul multor dileme.&lt;br /&gt;
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sunt totusi suprinsa (placut?) ca la cam 1000 de vizualizari, aproape 900 cauta fix "piticescu", deci stiu ce vor si unde vor sa ajunga. ne cunoastem cumva sau pur si simplu in spatiul asta virtual se creaza atasamente. cu toate astea, scriu pentru mine, nu pentru voi si daca reusiti sa luati de aici cate ceva, sa fie primit, punct si de la capat. &lt;br /&gt;
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minoritatea care insa se impiedica de Piticescu din greseala, cauta de fapt...&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;i&gt;da ce e pitic si in realitate? &lt;/i&gt;- 1.65 e ok? pitici exista for real, nu sunt doar personaje de basm. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;dorinta imi arde maruntaiele, tasneste precum lava fierbinte&lt;/i&gt; - trebuie sa faci ceva in privinta asta! sa nu te arzi de tot.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;i-a mangaiat gatul&lt;/i&gt; - sper ca nu doar atat si mai sper ca nu incerca un streang sau ceva de genul...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;ma leaga strans dupa ce-mi scalda neuronii in aburii unui alcool&lt;/i&gt; - sa aduca si ligheanul aproape in caz de ceva, ca sa fie profi omul, si trusa de prim ajutor. toate astea puse la indemana, cred ca e in regula sa faca ce vrea din tine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;cand prietenul meu se atinge de bazinul meu tremura de placere pacat ca suntem imbracati - &lt;/i&gt;acuma depinde unde era virgula. eu zic sa incepeti cu dezbracatul ca sa tremurati cat vreti mai apoi.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ce inseamna autosuficienta - &lt;/i&gt;aveam o postare despre asta, nu stiu daca te-ai lamurit, eu inca mai lucrez.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;de ce cand transez carne ma ustura pielea mainii la carne - &lt;/i&gt;n-am&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;transat niciodata carne pana la carne :)) aici piticii nu sunt violenti... neconsensual. si oricum, nu lasa urme. ne place de noi intregi.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ma tineai de cap si ma penetrai&lt;/i&gt; - mintea mea e deja in cateva pozitii suspecte. daca tot asta a cautat si pe-aia cu &lt;i&gt;da ce e pitic si in realitate? &lt;/i&gt;atunci... sa se adreseze unor organe specializate...&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;mi-am despletit privirile pe mare - &lt;/i&gt;asa da! Piticlandia este o mare, dar mai bine e la marea aia adevarata. &lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;a lua ca atare lucrurile - &lt;/i&gt;metafizic dom'le, nu poci pentru ca sa-ti explic. tre' sa mai cresc un pic.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;batranul si marea&lt;/i&gt; - batranul a murit intre timp, marea e tot acolo. pana imbatranim cu totii. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;cuceriri &lt;/i&gt;- make love, not war, nimeni nu cucereste pe nimeni si toti au de castigat. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-7771028121322416422?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/aZxGkS2Ryu4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/7771028121322416422/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=7771028121322416422&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7771028121322416422?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7771028121322416422?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/aZxGkS2Ryu4/cautari-ce-au-dus-aici.html" title="cautari ce au dus aici :)" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/cautari-ce-au-dus-aici.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QNQ385fip7ImA9WhRbGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-2817640080038553047</id><published>2012-02-11T20:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T20:36:32.126+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-11T20:36:32.126+02:00</app:edited><title>niste muzica, pe niste versuri.</title><content type="html">&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pIYvKCfqGB4" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CJDAmXHHfuM" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
true.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-2817640080038553047?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/-RXVDZURINk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/2817640080038553047/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=2817640080038553047&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2817640080038553047?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2817640080038553047?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/-RXVDZURINk/niste-muzica-pe-niste-versuri.html" title="niste muzica, pe niste versuri." /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/pIYvKCfqGB4/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/niste-muzica-pe-niste-versuri.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIGQHk4fip7ImA9WhRbGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5393804692489426036</id><published>2012-02-11T14:30:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T14:32:01.736+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-11T14:32:01.736+02:00</app:edited><title>tx for your heart</title><content type="html">e frumos cand adormi invelit de bataile inimii celuilalt. in afara de valuri, cred ca e cel mai minunat ritm pe care pot adormi. imi batea inima ta in spate azinoapte... si mi-a fost liniste si pace. mai mult decat ma asteptam. am primit si acel "va fi bine" si cateva imbratisari... ma inunda stari de frumos cand lucrurile curg un pic in mine la modul asta. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
in zbuciumul perioadei prin care trec gasesc puterea sa ma bucur ca esti fericit, ca iti lumineaza ochii si-ti sunt buzele crapate de un bine care ti se petrece in afara Noastra. e minunat sa poti iubi pur si simplu si ideea ca celalalt e fericit - chiar daca nu cu tine, sa-ti fie suficienta, sa fie mai intensa decat orice nevoie, sentiment de posesivitate, gelozii sau altele.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
e fantastic cum te poate umple un sentiment (de drag, de dor, de orice fel) dincolo de subiectul asupra caruia e proiectat. pana la urma toate vin din noi si tot acolo se intorc. nimeni si nimic nu poate altera ce e real si pur inauntru. restul e can can.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
azinoapte am avut doua inimi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5393804692489426036?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/L8arThoMlL0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5393804692489426036/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5393804692489426036&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5393804692489426036?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5393804692489426036?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/L8arThoMlL0/tx-for-your-heart.html" title="tx for your heart" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/tx-for-your-heart.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMAQH49cSp7ImA9WhRbF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-9138923636859413428</id><published>2012-02-09T13:52:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-09T13:54:01.069+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-09T13:54:01.069+02:00</app:edited><title>caut casa</title><content type="html">ca intotdeauna mi se petrec lucruri aparent paradoxale, fara iesire, fara intrare, doar cuprins si ala zbuciumat. caut o casa, la niste bani cu care nu cumperi nici o curte. trebuie sa o gasesc pana la sfarsitul lunii, altfel e bai. si sa fie aproape de mine si de mama. si sa fie spatioasa, si decenta. si luminoasa. si in toate felurile. umblu prin nameti de o saptamana sa vad toate petardele de mansarde si demisoluri si garsoniere de nu incape un pat de doo persoane in camera si ma minunez de toate cate mi se petrec.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
un agent ma ia peste picior, altul imi zice ca daca am picat pe gheata anul asta ma marit. mama se bucura ca ma implic, eu turbez ca ea nu se implica. vreau seara acasa sa fie ordine si disciplina, am tot felul de porniri si mi-as dori sa roiti toti prin jurul meu cu dulce si frumos ca sa ies din starea asta.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
oamenii nu stiu ce vor, si cand afla in sfarsit, e prea tarziu sau nu au resurse, oamenii sunt nehotarati si m-am saturat de initiativele mele si de asteptarile lor. am si eu asteptari si nu cer mult. uite ieri, m-am bucurat infinit de un telefon din care o voce mi-a zis asa: &lt;i&gt;ce zici, vin, te iau, si mergem acolo. in 20 de min.&lt;/i&gt; ... pai am ajuns sa ma bucur cand cineva e ferm si vrea o banalitate, la care eu nu am apucat sa ma gandesc si sa o doresc, cand ma surprinde atat de natural si cand imi lasa si mie impulsurile sa hiberneze. sunt pro-pasiva.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-9138923636859413428?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/pHl-1amJbI8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/9138923636859413428/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=9138923636859413428&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9138923636859413428?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9138923636859413428?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/pHl-1amJbI8/caut-casa.html" title="caut casa" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/caut-casa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8BQX86cSp7ImA9WhRbFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5710284866164980908</id><published>2012-02-06T04:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T04:04:10.119+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T04:04:10.119+02:00</app:edited><title>existi undeva</title><content type="html">undeva existi tu... fiinta aceea care sa ma topeasca efervescent ca un aspirinPlus intr-un pahar cu apa plata. doar ca... deocamdata te caut si te compun din mii de clipe si niciodata puzzle-ul nu e total.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
am primit un telefon zilele trecute la 00.00 sa-mi spui ca pur si simplu ti-e dor de mine, si atat. te-am pierdut undeva intr-un asternut verde azinoapte si dimineata mi-ai adus cafeaua la pat. mi-ai destainuit apoi lucruri despre tine, intimitati pe care nu cu mine le-ai trait si nu stiu de unde le stiam deja... ti-am gustat zambetul ascuns intr-un ceai si mana care ma prindea in somn, de parca n-am putea dormi fara sa fim legati intr-o atingere. gatim impreuna, construim lucruri, vorbim vorbe sau doar ne ducem tacerile unul altuia. ma incearca doruri nebune si nevoi acute. iubesc si te simt de parca esti in palma mea. toate se intampla si in toate ma bucur.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
si totusi. sunt clipe insiruite intr-un singur paragraf... nu intr-un singur personaj. uneori mi-e greu sa iau de la fiecare si sa fac un tot. as vrea totul... si m-as descurca eu sa-l descompun in fraze...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5710284866164980908?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/aSl5MJAWznY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5710284866164980908/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5710284866164980908&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5710284866164980908?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5710284866164980908?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/aSl5MJAWznY/existi-undeva.html" title="existi undeva" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/existi-undeva.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QER3o5fyp7ImA9WhRbEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-3450176055111387630</id><published>2012-02-02T18:28:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-02-02T18:48:26.427+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-02T18:48:26.427+02:00</app:edited><title>intr-o zi</title><content type="html">...o sa dispar. fara nici o explicatie... am mai facut-o si ce libera si bine m-am simtit! mi-e dor de starea aceea de eliberare, simt ca in curand ma voi detasa cumplit de toate si le voi aranja pe categorii si culori in sertarase inchise cu lacate mari. presimt ca nici nu vei realiza cat de putin vor mai conta atunci toate... cum vor pica in derizoriu orele si gandurile, si tu, si voi, odata cu ele.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
cand eram mica faceam castele din lego. adevarate inginerii. munceam cu zilele la o constructie si pe masura ce se inalta o consideram proiectul vietii mele. pana la un punct. cam pe la jumatatea procesului, realizam cata bucurie si eliberare ma va inunda cand voi strica totul, brusc si fara regrete. si ce minunat va fi sa respir aerul curat al inceputului. cu toate astea, niciodata nu abandonam constructia la jumatate. realizam ciclul complet al creatiei si distrugerii. ei bine, cam asa mi se intampla si cu tine.&lt;br /&gt;
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cresc si cresti in mine minunatii. ma voi abandona in asta, pana la un moment dat cand voi abandona totul intr-o secunda. intr-o clipire. atunci cand nu va mai conta nici bucuria pasilor facuti spre infinit, nici durerea pierderii.&lt;br /&gt;
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deocamdata stagnez. ma mai gandesc daca pun flori la geam.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-3450176055111387630?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/1bl08wign5k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/3450176055111387630/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=3450176055111387630&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/3450176055111387630?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/3450176055111387630?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/1bl08wign5k/intr-o-zi.html" title="intr-o zi" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/02/intr-o-zi.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQGR3Y_eyp7ImA9WhRbEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-8384025004044175698</id><published>2012-01-31T15:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T15:25:26.843+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-31T15:25:26.843+02:00</app:edited><title>pe val!</title><content type="html">mi-e atat de dor de mare incat imi caut valuri pe youtube, inchid ochii si ma imaginez la tarm cum imi mangaie picioarele un val jucaus, umed, imbibat de briza sarata. vad cum ma gadil in talpi cu nisipul fierbinte si simt in plamani mirosul acela de mare la apus. &lt;br /&gt;
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mi-e dor de mare si de un noi doi imbratisati. de-o scoica cu care fac desene pe pielea uscata de soare si de senzatia aceea de arsura dintre omoplatii inrositi. mi-e dor de gustul apei plate de pe plaja si de melancoliile de la malul marii mele.&lt;br /&gt;
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ieri am adormit pe valuri. poate singurul zgomot pe care reusesc sa adorm... si-mi doream sa fii cu mine, sa-mi iei talpile in brate, sa le transpir in tine pana curg din noi licori de tot felul. ieri am reusit sa inspir o senzatie de "o sa fie bine" si sa expir un "multumesc" care m-au usurat.&lt;br /&gt;
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a mai trecut o luna de iarna, in sfarsit! astept ca un copil primele fire de verde, primii muguri cociti sub atata raceala de pana acum. astept petale colorate si izul de zambile lila sa-mi improspeteze gandurile si starile. astept sa treaca iarna, nu pot fi productiva, proactiva, pro...nimic. simt ca-mi hiberneaza emotiile, intentiile, imi adorm porii si nu vreau decat sa treaca totul mai repede.&lt;br /&gt;
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hugs and kisses din... scorbura mea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-8384025004044175698?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/AgPtU4dsCwQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/8384025004044175698/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=8384025004044175698&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/8384025004044175698?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/8384025004044175698?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/AgPtU4dsCwQ/pe-val.html" title="pe val!" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/pe-val.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAARX85fSp7ImA9WhRVGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-9102931476326342165</id><published>2012-01-18T23:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T23:55:44.125+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T23:55:44.125+02:00</app:edited><title /><content type="html">tata, uneori mi-e dor de tine. uneori simt ca m-ai lasat pe aici sa fac si in locul tau lucruri si ma intreb daca mi-ai dat si puteri supraomenesti sa implinesc acest plan. uneori nu mai pot, as vrea sa se opreasca toate. sa fii aici si sa fie bine... atat.&lt;br /&gt;
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mi-e dor sa ma tii in brate pur si simplu. sa ma simt iubita, adorata, sa nu traiesc doar clipa, sa ma topesc undeva intr-o minima impresie de eternitate, de certitudine, de siguranta. mi-e dor de o constanta in viata mea. mi-e dor sa ma simt libera intr-un Noi, nu libera de orice, oricum. si de fapt nu mi-e dor... e o nevoie venita din adancuri care ma dezintegreaza incet. e ca si cum n-am luat un medicament vital de mult timp.&lt;br /&gt;
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imi doresc sa vina cineva sa-mi zica ca o sa fie toate bine. sa-mi las framantarea si sufletul zdrente in palmele cuiva. sa nu ma mai simt singura in toate. vreau sa ma lamentez. si sa stiu ca ma pot prabusi pe genunchii cuiva. &lt;br /&gt;
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azi nu sunt bine. azi am dormit multe ore doar ca sa nu stau treaza intr-un inceput de depresie. azi nu esti aici si nici eu nu mai sunt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-9102931476326342165?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/OZrpQyGnuTo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/9102931476326342165/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=9102931476326342165&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9102931476326342165?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9102931476326342165?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/OZrpQyGnuTo/tata-uneori-mi-e-dor-de-tine.html" title="" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/tata-uneori-mi-e-dor-de-tine.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YCSX44fCp7ImA9WhRVE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-710821223988057759</id><published>2012-01-12T03:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T03:19:28.034+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-12T03:19:28.034+02:00</app:edited><title>PS: i love you.</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;- boyfriend, ceva?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;- ma simt libera...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;- asta imi spui de 2 ani incoace...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;- pentru ca asa ma simt.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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martini rosu si pepsi. o jucarie de piele pe care o vei purta probabil tot anul... cumva, raman la tine in buzunar si anul asta. un sarut venit parca din alta lume, aproape intr-o doara oferit, fugitiv de parca ne grabeam undeva... si totusi gustul buzelor tale il regasesc mereu asa cum l-am lasat cu luni in urma. ma imbata pe termen lung... crapaturile din buza ta mi le-au umplut pe ale mele intr-o contopire ce-a creat un microunivers. un sarut din care a tasnit infinitul. &lt;br /&gt;
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a cata oara am alergat spre tine si am ajuns incinsa de doruri in fata ta... unde dupa un secol inca imi tremura mainile cand aprind prima tigara? a cata oara constat ca trece timpul prin noi, pe langa noi, dar ramanem cumva agatati in acel Ceva de nedescris care ne aduce impreuna - orice ar mai insemna asta acum.&lt;br /&gt;
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implineam 22 de ani cu tine. iar tu erai la a doua adolescenta. in curand ni se implineste cincinalul. vezi cat de departe am ajuns? si inca... nu s-a terminat :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-710821223988057759?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/OlZY1d_Vlic" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/710821223988057759/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=710821223988057759&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/710821223988057759?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/710821223988057759?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/OlZY1d_Vlic/ps-i-love-you.html" title="PS: i love you." /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/ps-i-love-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYCSXY_fip7ImA9WhRVEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-9190151878793019746</id><published>2012-01-11T15:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:06:08.846+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-11T15:06:08.846+02:00</app:edited><title>Dor</title><content type="html">Dor? astazi imi aduc aminte de tine si mi-e dor de locurile noastre unde ne plimbam sarutarile... astazi te vreau ca in prima zi cand am realizat ca te iubesc si ca nu mai am cale de intors in Infinitul asta creat impreuna.&lt;br /&gt;
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astazi.... imi doresc pentru tine sa fii fericit, orice ar insemna asta, cu oricine... numai sa ma lasi sa te privesc in ochi din cand in cand la o cafea, ca intre doi oameni care s-au cunoscut candva demult. astazi te iubesc altfel... atat de adanc si de cuminte incat e insesizabil... dorul meu e un fulg, o frunza in zbor, o adiere, un fir de nisip...&lt;br /&gt;
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astazi... e o zi ca oricare alta, dar eu nu voi uita niciodata... ma uit in sertarasul unde te pastrez si iti zambesc.&lt;br /&gt;
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dor de tine, dor de noi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-9190151878793019746?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/wi0FBd6tzd8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/9190151878793019746/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=9190151878793019746&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9190151878793019746?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9190151878793019746?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/wi0FBd6tzd8/dor.html" title="Dor" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/dor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8CQHc7fyp7ImA9WhRVEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-55840053369334455</id><published>2012-01-09T03:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T03:01:01.907+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T03:01:01.907+02:00</app:edited><title>exprimari</title><content type="html">uneori am impresia ca pot sa scriu ceea ce nu pot verbaliza celuilalt... si ma trezesc in fata albului ce se asteapta umplut si nu ies literele... nu se aseaza in cuvinte, in ganduri, in nimic.&amp;nbsp; ma simt neputincioasa si orice mijloc de exprimare imi adanceste si mai mult golul.&lt;br /&gt;
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uneori am impresia ca pot spune exact ceea ce simt si gandesc, nu reusesc... cuvintele nu ma ajuta. poate doar lacrimile... sau zambetele false...&lt;br /&gt;
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uneori imi vine sa inchid ochii si cu o clipire sa resetez toata realitatea, sa dau timpul inapoi de unde s-a stricat, sa ma fac nevazuta sau sa dispara altii...&lt;br /&gt;
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am uitat sa cer, sa rog, sa primesc. am uitat cum e... sa spun, sa ma pun pe primul loc, sa pretind. uneori uit cum sunt eu, sa fiu eu. si cand imi aduc aminte... sunt blocata. in neputinta.&lt;br /&gt;
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nu mai stiu sa fac cea mai simpla ecuatie din lume.... unu plus unu fac doi... sau unu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-55840053369334455?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/mmQLRa5o-qQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/55840053369334455/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=55840053369334455&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/55840053369334455?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/55840053369334455?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/mmQLRa5o-qQ/exprimari.html" title="exprimari" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/exprimari.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04CSHc6eyp7ImA9WhRVEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5748417866464792300</id><published>2012-01-05T23:57:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T02:46:09.913+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T02:46:09.913+02:00</app:edited><title>true love</title><content type="html">paradox: cand iubesti ceva interzis, fara sorti de implinire totala pe lumea asta... iubirea aceea se transforma in ceva dincolo de tot ce este omenesc. devine puternica, in timp si spatiu, iti acapareaza sufletul si mintea si nimic nu se compara cu ea. e posibil ca Utopia, Visul, Dorinta si Nevoia neimplinite, dragostea netraita complet... sa depaseasca in intensitate tot ce poate fi real, aici, intamplat deja?&lt;br /&gt;
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cand un sentiment este imposibil de implinit, nu e reciproc sau se balaceste in interzisuri, devine puternic, parca vrand sa sparga barierele de orice fel. te trezesti ca spui cuvinte mari si asezi in rame groase iubirea: &lt;i&gt;te voi iubi mereu, nu te voi uita niciodata, ramai in sufletul meu indiferent de orice, te astept o viata si dincolo de ea&lt;/i&gt;... sunt lucruri pe care eu le-am spus si le-am simtit si nu mi-am luat cuvintele inapoi niciodata de atunci. &lt;b&gt;cumva iubirile posibile nu prezinta interes&lt;/b&gt;... cele imposibile raman undeva atarnate... raman in zbor si te insotesc toata viata. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
iubirile posibile se si consuma rapid. ma indragostesc, e frumos o perioada, totul pare posibil, se intampla posibilul, cuprinsul, finalul vine oarecum firesc si parca a fost doar un alt episod dintr-un serial oricum previzibil. insa cand dragostea se impiedica de cioturi ne-intelese, de situatii fara iesire, cand te desparti de un om desi il iubesti, cand va despart altele care nu tin de voi doi... atunci durerea te tine in viata, iti devine viata. imposibilitatea de a fi cu celalalt de fapt va tine mai legati ca niciodata, mai legati ca oricine. chinul in iubire e secretul longevitatii. :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
poate gresesc. dar nu gresesc cand constat ca in Pitic-landia mea lucrurile au stat intotdeauna asa. intotdeauna m-au atras relatiile si situatiile imposibile, ciudate. m-am hranit o perioada din impresia ca lucrurile merg frumos inainte, pana cand toate au inceput sa se destrame. destramarea asta a fost o perioada in sine de haos si plutire. apoi, resemnarea ca... lucrurile oricum nu ar fi fost sa fie si nu aveau cum sa mearga... dar satisfactia ca am incercat si am pacalit vesnicia un pic... resemnarea asta inseamna acceptarea ca iubirea aceea devine vesnica, tocmai prin imposibilitatea implinirii ei. devine vesnica in mine, in momentul in care realizez ca nu-i posibila. si da... o port cu mine toata viata.&lt;br /&gt;
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asa iubesc eu lucruri si oameni care nu mai sunt. care habar n-au ca sunt iubiti orbeste, dincolo de tot ceea ce este uman, ca pot muri in secunda doi pentru ei si ca de fapt... traiesc iubindu-i in infinit. cand spun: te iubesc, o spun pentru totdeauna, indiferent daca manifestarea iubirii ne devine imposibila la un moment dat. iubirile adevarate nu au final... nu exista finaluri fericite in dragoste. si daca s-a sfarsit inseamna ca nu a fost deloc. implinirea a ceva inseamna ca s-a terminat, inseamna ca e consumat totul - deci implinit. cercul inchis. si ce e implinit e deja la trecut. mie-mi plac eternitatile... am un cult aparte al Infinitului. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
de fiecare data cand am aruncat cu te iubescuri a fost o asumare viagera. da, si acum te iubesc, pe tine-toti cei carora le-am pus eticheta asta. pe fiecare-tine altfel. &lt;br /&gt;
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nici nu mi-am propus sa inteleaga vreun cititor ce-am vrut sa zic de fapt :) important e ca te iubesc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5748417866464792300?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/_uQ2exZcUIc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5748417866464792300/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5748417866464792300&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5748417866464792300?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5748417866464792300?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/_uQ2exZcUIc/true-love.html" title="true love" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/true-love.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4BR38yfCp7ImA9WhRWFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-2400463541223672601</id><published>2012-01-03T19:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T19:49:16.194+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T19:49:16.194+02:00</app:edited><title>cica lista 2012</title><content type="html">nu a nins inca in capitala groazei. e criza si la fulgi se pare! nu s-au petrecut toate exact asa cum mi-as fi dorit dar... cumva lucrurile s-au asezat asa incat sa nu ma enervez peste masura. au fost sarbatori cu dragoste si vis, cu iad si paradis, cu dulce si amar... asa cum imi sta mie bine, cu de toate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ma bucur cand barbatii din viata mea nu uita de mine in momente dinastea, indiferent alaturi de cine se afla acum. ma amuz ca fraza asta o sa-i atinga pe aceia carora nu le-a placut niciodata sa fie pusi in oala mare cu barbati. sunt cateva momente in an in care toate perioadele vietii mele se aduna sa-mi tina cununa, ma ureaza ca ursitoarele si isi fac simtita prezenta discret si adanc. imi place de mor treaba asta... felul in care timpurile si simtirile vin toate la un loc, in viata mea, ca sa ma bucure, sa-mi aduca aminte ca au fost, ca nu (m-)au uitat, ca viata curge. un telefon, un mesaj, un zambet sau un gest, venite din adolescenta, din facultate, de la mare departare sau de chiar langa mine... v-am iubit pe fiecare in parte ca nu ati incetat sa existati nici de data asta.&lt;br /&gt;
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de femei nu are rost sa mai povestesc, uneori e bine sa taci si sa rumegi cu privire la ele.&lt;br /&gt;
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lista pe 2012: ma las de fumat. de mancat chestii nesanatoase, si daca ma ambitionez poate ajung vegetariana - tare mi-as dori sa reusesc asta. o sa-mi termin lucrarea aia de dizertatie care zace in biblioteca si daca nu imi gasesc de lucru pana la vara, ma gandesc serios sa plec in lume sa fac voluntariat... undeva departe unde genul asta de daruire este apreciat si protejat. poate alt continent. imi doresc un concediu cu mama mea, unul cu ea si unul cu el. n-am sa mai fac nimic din ceea ce nu am chef sa fac, doar ca sa nu stric chefurile altora. o sa-mi ascult mai atent intuitiile si o sa incerc sa fac din prezent un regim politic in sine al vietii mele. sa nu mai car timpurile in spate, nici pe alte mele, nici pe ale altora. prezentul e suficient.&lt;br /&gt;
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tu trebuie doar sa ma tii de mana cand clipesc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-2400463541223672601?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/Qn74DB7v0_g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/2400463541223672601/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=2400463541223672601&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2400463541223672601?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/2400463541223672601?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/Qn74DB7v0_g/cica-lista-2012.html" title="cica lista 2012" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/cica-lista-2012.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQGQHwycSp7ImA9WhRWFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-9073508672251655777</id><published>2012-01-02T11:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T11:58:41.299+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-02T11:58:41.299+02:00</app:edited><title>a trecut</title><content type="html">a trecut si 2011, acum incepem insteria aia cu sfarsitul lumii, altul, ca au mai fost vreo cateva....&lt;br /&gt;
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cica propunere pe 2012: mi-ar placea sa ma ocup un pic mai mult de mine. sa ma iubesc mai mult.&lt;br /&gt;
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blogulet, la multi ani virtuali, intram in al 5-lea an impreuna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-9073508672251655777?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/xzo84qAOh5I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/9073508672251655777/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=9073508672251655777&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9073508672251655777?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/9073508672251655777?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/xzo84qAOh5I/trecut.html" title="a trecut" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2012/01/trecut.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIFQnY6fyp7ImA9WhRXGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-7348422886237757760</id><published>2011-12-26T01:54:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T01:51:53.817+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-27T01:51:53.817+02:00</app:edited><title>craciun</title><content type="html">clasic... ca in revistele cu nemti imbracati in pulovere pe gat, rosii eventual. in familie, cu brad si colinde... un pic prea multa traditie pentru mine... insa alaturi de Mi, rezistam aici la medias, notand AMRul in fiecare zi. ne bucuram ca suntem impreuna si ca... printre altele, ne ducem mai departe vechile obiceiuri: slagare romanesti, un gin tonic ici, o tigara colo, o barfa balcanica, un telefon la clanul de la gara de nord. doruri si dorinte... tot noi suntem, indiferent de oras.&lt;br /&gt;
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aici e zapada. am promis ca fac femeia de zapada si o voi face. ma incearca nostalgii si doruri de acasa. ma incearca intuitii puternice in ceea ce te priveste. cumva stiu tot ce faci si simti. ma enervezi.&lt;br /&gt;
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puiu, sa stii ca fac poze multe ca un chinez.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vMb-BeOuJ1M/TvkIdexCveI/AAAAAAAABao/9toop-uGynE/s1600/SAM_0094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vMb-BeOuJ1M/TvkIdexCveI/AAAAAAAABao/9toop-uGynE/s200/SAM_0094.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Craciunul e o perioada nostalgica. recunosc ca am fugit de capitala ca sa-mi inabus mini-depresiile de sezon. recunosc ca nu am reusit sa o fac in totalitate. recunosc ca mi-as fi dorit sa fie altfel unele. si mai recunosc ca ma bucur totusi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-7348422886237757760?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/LMcepvOgaeg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/7348422886237757760/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=7348422886237757760&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7348422886237757760?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7348422886237757760?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/LMcepvOgaeg/craciun.html" title="craciun" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vMb-BeOuJ1M/TvkIdexCveI/AAAAAAAABao/9toop-uGynE/s72-c/SAM_0094.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/craciun.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIBQXs8eyp7ImA9WhRXFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5097899742246181662</id><published>2011-12-23T18:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-23T18:09:10.573+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-23T18:09:10.573+02:00</app:edited><title>primiti cu porcu?</title><content type="html">din categoria "de cartier":&lt;br /&gt;
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ieri mai pe inserat, dupa ce am invitat si alte cartiere sa se alature PreCraciunului nostru de la Gara de Nord, m-am bucurat de apa calda si de caldura din calorifere si m-am pus pe gatit un porc. toate bune si frumoase, faceam acatiste pentru Radet care s-a gandit la noi de sarbatori si au indraznit sa ne faca un bine... cand.... constat cu tava plina de vin, legume si porc... ca nu e gaz in aragaz! Panica.&lt;br /&gt;
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nimic nu ne poate umbri bucuria, drept pentru care, am pus mana pe telefon la vecinii de peste drum si am inchiriat pentru o ora si ceva un cuptor. m-am plimbat cu tava plina de la un bloc la altul pana am nimerit la ingerul pazitor al porcului meu si am reusit sa-l gatesc, nu sub aerul conditionat, nu la microunde, nu pe calorifer, ci intr-o casa de om normal cu tot cu cuptor si gaze. apoi repejor inapoi, tine bine de tava ca frige, vezi sa nu curga, una tinea de caini infometati care alergau dupa mirosuri, alta cu cheile, alta cu vinul si hai inapoi prin cartier cu porcul, sa-l servim ca se aduna lumea.&lt;br /&gt;
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s-a mancat, s-a dansat, s-au impartit cadouri. clanul a fost fericit. n-am dormit, cerem scuzele de rigoare pentru cei care si azi au plecat la munca de dimineata si promitem pe viitor sa ne sincronizam si cu liberele legale. la Gara de Nord Craciunul a inceput pe 22!&lt;br /&gt;
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si cum se face ca... de fiecare data cand e vorba de cadouri un anume personaj e foarte inspirat, de parca citeste ganduri si simtiri. m-am inundat de bucurie!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"auzi, tu cate femei ai de fapt?" :) ma intreba un bun prieten. si ca sa fac aici o declaratie publica, voi raspunde: toate sunteti ale mele: Mi, Mica, O, I, R, blonda, si inca altele care nu frecventeaza cartierul atat de des. sunteti ale mele pentru ca ma faceti fericita, pentru ca in preajma mea zambiti, pentru ca va iubesc atat de diferit si de intens pe fiecare in parte, pentru ca intr-un fel sau altul va oferiti si stiti s-o faceti intr-un mod fantastic care pe mine ma hraneste in fiecare zi. Multumesc, si mai vreau!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5097899742246181662?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/f2UfcWW3j8o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5097899742246181662/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5097899742246181662&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5097899742246181662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5097899742246181662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/f2UfcWW3j8o/primiti-cu-porcu.html" title="primiti cu porcu?" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/primiti-cu-porcu.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4HRn89eyp7ImA9WhRXFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5779200338530630248</id><published>2011-12-22T14:43:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T14:45:37.163+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-22T14:45:37.163+02:00</app:edited><title>de cartier</title><content type="html">s-a creat asa deodata o gasca. la gara de nord se intampla lucruri. lucruri simple dar fantastice in esenta lor. aici timpul e altul, spatiul e altul, oamenii sunt ei insisi si aerul sustine norisori de energii colorate. de la seri de peste cu dezlegare la... vorbe de duh, pana la seri de porc la cuptor cu vin de fiert venele pentru ca nu e caldura.... de la tigara fumata de mama dupa ani de nefumat, pana la calorifere reci din perete si altele electrice care pocnesc uleiul din ele... de la "love is in the air" pana la vase spalate cu apa rece, de la o pana de curent, la bradul impodobit in doua culori de doua fete cucuiete.... de la... "vocea romaniei" pana la "the skin I live in"... de la postul ei pana la cura mea de slabire, de la cafeaua cu puiu pana la pufuletii cu surprize, de la ras pana la plans si inapoi, de la rugaciuni pana la dorinte fierbinti... toate... sunt aici in cartier, mai exact la ap. 52.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
si toate... imi ofera mie un craciun frumos. momente cu care ramanem toti.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
nu am timp sa ma impart in cati sunteti. nu am timp sa ma ofer si sa va primesc. dar chiar si asa... formati un tot minunat pe care nu mi-l doresc altfel, nu mi-l imaginez nicicum altcumva. sunteti tot ce sunt eu si va iubesc cu dragoste de cartier! gara de nord rulz!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
urmeaza lista pe 2012. o cina cu circuit inchis doar pentru membrii ordinului de la Gara. zambete sub brad. si o calatorie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5779200338530630248?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/RLhz7cf3_m0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5779200338530630248/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5779200338530630248&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5779200338530630248?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5779200338530630248?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/RLhz7cf3_m0/de-cartier.html" title="de cartier" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/de-cartier.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQDRXs9eCp7ImA9WhRQGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-7060332573234956415</id><published>2011-12-15T14:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T14:32:54.560+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-15T14:32:54.560+02:00</app:edited><title>opriti planeta, vreau sa cobor!</title><content type="html">zile pline... parca sunt intr-un carusel din care nu ma lasa sa ma dau jos. si uit sa fiu eu, uit sa trag aer in piept si ma inec, uit sa scriu, sa ascult, sa vorbesc, sa-mi acord momente. uit.... de mine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ma epuizez pe dinauntru si uneori dau pe afara... imi doresc lucruri cu atata foc incat uit de virtutile alea intelepte: rabdare, calm, sa iau lucrurile ca atare... imi vine sa le imping pe toate, sa le dau branci pana ajung in Utopia mea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Iubesc intr-un mod absolut si mi-e teama sa recunosc, sa arat, sa... fiu asa. continui sa fac valuri, sa ma arunc in ele, sa ma las dusa... ma pierd in altii si pe mine odata cu asta. e minunata pierderea.... uneori as vrea sa fie cineva la capatul tunelului care sa ma opreasca din betie, sa ma ia in brate si atat. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
sunt un pic obosita.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-7060332573234956415?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/fB-OIJac47o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/7060332573234956415/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=7060332573234956415&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7060332573234956415?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/7060332573234956415?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/fB-OIJac47o/opriti-planeta-vreau-sa-cobor.html" title="opriti planeta, vreau sa cobor!" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/opriti-planeta-vreau-sa-cobor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QBRnkzcSp7ImA9WhRQEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-5320030752181918352</id><published>2011-12-08T00:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T00:02:37.789+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-08T00:02:37.789+02:00</app:edited><title>ma doare</title><content type="html">ma doare in gat. ma doare in... ca ma doare in gat si fumez mult. sunt ametita de o stare de semi-gripa si ma simt parca drogata. imi place sa zac, sa mi se faca ceai, masaj, sa ma intrebe ce mai vreau si sa-mi aduca paracetamol la pat. e bine sa fii bolnav cand ai noroc de compania potrivita.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ma laud cu starea mea si mamei, de dragul de a o auzi cu vesnica poezie: "asa faci tu mereu inainte de sarbatori, ca sa nu fie in regula cu toate" :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
am primit carafe de vin fiert si manusi fara degete, sa pot lua de mana femeia, s-o simt piele pe piele si sa ma imbat de mirosul ei. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
tu stii ca te-as fi vrut si azi aici, nu?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-5320030752181918352?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/dJrgUJj8Ik8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/5320030752181918352/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=5320030752181918352&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5320030752181918352?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/5320030752181918352?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/dJrgUJj8Ik8/ma-doare.html" title="ma doare" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/ma-doare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8MSH49eSp7ImA9WhRQEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4374095267437894729.post-6495306926497542248</id><published>2011-12-05T16:20:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T16:21:29.061+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-05T16:21:29.061+02:00</app:edited><title>cica vine mosu</title><content type="html">mosul asta nicolae e in grad mai mic decat mosul craciun, nu? ma incearca o lene porceasca, drept pentru care voi scrie o singura scrisoare catre cel din urma, cu riscul de a-l desconsidera pe nic.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
si totusi. mos nicolae vine pe fondul crizelor tuturor cu o cina sanatoasa gatita de mine, cu suflet si drag de oameni dragi. cu o prietena luminata dupa luni de intuneric, cu un personaj fericit, spalat de suferinte care imi sopteste dulce ca "are nevoie de mine", cu o roscata zen care imi impatureste clipele in fiecare zi doar fiind aici, in preajma mea. cu o blonda simpatica care incepe sa vorbeasca mai putin vulgar si care intregeste lantul energetic din cartierul-minune. cu o mama minunata care nu conteneste sa vegheze la fericirea mea. un mos nicolae care vine cu pace si bucurie, mai putin dulce - pentru ca suntem la curi de slabire si incercam sa mentinem glicemia pamantului la cote sanatoase.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
vine mos nicolae! tot vine de vreo doua saptamani. maine ii trimitem bezele pe geam, intr-un inceput de decembrie prea senin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4374095267437894729-6495306926497542248?l=piticescu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~4/LZ_21sWFWFY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://piticescu.blogspot.com/feeds/6495306926497542248/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4374095267437894729&amp;postID=6495306926497542248&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/6495306926497542248?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4374095267437894729/posts/default/6495306926497542248?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/ivicQ/~3/LZ_21sWFWFY/cica-vine-mosu.html" title="cica vine mosu" /><author><name>piticescu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14113826075092863055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="23" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iiTf_quM5rU/Tzw26OBiGVI/AAAAAAAABbs/p3RtpEKrjSQ/s220/_MG_1926.JPG" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://piticescu.blogspot.com/2011/12/cica-vine-mosu.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

