Cocotel’s Weblog

There’s something strange in the way he’s sitting there
strumming his guitar, hasn’t talked for hours.
he’s staring at the wall and i can tell
that boy can see the stars on ugly plaster
and he can look right trough these dirty city walls.

don’t stare if you can help it, and don’t say anything
or he might put those black sunglasses on
an then you’ll be the one who robbed us of his eyes.

they say that prophets only live in history and
heroes are just there for legends
but he’s right there now, isn’t he?
and he can tell you love him, so be quiet now.

The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” Brits have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from “Tiresome” to a “Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide”. The only two higher levels in France are “Collaborate” and “Surrender.” The rise was
precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France’s white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country’s military capability.

It’s not only the French who are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from “Shout loudly and excitedly” to “Elaborate Military Posturing.” Two more levels remain: “Ineffective Combat Operations” and “Change Sides.”

The Germans also increased their alert state from “Disdainful Arrogance” to “Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs.” They also have two higher levels: “Invade a Neighbour” and “Lose”.

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Americans meanwhile are carrying out pre-emptive strikes, on all of their allies, just in case.

Noaptea mea miroase a furtună

Şi bate vântul trecerii prin vară,

Îmi încâlceşte părul

Şi îmi desface degetele ca picioarele unei

Curve îndrăgostite.

Comparaţii kitschioase pe când

Nu mai am nimic poetic in litere

Şi nimic spiritual printre cărnuri.

S-a stins vara

Şi a început monsoonul sufocant de după

Depresiile anotimpului trecut.

Mi-am legat mâinile la spate cu fularul prea gros,

Dar acum nu mai am cu ce

Sa mă leg la ochi,

Deci mă aplec,

Cad în genunchi,

Apoi mă las pe mâini şi-mi

Murdăresc fruntea cu praf, nu ating cu capul pavajul

Parcului, ci îl izbesc,

Un atac împotriva pietrei de mormânt care sufocă iarba.

20 de grade si strazile, parca mai putin prafuite si totusi nu, s-au umplut de fuste, vedenii, urlete colorate ale preoteselor lui apollo. Ametesc de la culorile care ne-au fost interzise toata iarna, lumea in nuante de kaki si maro mi-a ascutit simturile si acum fac overdose de la florile de pe rochii.  Flashback pe primavara trecuta: dap, era tot asa, tot inflorat si sclipicios. si tot cu fuste. Dap, mai exista femei printre monstrii urbani. Se ascund numai peste iarna.

Eu am ramas, robotel inert, incastrata in negru si in androginitatea pantalonilor, asteptand canicula ca pe o forta cosmica, singura capabila de a ma dezbraca de scutul anti-praf si anti-soare. Si astept vara. Parca m-as duce, as fugi undeva, intr-un loc cliseizat de fanteziile tocite ale adolescentei mele timpurii. La Medeleni, sau poate la mosia vreunui boier, sau prin Iasii anilor ‘20.  Cel mai sanatos pentru psihicul meu dezorientat ar fi sa ma duc la bunici, unic loc al claritatii in constiinta mea de fost copil. Dar acum bunicii sunt o batranica si un  mosulet, si dealurile de pe langa sat, si valea, par o alta lume pentru ca nu au drumuri europene care sa te duca acolo.

Raman ,deci, in Clujul mileniului 3, in care am incetat sa mai caut orasul cult si rochiile sale albe, printre fustele inflorate din primavara asta.