related species

Another family

When an individual discovers that his most intimate ideas had already been expressed by the art (either writing, painting or music) of a long gone artist, a revelation occurs which is hard to put into words… a noble soul will experience love for himself and for his fellow ancestor, for mankind’s highest and loftiest legacy and he will be thankful for having had the privilege of sharing a glance into such exclusive ideas. It proves to him that the thinking human will never be alone in his ambition for a godlike vision. Distant echoes will always accompany him, encouraging the search for the truth to go further and further. In his turn, the thinking individual hopes that his own search will echo through generations to come. It is as if one would hope to reach the rightful pursuer of humanity’s greatest treasure hunt, an inheritance which is bestowed only upon a selected few and occupies a dimension which is far more select than the basic instincts and goes beyond any blood relations. This is real love, out of which all love is born.

A marketer or philistine will not rejoice in the discovery that others have had the same idea as he has just had. He will hate the creator for being so precocious and himself for being too late in grabbing all the glory and profit. If the majority is ruled by this base desire to posses, to own exclusively and to find shortcuts over graves towards their petty, gregarious ambitions, then their monstrous propaganda for their future generations will render such virtues as patience, loyalty or reverence as foolish defects. In the end, even love will live inside a pill… which they will be happy to sell.

2 Fathers

If I were to argue that reproduction is in a way, the human’s ambition for immortality and the fathers want to see in their children a better version of themselves, than the creator, as a human, probably has the same ambition on behalf of his father, namely God. His legacy is of a divine nature and it is the only one which keeps God hoping that we will soon join Him… I guess His own immortality feels like a burden when He experiences it all alone. 

Răzbunarea muierii

Muierea să pusese să tchicăzască dosoia, numa că iejile de care bărbatu-so i-o zâs să nu să atingă, ierau împrăştiate pă tătă masa şi nu putea să strecoare cârpa tare bine printre iele. Câte o iaga iera aproape goală, maxim doi deţii, alta iera plină otchi şi tare ar fi năzuit să ieie şi ie o duşcă, numa că aşe s-o înţăles cu bărbatu-so că fiecare-şi cumpără băutura din penzia lui, ş-apoi iel, cum o fost perceptor pă vremuri, căpăta mai mult. Ie şi-o gătat băutura Marţa trecută şi nici Floriţa nu o mai tchima pă la ie de zgârcită ce iera. Iera Miercuri si poştaşu ar trăbui să vină răspoimâine, da şi lu bărbatu-so i-o ajuns tărzâu penzia. O vinit ieri, şi ar fi trebuită să vină Luni. Să gândea că dacă n-a vini răspoimâine, atunci Sâmbăta o’ Duminica bistoş nu ajunje şi să nădăjduia deja unde să steie în biserică, ca să să puie lângă o muiere ce ua tchiema pă la ie după slujbă.

Cu aiestea gânduri, tăt mojmondea în stânga-dreapta şi o prins-o noptea acole.

Gligor, bărbatu-so, să apropia de casă dinspre bufet şi văzând că arde lumina, s-o strecurat pă lângă gard ca să vadă ce face muierea. Cand o vazut-o umblând dintr-un colţ în altul, vorovind sângură, iară în laboş văzu raţa pă care o tăiat-o, că iera încă necoposlită, primul lui gând o fost “mânce-te ameţala, nu te-oi arunca io feieş in fântână!?” Numa’ că iera aşe de bat încât şi-o imaginat că dacă ar fi încercat aşe ceva, bistoş ar fi căzut iel primu’.

Gligor o reuşit să urce tăte treptele, numa’ că s-o împiedicat de prag şi-o dat cu capu de jeamu uşii pă care l-o spart şi de-abia o scăpat să nu-şi taie grumazu’.

Muierea s-o spăriet mai mult de bubuitura decât de sânjele lui Gligor care o suduia în timp ce ie îl târa spre pat cu spatele, ţinându-l de subsioare. Călcâiele cizmelor de gumă lăsau o dâră de tină pă care muierea ştia ca a trăbui să le tchicăzască pâna dimineaţă, împreună cu dosoia, raţa si cizmele. Obdielele lui Glibor ierau imbibate în nămol, din cauză că, aşe cum chiar iel o recunoscut mai târzâu, s-o abătut de la cale şi-o intrat într-o mlaştină. Cu obdielele ce împuţau tătă casa în mâini, muierea încercă să-şi şteargă sudorea die pă frunte, da’ mânecile nu-i ierau bine sufelcate, aşe ca o mărs să-şi reazăme fruntea de un ştergar pă părete. Acolo, cu capu’ liptit de părete să gândea dacă să arunce obdielele o’ ba. Din pat, Gligor să răstea la ia, da’ nu putea zâce nimic limpede in afara de “mnezo”.

“Ţâne-ţ gura, muşte-te muştele!” îi zâse muierea care deja aruncase obdielele pă foc şi dădea pe gât in jos rachiul din iaga cea mai plină. Mai ierau patru ieji si pâna în tri ceasuri le va fi gătat pă fiecare in parte.  

Următoarea zi, Gligor să trezi cu uătchii rosi si pumnii încleştaţi…       

Baby

It was August, at noon and a life form had just awakened. It ate its way out of a slimy cocoon, which was stuck to a rock and had been keeping the life form captive for more than 15 months

When the life form started gnawing through this placenta, hunger was understood for the first time and calming it, felt like the first and foremost purpose. Because it was eating greedily with its head down, the birth made the life form fall to the ground through a hole which it had carved at a height of more than 4 times the length of its body. It had time to chew twice more through the entire fall to the ground.

Once there, it struggled, twisted and turned, gnashing its emerging teeth, still not being able to open any of its eyes. The life form took a bite at the dust, but as it swallowed it, understood that the dust will never be a remedy for its hunger and at that point, taught itself not to bite through the dust ever again. Crawling back to the rock, the life form tried to climb it and realized to its satisfaction that it was now crawling upwards, closer and closer to the sweet smell of its old cocoon. The cocoon however „came to life” and was also trying to crawl away, alarmed by impulses from her nervous system. She had been numb until the desperately hungry newborn finished carving its birth hole. Now, however, the pain was growing terribly strong because of a very sensitive network of nerves which was spreading through all of her mass and alarmed it that her very existence was at stake. But she could not move fast enough …  

With every bite, the newborn life form developed more and more into a male and by the time he had eaten the last piece of the agonizing cocoon, he could already open one of his eyes. Just in time to see where he came from! Now, this secret was to be lost inside of him.

The world did not surprise him, he did not marvel at the life and the colors that he had started to observe around; from the very moment he had gained his eyesight, he grasped in his own particular way, the whole of the nature itself. It was a something he felt very content to be part of, accepted thoroughly and was planning to take advantage of, in some way he did not yet know. He just had a very strong feeling about its usefulness.

As he began his journey, the life form could barely walk, but soon enough, his feeble feet struggled to carry him places where his strong jaws would chew to strengthen the feet. When the feet became strong enough, he could choke more than 5 other life forms at the same time, while his ever so powerful jaws were chewing through the previous captures. Hunger had stopped, but the memory of it was enough to make the life form eat beyond the point of saturation and he also started making provisions in a cave he had found. At first, he was dragging the captures over a rocky surface and some of them were getting stuck; their bellies were getting cut in the sharp and pointy rocks and their bowels were getting wrapped around the next rocks on the way. Because they were emptied of their contents, carrying the captures, was seldom a good investment of energy. He was about to stop doing it, but he last meal had given him enough strength to open more eyes and the last few were at the back of his head, so he soon learned to avoid dragging the captures over the rocks and found coordination.

Everyday he would find a new life form, a new taste and a new power of his own. It wasn’t all about hunger anymore… Once, when a few of the trees had burned because of the heat, he even tasted the slightly fried meat of the fire victims, but he was not satisfied and resorted again to capturing them and eating them raw. After a while, he had stopped choking them altogether because he had found that the taste was altered when he did so. He would best enjoy eating them all alive, feet first and although the struggle would sometimes leave marks, the taste of the capture’s adrenaline rushing through its blood, aroused him and also brought with it a strange reminiscence of ancestral instincts.  

Before he had left his cave and the mountain, he had eaten more than eight hundred fifty life forms, but it had been a very long time since he had found any new type of captures or tastes, so his curiosity and new sensations were experiencing a new type of hunger that he was bound to obey.  

hungry?

I didn’t make omelet this morning because I had dreamt that the whole Universe is an egg falling from the butt of a proud hen in a bigger universe and the whole time we recorded until now is halfway of the egg’s fall. Later on, giants made of countless galaxies, were playing squash against the east wall of the universe in order to help it hatch faster. Earth found itself in a sparkle of the chicken’s eye as the hatchet cut off its head. Humanity was sliding down a rollercoaster of blood splashing out of the chicken’s headless body and on their way down, they were still fighting each other. As the blood finally settled in a puddle, we have found the general love and harmony we had been longing for since the time Empedocles defined them. In my dream, blood indeed, had to be spilled in order to find peace. 

Frankenfrog

Sometimes, when the sun hits the smooth surface of the lake, casting its rays among the waterlillies,

Ipocriti vechi si noi

Ipocrizia 

O fi revarsand dintr-o inima adapata peste masura la izvorul umanitatii ce nu se poate autocontine? Sau poate din mandria de-a crea o expresie exacta si digerabila pentru sentimentul general? Poate e o rasa care se perpetueaza precum mutatiile unor specii si se permanentizeaza cand acele mutatii sunt benefice pentru supravietuirea speciei...

Ipocrizia nu exista fara puterea intuitiva a ipocritului care se activeaza pe fondul unei convulsii populare, a unei indignari inoculate si programate, pe care acesta are puterea sa o sesizeze si sa-i devina partizan in timp record; Ipocritul model se aliaza si aliniaza in mod natural, devenind vocea impunatoare, ce stabileste atitudinea potrivita in legatura cu nedreptatea cutare sau cutare. De cele mai multe ori reuseste asta, dand dimensiuni fantastice insemnatatii subiectului pentru intregul curs al umanitatii. 

Oricare ar fi cauza pt care "lupta",  cuvintele mari si actiunile potrivite pot sa insemne pentru ipocrit scandurile lipsa ale unui pod ce leaga anonimatul de leadership. Si acesta intuieste asta atat de bine, incat trece poate sa sara din pielea lui direct in pielea altora, fara empatia intermediara. Sau sa devina un expert in finalitatea unui fenomen caruia nu-i cunoaste inceputul si natura ciclica... Si e cu atat mai convingator incat s-a convins si pe el insusi!

Problemele sunt acum globale, responsabilitatea individului care nu-si cunoaste nici vecinii de scara, se intinde peste mari si tari. Daca mananca inghetata, trebuie sa o faca cu un sentiment de vinovatie, gandindu-se la cei din Africa. Friptura are un gust de crima! Daca homosexualii prea declarati ii provoaca repulsie, e clar ca el are o problema psihica, la dus va canta o piesa cu 1 minut mai scurta, sting becul de ziua Pamantului (oricum ii plac lumanarile si lampile pe gaz) 

Dintre cele mai mari ipocrizii raspandite vreodata, il citez cu dezgust pe Gandhi "fii schimbarea pe care vrei s-o vezi in lume" sau "doar eu sunt de vina ca lucrurile merg asa cum merg". Autoasumarea unei asemenea importante iti da sentimentul de factor decisiv, alimenteaza ipocrizia la maximul, pompeaza atmosfere in piepturile activistilor imbatati de aere si legitimizeaza discursurile politicienilor. Daca umanitatea se va schimba vreodata, schimbare va fi un efect si nu o cauza! Pe fondul izolarii cotidiene a individului pe propria-i insulita in deriva, indemnul lui Gandhi are o vadita tenta de cinism... Ia nu mai da tu vina pe cei din vaporul de lux ca nu-ti arunca o scara sa urci la bogatiile si cunoasterea lor, gandeste-te cum sa-ti folosesti pomul de pe insulita ta, ca sa construiesti o casa, un vapor al tau si sa lasi ceva urmasilor tai! 

Ipocritii sunt zidari. Inalta mereu, neobositi, ziduri. Creaza o zona tampon intre om si supraom. Si primul nu va avea cum sa invete de la ultimul pentru ca amandoi vor vorbi mereu cu peretii.

Inspre rasarit

Furtuna tocmai trecuse… Acum pe strada era liniste, copacii isi intinsesera bratele parca pentru a se imbratisa peste aleea umeda, strabatuta de o dara lunga de lumina, ce era aruncata si intinsa la nesfarsit de felinarele aliniate soldateste de-o parte si de alta a ei. Adieri timide ale vantului mai scuturau frunzele incovoaite de picurii ploii, iar gazele iesisera din adaposturi si roiau din ce in ce mai jucaus in jurul piloanelor cu coifuri de foc. Una cate una, luminile caselor din imprejurimi se aprindeau, iar oamenii ieseau timid la geam, cautandu-si semenii din priviri; nimeni nu mai vroia sa doarma, era parca impotriva firii, acum ca noaptea urlase atat de amenintator. Si chiar daca tacuse de ceva timp, toti erau convinsi ca putea sa se revolte din nou, pentru orice alta pricina, necunoscuta vreunui suflet pamantesc. Nelinistea a durat cam un ceas, timp in care unii se gandeau ingrijorati la recoltele lor, altii la rudele lor de pe mare sau la cei care se aflau aproape de albia raurilor ce la fiecare ploaie mai abundenta isi ieseau din matca ca sa devoreze si sa inghita totul. Dar cum ploaia si vantul pareau ca incetasera, luminile incepura sa se stinga, ca si cand natura soptise sufletelor sa faca liniste… Cand in spatele ultimei ferestre se cufunda intunericul, greierii de august isi reluara cantecul lor monoton, iar luna reusea sa aprinda norii noptii doar cu un varf.

Doi ochi flamanzi priveau infinitatea de ochi ai cerului, deslusind din ce in ce mai usor fapturi negandite, ce pareau a fi gata sa se napusteasca in orice moment de pe cer si sa nimiceasca totul; licarul subit al stelelor cazatoare ii smulgea de fiecare data o exclamatie admirativa desi vasuse atat de multe paturi de astre, in atatea nopti pe care le-a asteptat atat de rabdator sa albeasca! Se simtea pironit acolo, fara nicio sansa de a se ridica si prin mintea lui fulgerase gandul ca pamantul de sub el era un infam magnet ce putea fi invins; inca nu stia cum. Locul pe care statuse intins pe intreaga durata a ploii, era cu siguranta mai uscat decat oricare altul cat ai fi vazut cu ochii, capul pletos ii era ud, iarba pe care o turtise ii increstase semne ciudate pe spate, picioarele ii erau furnicate de amorteala unei imobilitati prelungite, il cuprindea un frig ce-si sapa drumul din ce in ce mai adanc in oase. Deodata, asa intins pe spate, isi misca bratele si picioarele ca si cum ar fi vrut sa descrie un om Vitruvian animat si incepu sa rada multumit. Dupa lungi ezitari, se ridica pe coate, apoi in picioare si privi in jur. Isi vazuse propriul contur in iarba si incerca sa-si faca umbra sa se intinda perfect peste forma pe care si-o desenase acolo; nu reusi... Cand arunca ultima privire inspre cer, i se paru ca vede o poarta uriasa, iar de-o parte si de alta a ei, nimic altceva decat zabrele. Peste tot imprejur, se desfasurau mici ochiuri de apa, unele poate reflectand bucati de constelatii, altele adapostind imaginea feerica a stelelor care se inveleau si apoi se dezveleau de nori; isi spusese ca, de atunci inainte, va renunta sa se priveasca in oglinda…