nothing quite like the taste of your own homemade forest fruit jam on a slice of ryvita early in the morning when you should be out there dealing with lloydstsb not listening to porcupine tree and having brekky. goodbye cruel world.

writing about food as of 16/04/09

A while ago lovely mina asked me to write about my food. I’m in no way a fan of haute couture cuisine or whatever you want to call you know, the pretentious and extravagant dishes. I’d much rather keep it simple and, as of last year, less meaty. You know, cauliflower here, aubergine at all times, broccoli for desert and soy-everything (including ice-cream). So far it’s worked, dropped one stone in one month without dying of starvation, i intend to go back to how much i weighted prior to coming to the land of fish and chips tasty murder.

But i do indulge myself, and i do binge bigtime, especially when i have friends to pamper me. I’ve been home alone for almost a week and one of my Chinese friends agreed to live la vida my style, but as it usually does, i had to comply to her rules. As if all the pork and prawns and sweets we had at home while watching Match Point, Synecdoche New York and Kiss me Deadly weren’t enough, we had to go to this Chinese all you can eat type of restaurant (one has to get used to Swedish buffets).

No sooner i had i sat at the table than i realised i was in some sort of Chinese food mecca. And god did we (read: I) eat. Duck and chicken and pork and prawns and pak choi and whatnot all at the same time, for a minute there i thought i’d explode. That did not happen, nor did i lose my appetite the following days.

However, my friend is now gone and i’m back praying my Montignac god would help me get rid of something that’s not fat, but muscle gained while going to the gym every single effin day (and there i was, thinking i’d lose actual weight). So far so good, back to veggies and fibre for dinner, and as my mum left me with some crushed walnuts that i refused to eat with the traditional mucenici for some reason, i decided to do something out of them.

That i did, and the result would make my grandpa proud. I used to eat this a lot as a kid, and the smell filled my room (yes, i do eat while checking my email thankyouverymuch) and my head with nice memories (not to mention the food filled my stomach rather nicely).

This is simple as one two three, but you can go crazy with it if your heart desires.

I used wholemeal pasta, crushed walnuts, cinnamon, fruit sugar and a ton of vanilla essence.

What you do now is boil the pasta, mix it with the walnuts and cinnamon, add the sugar and vanilla and eat. Sure, there are more ways to do it, but truth be told i was hungry.

This was sweet and healthy, tasty both hot and cold and oh so easy to make. I wouldn’t have left some for tomorrow, but that’s a wholelotta fibre to eat in one go.

ps. My Swedish lessons are going oh so well, tho i have to say people kind of stare when i walk and try to say those weird sounds. Happens to the best of us, so to speak.

This life of mine is killing me. With my heart already split in two, i’m looking for a third piece to add to this confusion puzzle. My mind wonders while my brain is still processing some recently learned Swedish words. 1 more year to go and then i might be gone. Not back home, for i have a twisted notion of the word, but to Stockholm. I’m seriously considering doing my MA there and i’m starting to take these little steps in that direction.

There are things i want to do, places i want to see, and i cannot decide if i want to leave the UK. I am working for a respectable (albeit too big) corporation, they pamper me with discounts for London’s main attractions (not that i’d want to do anything else than stroll along the smallish streets, alas), a good pay rate and what is most important a ton of respect (which is a nice change from my other workplace). I do this and that for a film director, I’ve seen my name credited on the big screen, met Nicholas Roeg and am making my own (crappy, mind) films, so mrs Life is giving me quite the royal treatment this year (if i don’t count the emotional foul play i’m in). and yet and yet.

I miss the excitement of moving, starting over from scratch and so on. On the other hand, i enjoy working hard towards accomplishing this new life i’ve started more than one year ago. The ‘miss’ factor is still there. What’s up with me and my enthusiasm wearing off so quickly? There are the things i know, and the things i have a notion of, but can barely understand. And as of late, it seems i’ve been concentrating on the latter, rather than proofing the others. And by concentrating i don’t mean trying to understand, but desperately hanging on to acceptance.

It seems that the only time i feel comfortable is when i am filming. I don’t mind doing 14 hrs without any break (as long as there is tea that is), i don’t mind the people around me not having a clue about what i am trying to say. It’s so different when you can actually visualise your thoughts and ideas. I don’t know how that goes, but sometimes i think the whole process resembles giving birth. And then there are the jokes, the quarrels, the oh-i-don’t-eat-pizza-let-me have-a-bite, the chinese food cooked by my chinese friends, girly sleep overs in the same house, days spent reading and writing, hours of brainstorming, you know, the works. The good stuff. The things that make one love the life. This is just my bit, to each his own. This is what makes me happy, and i know sometimes i exaggerate asking of everyone else to love it to the same extent i do. To sacrifice their nights, their health, all their braincells (if any) for this.

I’m sure at some point i’ll find people on the same wavelenght, but i don’t know if my duty is to wait or to go out there and look for them and new opportunity. All these thoughts are playing hide and seek inside my mind, it is confusing but at the same time quite nice. It’s more like writing a story without having a plan, you add things as you go along, but you also forget some.

This is just my one, and at this point, i don’t know where to take it. I need new characters new places and less gloomy feelings. As one step at a time does not really work in the world i live in, i’ll somersault through whatever lies ahead (then come back, think again, regret, but move on with another flip). Hejdå.

ps: nevermind my grammar, waking up at 4am, going back to bed at 10 and having a dream about a potential lover high on morphine make this bunny a less coherent one.

i’m still here if you need to know. drowned in a douglas coupland obsession, finding it hard to leave his books for more than a couple of hours. i started a new murakami and i hope i’ll get to finish it before i start another coupland. my bookshelf is stacked with unread books, i’m waiting for the day i’ll have all the time in the world to finish them, but hey, this day may never come.

it’s been a full week, and a full month for that matter and already a full year. i got to sleep 8 hrs in the last 3 days, but i’m feeling relieved i managed to do everything and i did it all by myself (which is pissing me off, but sod group work anyway).

i’m starting a new job on monday and i’m not sure if i’m looking forward to it anymore. i found what they say is true, sometimes you wish for something with all your might and when you get it you just can’t be happy, for it cost too much soul.

but nice things are still to come. and i’m still here giving blood keeping faith

take these hands

life is funny these days. so funny i’m not even laughing anymore.

250708

I might be Paris sick. I miss the sun and I miss Mona Lisa and I miss Tom Waits and I miss Notre Dame. I miss what could have been and I miss all that really happened. for a minute there I lost myself.

I was waiting for the train today and familiar places came to mind, unreeling from a 35mm Bucharest existent only in my lucid dreams. I am starting to become the living proof of a celluloid homesickness, and this train won’t take me home.

this train won’t take me home.

this train won’t take me.

my new pen’s awesome, but it’s nothing like my old one

So last night i dreamt that i was writing a poem and at 7 in the am when rain managed to wake me up i remember i had this.

funny thing is, i don’t love my pen as much as i loved the former one.

la ultima vez que estuvimos todos juntos

this must be some sort of summer.

Suuuuuupersoooooniiiiiic.

Just returned from what might have been this summer’s best weekend. Friday morning I found myself in Birmingham, checking in at a cosy hostel and doing my best to stay awake after a night of binge but no sleep. 3pm I was in the Custard Factory, still trying to keep my eyes open, even after a short yet intense nap. Alas! Had to set up a few things and make sure everything runs smoothly in the backstage and mind you, while it can be fun meeting the artists and whatnot, sometimes it does get awkward and pretty tiresome. I’ll blame it on my inability to take decisions.

Friday night was a rather chill one, although almost all the bands on both stages were rather, hm, say brutal. It might as well be me getting old and pretentious, but I found Cutting Pink with Knives and RoloTomassi hard to bear, and while they did blow me away at times, I know it is a music I’ll steer clear of in the future (or maybe i’m not getting all that old, seeing as I still love Queen Andreena).

Dalek was, unsurprisingly, amazing. The well deserved breath of fresh air, for punk rock or whatever the uber cool kids call it these days can easily asphyxiate one. Unfortunately, I had to skip Dj/Rupture feat. Jah Dan Blakkamoore, even though they did sound a bit like Tricky when they were doing soundchecks. My dire need of sleep took over my desperate passion for music, which is indeed regretful.

Saturday morning i woke up and decided to give Birmingham a second chance (it was the second time to be in the city and the second time to hate it), which was the right thing to do. I went to a couple of museums and bought a few things (sales>life), had lunch in one of the many rain breaks and headed back.

My night started with Alexander Tucker; i never knew he had something in common with Guapo and seeing the same keyboardist on stage was a big and pleasant surprise (then again, i’m a sucker for that band). Unfortunately, it was only a 45 min set, and I was left craving for more – lucky those who are going to see him opening for Bohren and der Club of Gore (while I’m going to see Guapo for the third time). Next up i managed to catch a bit of The Owl Service, some nice and relaxing folk that made me want to listen some Espers (which I will surely do, if not tonight then tomorrow or who knows when).

Talking about Guapo, they were, if need be written, pretty nifty. Obviously, being a festival they only played for 45 minutes but my god were they intense.

I find it irrelevant writing about how wonderful Efterklang can be live. Absolutely no feeling can compare to hearing and seeing them performing Caravan – butterflies would have roamed free in my stomach, but I had too much to eat that night. I got a poster that the band signed for me and which now beautifully decorates my wall. Can one wish for more?

The answer is probably yes.

yes, yes, yes. Battles. Even if I wanted to write about how that was, I’d probably stumble. All I have to say is that they’re twice as much fun live, and they kept reminding me of The Mars Volta, for some strange reason. Maybe because both are among the bands you’d recognize from a million other, or maybe they transpired a really weird yet wicked energy. Heard a couple of new and extremely experimental songs and danced (or something) to the ones I already knew, while I was thinking damn, this band does not leave you one single minute to catch your breath. Who needs that anyway.

Harvey Milk rocked even if I was so tired and so not in the mood for sludge metal. Had to headbang and sing along. Really great band, wish i could see them again in the future.

On Sunday I saw Max Tundra, a bit of ASVA, Earth and Red Sparrowes live and, even though Earth is one of my favourite bands ever, I have to say the latter almost made me cry. I’ve seen quite a few bands live (especially as of late), but nothing can ever compare to Red Sparrowes. Think EiTS are profound? Think again and go see RS while you can.

Earth was all about the atmosphere, as people were lying on the floor, with their eyes closed etc etc etc. It is almost impossible to open your eyes and still hear them. Maybe it’s that kind of music that needs to be felt, not seen. It definitely is for me.

Moreover, I saw Nosferatu with live soundtrack which was an experience I won’t forget too soon. Films = life.

Had to come back the same night and it took me 5 hours to do so. Layovers in London are something I do not wish for anyone, especially if it’s night and you’re in f-ing Victoria station and there’s nobody around to guide you. When i got back however the driver was extremely nice as she stayed with me by the cemetery waiting for my friend to come and pick me up. Gotta love women.

All in all, it was an amazing weekend. Hanging out with all sorts of people from all sorts of places is really interesting and mind opening, but I did miss what I now call home. Or maybe just being alone in my room, with a glass of sweet white wine and a good book and some quiet, almost inexistent music.

My next stop is going to be in Paris next week, where I’ll meet my Tom Waits. Whenever I think about it I find myself unable to sleep so expect some updates.

ps.

I apologize for everything that does not sound quite right in this post. I’m too lazy to read again and i have a family to entertain.

Oh, and for those who think I’m too important to write in Romanian now — my other blog is down.

when nothing seems to work

…coffee is the answer.

plus a script and a storyboard in a pub on a rainy afternoon.

one year’s passed me by. or the other way around, i’m yet to decide.

i’m not around much lately. desperately trying to cancel life for 5 to 10 minutes but i guess it just won’t work.

slowly giving up all things digital and technology.

wishing for a record player.

welcome my friend.